GRAVITAS

Title: Gravitas, 3/26
Author: Jaye (Copyright July 2002)
Codes: VOY/TNG/DS9 Many Pairings NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. Gladiator belongs to Dreamworks SKG and Universal. No infringement 
is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, violence and sex. If 
you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Treachery raises the stakes and changes lives when the leader of the 
Terran Empire seeks to restore the Federation.

Note: Very AU, as this is basically the plot of the film "Gladiator" set in a 
Star Trek universe. Some scenes and dialogue closely mirror the film. No Maquis, 
no Delta Quadrant, etc. This is my response to Polly's Cha!Club challenge about 
movies.

***************

CHAPTER THREE

Chakotay was bone tired, but no one looking at him was allowed to see it. He 
appeared, as always, alert and strong and sure as he wandered among the wounded 
in the Enterprise's temporary Sickbay, set up in a shuttlebay.

It was his last stop in a long circuit, a tradition that had begun with his very 
first command. After each battle he would visit every ship that fought for him, 
to walk a few decks and personally thank the people who risked their lives for 
him and for the Empire.

All Sickbays and morgues were a permanent part of the itinerary. Chakotay took 
care to spend time with both the living and the dead, honoring their sacrifices. 
Because he rotated his own posting, he had traveled on every ship in the fleet. 
As a result of spending time with so many of his people, he often greeted those 
he met by name, which endeared him even further to them. In his mind, to know 
who fought and died for him was simply his duty. It was a tribute all of his 
crews deserved, and this individual expression of gratitude was a responsibility 
and honor he would never shirk or pass off on a subordinate.

But it made for a very long day, especially on top of a tense battle marking the 
end of a grueling campaign. He was relieved that so few had fallen in this last 
conflict with the Dominion. If fate was kind no one else would die in his 
service. He hoped it would be so.

Chakotay paused by a crewwoman's bed. The brunette's eyes were blinking slowly, 
on the edge of sleep, but they brightened at the sight of the beloved admiral. A 
stunned, grateful smile spread across her wan features when Chakotay took her 
hand a moment to lean in and murmur, "Thank you for all that you did, Ensign 
Kaplan. You have served your people well this day."

The patient struggled to speak but Chakotay simply lifted a finger to his own 
lips and smiled gently. "Sleep well, Ms. Kaplan."

"They can all sleep peacefully from now on, Chakotay, thanks to you." Jean-Luc 
Picard's smooth voice echoed the warmth in his eyes and smile as he remembered 
an outspoken youth and regarded the man he'd become, the commander of the 
Imperial Fleet.

"Indeed, sire, there is no one left to fight." Chakotay replied, acknowledging 
his leader with a small bow. At a beckoning gesture he quickly moved to the 
Emperor's side and they began to cross the spacious shuttlebay.

Picard's staff of aides and guards fell in behind them. The Emperor noted that 
Chakotay had arrived alone, and still wore the sooty uniform he fought in. The 
older man broke the silence. "Surely you don't believe that, Chakotay. There is 
always someone to fight. More glory."

The seriousness of Chakotay's tone and expression revealed the depth of his 
belief. "There is no glory in death, sire, either your enemy's or your own."

"If there is no glory, then how am I to reward the Empire's greatest admiral?" 
Picard listened carefully for the reply.

"Let me go home." The fervent wish breathed through Chakotay's lips like a 
prayer.

Picard's face softened. "Ah, home," was all he replied. He laid a hand on the 
younger man's arm, partly in empathy and partly for support. His own steps were 
flagging after traveling to several ships himself, to survey the damage and 
boost morale.

They had reached an area where those with minor wounds were being tended by 
Fleet medics. As the Admiral and Emperor came into view, every man and woman 
stood in silence and saluted in a time-honored gesture of respect.

"They honor you, sire," Chakotay said.

"No, Admiral Chakotay, I believe they honor you." Jean-Luc caught Chakotay's 
glance of surprise.

Chakotay turned back to the troops and returned the salute. At the gesture the 
assemblage burst into cheers.

At that moment Julian strode into the shuttlebay followed by his own coterie. He 
stopped and stared, stunned at this ovation for an *outworlder*. It offended 
him; these people owed their allegiance and approbations to the Emperor alone. 
And, of course, his heir. But his face returned to its usual mask by the time he 
reached his father. "I've missed the battle," he said in dismay.

"You have missed the war," Jean-Luc said wryly as he greeted his only son.

"Father, congratulations." Julian awkwardly embraced the Emperor, noticing the 
frailty of his form. "I shall prepare a grand celebration in your honor."

"I have no need for more celebrating," Jean-Luc said quietly. "And you should 
honor Chakotay. He won the battle."

Julian gritted his teeth as he turned to clasp the stronger man's arms. "All the 
Empire salutes you, and I embrace you as a brother." He quickly dropped his 
hands and stepped back, but kept his aspect genial. "How long has it been, old 
friend? Ten years?"

"Highness," was all Chakotay said as he bowed.

Jean-Luc compared the two men a moment, the one who was his son and the one he 
wished could have been. The disheartening thought sapped his remaining energy, 
so with a last pat to Chakotay's forearm he signaled for his staff. "I'll leave 
you now." Without another look at Julian he exited the room.

Chakotay stared after the Emperor a moment, his heart aching. He knew the old 
man was not long for this world. Despite the best medical care and technology, 
his body continued to weaken for reasons unknown. Over the years Chakotay had 
drifted from Jean-Luc's protégé to confidant, even when Owen was still alive. He 
felt privileged to have been trusted as the Emperor's sounding board. Also 
profoundly grateful for the wisdom he had gleaned just listening to this 
soldier-philosopher's thoughts. When the time came, he would grieve for Jean-Luc 
as he had for his own long-departed father.

Julian fumed for a minute, angry that Jean-Luc had simply dismissed him. The 
Emperor should have called his son to accompany him, a public invitation to a 
private conference. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, then with an 
abrupt turn he too swept out of the shuttlebay.

************************************************************

Ten Forward was alive with laughter and loud conversation, men and women 
celebrating victory and simple survival. This was the gathering of the elite, 
the bridge crews who had led their ships into battle under Chakotay's command. 
Sprinkled among them were the Council members the Emperor had called to the war 
zone. Their lack of uniforms stood out among the black-vested throng.

Chakotay maneuvered through the bodies as surreptitiously as he could. He'd 
managed to clean up and grab a quick meal, but all he wanted to do was sleep. He 
was here only because he knew his people would be disappointed if he didn't make 
an appearance at the festivities. He smiled and clasped hands and arms, greeting 
his officers, listening to war stories that were already embellished in the 
first recounting. He noted that the Emperor had claimed a corner of the large 
room for himself. It was set off by some draperies so Jean-Luc could have 
privacy in his conversations, and transport inconspicuously to his suite on the 
Phoenix when he chose.

"Chakotay! Over here," called Gregor Ayala, waving his longtime friend and 
commander over to a tiny group of captains. He grinned as the admiral raised his 
glass in acknowledgement and approached. "I thought you'd never give that damn 
signal today, *sir*. You probably wanted all the excitement for yourself."

"There was plenty of action to go around, Greg," Will Riker chided as he also 
gave his CO a warm smile. "So, Admiral, what are your plans now? Off to Earth to 
be paraded before a cheering populace?"

"No, the second the Emperor releases me I'll be heading home to Dorvan." 
Chakotay's eyes glowed with the images as his hand unconsciously brushed his 
tattoo, the sign of marriage and manhood among his tribe. "To wife, to son, to 
crops ready for harvest. There's a lot to be done."

"Chakotay the farmer. I've never been able to picture it," Joshua Cavit said and 
sipped his wine, squinting at Chakotay as if trying to imagine him wearing 
overalls and a straw hat.

"Dirt washes off easier than blood, Josh," Chakotay said softly, "and I prefer a 
quiet life."

The men were shaking their heads in bemusement as Julian and two Council members 
approached. The captains immediately melted into the crowd.

"Here he is, the man of the hour," Julian said as he stopped next to Chakotay.

"Highness," Chakotay said and bowed, displaying no reaction.

"Councilor Elizabeth Shelby, Councilor Geordi LaForge," Julian introduced the 
newcomers with a flourish. Then he sidled even closer to Chakotay and warned, 
"Beware of Mr. LaForge. He'll whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and one day 
you'll wake up and all you can say is 'Federation', 'Federation', 'Federation'."

They all chuckled, but Geordi's earnestness was clear as he insisted, "Why not? 
The first community of planets was a Federation."

"And in the Federation, the Council members had all the power." Julian's full 
lips formed a mock pout. "Of course Mr. LaForge is above such petty 
considerations."

"Where do you stand, Admiral?" Shelby's narrow features tried to pin Chakotay. 
"Empire or Federation?"

"Soldiers have the advantage of seeing their enemies clearly displayed on their 
sensors," Chakotay replied cryptically, ignoring the game.

Geordi thoughtfully assessed this hero he had heard so much about. Ironically, 
though Chakotay had been a wildly successful Admiral of the Imperial Fleet for 
over a year, he had kept a pretty low profile outside his own troops. People on 
Earth and other planets had read about his exploits, but no personal information 
or pictures had been sent to be splashed on the news services or used in 
propaganda campaigns.

The reports of the man's charisma and intelligence were easily confirmed with a 
single glance into those magnetic dark eyes. The honor and integrity were not so 
easily checked, yet Chakotay's answer did suggest an unwillingness to play 
politics. Perhaps he was as he seemed, uncorrupted by power. The thought gave 
Geordi hope for the future. "Yet with the Fleet behind you, you could be 
extremely political," he noted.

Julian laughed again, but it wasn't a pleasant sound. "You see, Chakotay? I 
warned you, but now I'm going to rescue you." He took the admiral's arm and led 
him firmly away.

***************

Unnoticed by anyone, a pair of blue eyes peered around one of the Emperor's 
drapes. They stayed glued to Chakotay's form until he again disappeared into the 
crowd.

***************

Julian stopped in a quiet corner and turned to the older man. "Times are 
changing, Admiral. I'm going to need good men like you."

Chakotay's gut tightened, but he only said, "How can I be of service, Highness?"

"I will need strong and intelligent people on my side. People who know what it 
is to command. To give orders and know they will be obeyed without question or 
hesitation."

Julian made a gesture of dismissal. "The Council members squabble and fight 
among themselves, while it is the Imperial Guard who protects Earth and the 
Fleet who preserves the Empire. Whoever leads these groups must know how to 
wield power, and keep it." His eyes bore into Chakotay's. "When the time comes, 
can I count on you?"

"The moment your father releases me, Highness, I intend to return to Dorvan." 
Chakotay decided not to add "permanently", preferring to keep that information 
to himself.

"Yes, to take some leave," Julian said heartily. "Well of course, you must go 
home awhile. You've certainly earned it." His expression turned sly. "Just don't 
get too comfortable. I may call on you before long." He raised his wine in a 
silent toast.

Chakotay remained outwardly calm as he clinked glasses, but his spirit was 
filled with foreboding.

Julian waited until Chakotay had almost taken a sip to remark casually, "Tom's 
here, you know." He wasn't sure if there was a flicker in the brown eyes but 
noted the steadiness of the admiral's hand. "He still remembers you, of course, 
especially now that you've come so splendidly into your own."

Chakotay simply nodded and finished his drink. He indicated the empty glass. "I 
believe it's time for me to return to Voyager, Highness. May I bid you good 
night?" He barely waited for the slight nod before smoothly making his exit.

Julian turned to find his father, intending to be seen in the Emperor's company 
on this historic day. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the draperies had been 
pulled back, leaving the reserved area empty. "The Emperor retires early," he 
murmured, then went to get another drink. And search for more allies among this 
fortuitous gathering of Imperial officers.

***************

Tom Paris sat bemused as he piloted a shuttle out of the docking bay of the 
Phoenix. He'd been relieved when Jean-Luc asked for his company on the trip back 
to the Emperor's current vessel. He had been both dreading and anticipating 
meeting Chakotay after so many years, and hadn't really wanted the occasion to 
occur in public.

He'd felt that old undeniable pull just at the sight of the man. The years had 
been kind to Chakotay, gifting him with greater dignity and an aura of quiet 
confidence. He was even more attractive, but now his appeal reflected the 
complex beauty of seasoned maturity.

Tom had been torn between a bold approach and ignominious retreat when the 
Emperor had requested his presence. He'd been surprised when they beamed to the 
shuttlebay instead of the Imperial suite, but was pleased to be piloting again. 
Even if it was only a short exterior tour of the Fleet ships.

Jean-Luc relaxed in the copilot's seat, glad to be temporarily free of staring 
eyes. He was alone except for his son-in-law, having abandoned his entourage on 
the Enterprise. He looked at the slim but strong man whose effervescent spirit 
had brightened many a dreary day on Earth. He sighed. Here was another he would 
have been proud to call son. "What an Emperor you might have made."

Tom glanced at his elder, startled, but said nothing as Jean-Luc continued.

"I know you would have been fair, but would you also have been strong?" Jean-Luc 
hadn't expected a reply to his rhetorical question, but he got one.

"I would have been how I was raised," Tom said honestly, "and if I found myself 
lacking I'd have sought another to balance me."

Jean-Luc caught the flash of old regrets in the blue eyes and changed the 
subject. "How was your journey?"

"Long. Boring. Comfortable." Tom shot a questioning glance at the Emperor. "Why 
am I here?"

"I need your help. With Julian." Jean-Luc laid a thin hand on one shoulder.

"Of course," Tom immediately replied.

"He regards you like a true brother. He's going to need you now more than ever." 
The older man's voice was sad but certain.

Tom merely nodded, not knowing what to say.

The Emperor straightened, reclaiming his hand and looking out the viewport. 
"Enough. Tonight I have no stomach for politics. I just want to look at the 
stars and remember that even the greatest empire comprises just the tiniest 
speck of an indifferent universe."

So Tom plotted a course and the men drifted in the silence of space.

************************************************************
************************************************************

A strange sight greeted Chakotay as he crossed the shuttlebay of the Phoenix 
after landing his craft for a morning meeting with the Emperor. Julian Bashir 
Picard stood surrounded by members of the Imperial Guard. He was swinging a 
broadsword as his similarly armed men defended themselves as best they could. It 
was a close approximation of the routines practiced by successful gladiators in 
arenas throughout the Empire.

Julian didn't notice the admiral's arrival, so deep was he into his exercises. 
He was obsessed with the Empire's rebels turned reluctant warriors. Despite this 
era of clean technologies, the gladiatorial games were still fought with weapons 
of edged metal. The crowds loved the sweat and blood and gore of the spectacle. 
Despite being the inhabitants of a modern age, their appetites were stirred by 
the most primitive forms of violence. And the handlers of the gladiators always 
gave the people what they wanted.

Julian liked the idea of the games, the test of strength and skill that had a 
clear winner and most often a dead loser. He'd started sneaking to Mars and 
other planets to watch the gladiators in person when he was a teen. It was his 
secret dream to one day take his place in the arena, to pit himself against a 
worthy opponent. To prove his superiority. Of course, it was an absurd notion 
his father would never approve. So Julian stayed silent on the matter and 
continued his practice in the ancient art of combat.

Chakotay noted the fighting men, then ignored them. He too had often wielded 
sword and mace and axe, but only on the holodeck. And it was never such a rigid 
ritual. Instead it was amid the muck and ruin of ancient battlefields, deep in 
the melee of men fighting for their lives and a desperate cause. He killed in 
those scenarios, and it wasn't clean or honorable. It was cruel and nasty and 
necessary. It had to be. Chakotay used the holoprograms to remind himself that 
even though he rarely saw the faces of the enemy dead, as Admiral of the 
Imperial Fleet he *was* a killer. He could never forget that, lest he slip and 
begin to think victory was worth any cost to the lives of others.

He had been told Julian was obsessed with fighting and physical prowess. He had 
also heard rumors of darker activities, including assaults and atrocities 
involving slaves. Those stories chilled Chakotay's soul, though he desperately 
hoped they were simply character-bashing by rivals to the royal family.

Chakotay had never seen a slave. Jean-Luc Picard had banned them from military 
vessels long before Chakotay enlisted, and none of the frontier worlds where he 
had spent his life and career allowed them. Now that there was peace in the 
Empire, Chakotay hoped Jean-Luc would institute social reforms, with the 
abolishment of both slavery and gladiatorial games at the top of the list.

The admiral sighed when the doors closed behind him, shutting out the clang of 
swords. He swiftly made his way to the Imperial suite, nodding at Phoenix crew 
and Imperial Guards as he passed them. At last he stood before the final set of 
doors. Taking a deep breath, he entered.

***************

The Emperor's living space was simply but richly decorated. Antique furniture of 
wood and velvet was scattered about the room, sharply contrasting the modern 
bulkheads and viewports. Jean-Luc was seated at a millennia-old oak desk, 
writing in his journal. He preferred the pen, feeling that the ink and paper 
somehow made his thoughts more permanent, more real. Besides, no one could hack 
into his book to invade his privacy before the manuscript was ready for 
publication.

At his admiral's entrance he paused in his writing and looked up. "Why are we 
here, Chakotay?"

Chakotay couldn't read the emperor's enigmatic eyes, so he answered literally. 
"To save the Empire from Dominion forces."

"Perhaps...but what have I really saved?" Jean-Luc rose and indicated a wall 
panel that displayed the vast territory under his rule. "I have spent decades 
spilling blood and sacrificing my people. In leading this greedy empire I have 
become its slave."

He gestured toward the volume on his desk. "I have merely pretended to be a 
philosopher, a man of reason. In all my decades on the throne I have had barely 
a handful of years of true peace. I am nothing more than a bully drawing lines 
in the sand and stomping those who dare to cross them. Is this all the legacy I 
leave behind? Why then did I bother?"

Chakotay sought to reassure his longtime friend and leader. "To secure our 
borders. To bring safety, justice, learning---"

"I have brought nothing but the sword!" Jean-Luc spat. "And while I worried 
about the wolves snapping at the edges the very heart of my Empire fell prey to 
decay and corruption."

"But sire---"

"Don't call me that." Jean-Luc's eyes blazed with a strength his body no longer 
possessed. Then they quieted to mingled challenge and warmth as the Emperor 
regarded Chakotay. "We must talk now man to man, without title or pretense. Can 
you do that?"

Chakotay's unsettled emotions decided for him. "If you want the truth then I 
will give it to you. This self-pity is unworthy of the people who have given 
their lives for your Empire---for you. They went into battle believing their 
cause was just and good, and your doubts spit upon their sacrifice. You make it 
sound as if they died for nothing."

"Then what did they die for, Chakotay?" Picard demanded.

"For you, for the Empire, for their homes, for Earth. I've lived on the borders 
all my life, Jean-Luc. Much of the universe is cold and brutal and dark. Earth 
is the light."

"But you have never even been there," Picard said, some private resolution 
settling in his expression. "You've not seen what it's become." The emotion and 
its temporary burst of energy seemed to drain from him, and he reached out for 
Chakotay's support. His arm was immediately secured in a strong but tender clasp 
and he was guided to a sofa.

The Emperor's voice was filled with the burdens of a long rule as he turned to 
speak, gazing into the younger man's worried eyes. "I am dying, Chakotay. When a 
man reaches the end of his life he wants to know his loved ones are taken care 
of. All of the people of the Empire are my responsibility, and I know now that I 
have failed them. I don't want to be remembered as a man who perpetuated 
indifference, Chakotay. I want to be the Emperor who gave Earth back her true 
self."

Chakotay remained silent, confused and concerned. After a few moments Jean-Luc 
continued in an even softer voice, his eyes filled with visions of times long 
gone.

"The Federation was a dream that came true once, Chakotay. The ghost of its past 
and its promise still lives, but it's so fragile anything more than a whisper 
would kill it. I must leave it guarded and locked within my heart, for I'm no 
longer strong enough to bring it to life or keep it safe...." Jean-Luc's voice 
cracked as he groped for Chakotay's hand. Feeling his own fingers cradled gently 
in a warm, powerful grip calmed the emotions that had briefly overwhelmed him.

The Emperor smiled, recovering. "Let us just whisper here a moment, you and I. 
You have a son, yes? You must love him very much."

Chakotay, struggling with his own feelings, simply nodded.

Jean-Luc relaxed against the cushions. "Tell me about your home." He was stunned 
by the softening of his fierce warrior's eyes and face as Chakotay parted his 
lips to speak.

"It's a green and quiet place, a farm on Dorvan V outside the village where I 
was born. The soil is rich and black and fertile. The house is simple and the 
yard enclosed by a separate wall, all golden stones that reflect the warmth of 
the long days. The fields are small but full of variety, like a patchwork quilt. 
Inside the wall there's grass and gardens, the scent of herbs and roses in the 
daytime and jasmine at sunset. We have olives as well, and arbors bursting with 
grapes. There are orchards, but also wild fields and forests in the hills where 
my son watches the butterflies dance." Chakotay's voice was hushed with the 
wonder of the memories.

"And how long since you last saw it?" Jean-Luc asked sympathetically.

"Two years, two hundred and fifty-three days and eight hours." The response was 
accurate and automatic.

Jean-Luc smiled, then gave Chakotay's hand a last squeeze and let it go. "I envy 
you, Chakotay. It sounds like a good home. One worth fighting for."

Chakotay's gut clenched in warning as the soft light in the Emperor's eyes 
hardened into the steely glint of command. "I have one more duty to ask of you, 
Chakotay, before you go home."

"What would you have me do, sire?" was the immediate response.

"Before I die, I would return the worlds under my rule to the wisdom and 
integrity of the past. The Empire will become a Federation once more, with power 
vested in a duly elected Council and President."

Chakotay's jaw dropped in shock. "But to give up your power will have all people 
reaching for it. The result could be anarchy and chaos."

"That is why I need you to become the Protector of the new Federation. To see it 
through its labor pains and first vulnerable days. I will empower you to a 
single mission: to give the people back their voice and vote, and end the 
corruption that has crippled the Empire from within."

Chakotay was stunned speechless. Such an incredible dream, such an impossible 
task was beyond his imagination.

Jean-Luc reacted to his admiral's silence. "You do not accept this great honor I 
offer you?" he asked in disbelief.

Chakotay could hear the clink of the prison door, forever trapping him in the 
cage of this duty. "With all my heart, no."

Jean-Luc smiled sadly. "That is why it must be you."

Chakotay made a desperate protest. "But why not a Council member or one of your 
own staff? Someone who knows Earth and all the intricacies of Imperial 
politics."

"Because you have not been corrupted by those politics," Jean-Luc replied 
simply.

"And what about Julian?" The question was grave.

"Julian is not a moral man." Old eyes and young locked as they remembered the 
past. "You have known that for more than a decade, Chakotay. He is not fit to 
rule." The older man's frame shuddered in imagined horror. "He *must not* rule."

Jean-Luc looked down a moment, then gazed at Chakotay once more. "You are the 
son I should have had, that Julian should have been. But I fear it was too late 
for him the moment he was born. The Bashirs have lived so long immersed in power 
and depravity it seems to have even tainted their blood, or their very souls."

He took a deep breath and straightened his jacket. "Julian will accept my 
decision. And if not, he knows you command the loyalty of the Fleet and the 
respect of the Guard." He stood to return to his desk, the matter settled.

"I need some time, sire." Chakotay's eyes were pleading; he was lost in the 
whirl of words and what they meant for his life.

Jean-Luc looked down at the man who had just been named to an office he never 
sought or desired. He gave a knowing smile and small nod. "Yes, but I hope by 
this time tomorrow you will have granted me your acceptance. Now come, let me 
embrace you as a son."

Chakotay rose and returned the hug as they simply stood for a few minutes, both 
of them knowing that the universe had changed. When they parted, honor and 
honesty and respect for Jean-Luc forced him to speak. "You should take the time 
to reconsider your decision as well, sire. My vision of the Federation is not 
the same as yours. There would be freedom and an equal place for all, not just 
those lucky enough to be born on Earth or in a human skin."

Jean-Luc smiled. Chakotay had passed his final test. "That is what I most 
sincerely hope, Chakotay. Now help me return to my scribblings."

Chakotay assisted the Emperor back to his chair, heart and spirit already 
dreading the thoughts to come. He rested his fingers a moment on a frail 
shoulder.

Jean-Luc nodded and sighed. "There is much to do, my friend, and no matter what 
our rank we are all slaves to time. And duty."

Chakotay bowed and left, his last sight the starlight revealing the veins in a 
thin pale hand lifting a pen once more.

***************

Chakotay entered the corridor, practically stumbling past the Imperial Guards 
stationed there. He turned, walked past a few other junctions and slipped into a 
small Observation Lounge. Overwhelmed by conflicting feelings, he leaned his arm 
on the wall and bowed his head. He was so deep in his thoughts he didn't hear 
the portal open behind him.

Tom Paris quietly stood by the closed door a moment. He had asked the computer 
to let him know the moment Chakotay exited the Imperial chambers, but had barely 
been able to catch up to the quickly moving Admiral. When his breathing calmed 
he broke the silence. "It's been a long time, Chakotay."

Chakotay turned to face the man who from long ago had haunted his dreams. 
Flashes of the innocent youth echoed in the face and eyes, but Tom had 
definitely matured. His slender body was still long-limbed, but a learned 
elegance had supplemented its inherent grace. His hair had darkened to reddish-
gold, and the boyish curls had been discarded for a close-cropped style. Faint 
lines of laughter or sadness gave his pale features a strength and wisdom that 
only experience can award.

He felt a strong need to gather Tom into his arms and finally learn the wonder 
of the younger man's kiss, the beauty of his spirit. It was a moment he felt 
born for, as if the only true purpose of his life was to find and love this man. 
But instead he briefly raised his hand to his tattoo and reminded himself that 
all Fate would allow them to share was regret. "Hello, Tom. You've changed."

"Many things have changed," Tom agreed. "Everything." He knew now that the 
feelings of a decade ago were not some adolescent crush or base sexual drive, 
but the true recognition of his soulmate. The still-vibrant connection between 
them confirmed it: the universe had crafted a home for Tom within the circle of 
Chakotay's arms. Tom's throat tightened as his eyes fell on the unfamiliar 
tattoo. Since no ring glimmered on the strong bronze fingers, he guessed the 
graceful indigo lines were the sign of marriage among the older man's people. 
Even if Tom might be free to love, Chakotay definitely was not. He swallowed 
down his despair.

Chakotay stared at Tom for a long moment, as if memorizing his face. Then he 
bowed and moved to leave.

"Chakotay, wait!" Tom reached his quarry in two quick strides. "Let me look at 
you," he asked softly.

The older man sighed and turned, trying to keep his expression serene.

Tom examined the tense features, the shadowed eyes. "You're upset," he said, 
desperately wanting to lay a comforting hand against a bronze cheek.

"Too many people have died," Chakotay snapped in automatic response. A bit too 
quickly. He winced as aristocratic features shifted into lines of concern.

"What did the Emperor want with you?" Tom asked.

"To wish me well before I return to Dorvan," Chakotay replied.

Tom smiled wryly. "You should just give it up, Chakotay. You never could fool 
me."

"I never was comfortable with lies." The soft voice was flat.

"And you think I am?" The blue eyes narrowed. "Maybe you think I've acquired a 
taste for them."

Chakotay shrugged. "I think you have a talent for survival."

Tom couldn't deny that truth. He shifted a little closer, staring into the 
depths of the troubled gaze. "Is it so terrible to see me again, Chakotay?" he 
whispered.

Yes, Chakotay thought, because despite ten years and my family I can't seem to 
forget you. And this is ripping open a wound that will never heal. But he said, 
"Of course not, I'm simply tired."

"And it shocked you to see Jean-Luc so frail," Tom said, knowing the Emperor 
held a special place in both their hearts. "Julian thinks he's going to be 
officially named heir, that it's only a formality." He tilted his head 
curiously. "Will you serve the son as you've served the father?"

"I will always serve my people," Chakotay said stiffly. The question was too 
close to the confusion in his mind and heart. He hesitated, then reached a hand 
to Tom's shoulder. "I was so very sorry to hear of Annika's death."

Tom felt a small ache at the loss of that sweet soul. He nodded, and resisted 
the urge to cover the hand on his shoulder with his own. Instead, he shifted a 
little and was immediately freed. "Thank you for your letter. For a long time 
Lucien read it every night. I never realized 'Nika had talked to you about her 
mother's death."

Full lips twisted ruefully. "She didn't feel she could have those kinds of 
conversations with you or Julian. I'm surprised nobody ever figured it out. It's 
not like I would have been much good at teaching ballet."

Tom grinned. "We were kids. We thought you could do anything."

Chakotay returned the smile, then sobered. "How is Lucien?"

"Getting better. He kept Annika's stone too. I think it comforts him."

"How old is he now?"

Tom smiled at thoughts of his son. "A very mature 8. He's certainly better 
behaved than I remember being at that age."

His former kid-sitter guessed that was Annika's influence. "My son is also 8. He 
teases his mother by pretending the Spirits and the Prophets are one and the 
same."

"So you did wed a Bajoran?" Tom's voice rose slightly, confirming the rumor.

"Yes. Ro Laren. Feisty and beautiful, with hair and eyes as black as the night." 
Chakotay smiled softly, then looked at the man he would have married if he'd had 
the chance. Suddenly the emotions he was feeling, the decisions he had to make, 
were too much to bear. He was caught in the press between what was and what 
might have been.

"Good-bye Tom," Chakotay whispered and escaped.

Tom watched him go, the powerful figure blurring before his misty eyes.

************************************************************

Chakotay sat in his bedroom aboard Voyager, staring at the objects spread out in 
front of him. There were many items in the medicine bundle, including a knotted 
braid made of three strands of dark hair: his, his wife's, and his son's. He 
picked up the object and ran it through his fingers.

The spirit plane eluded him this night. He had spent the day in silent argument 
with himself as he read damage reports and assigned ships to secure the last 
Dominion planetside strongholds. Duty demanded he honor Jean-Luc's request, but 
so many things pulled him toward the path home. Love of his family, his tribe, 
the green fields and forests of Dorvan. The call to peace.

Chakotay sighed and set down the braid. He also felt himself hopelessly 
inadequate to the task the Emperor set before him. He'd never felt at ease with 
politicians; he didn't understand how people could lie with so little effort. 
And he detested pandering and flattery.

Chakotay lifted a small sapphire, faceted and sparkling. He wished he could take 
back his harsh comment to Tom. He knew the younger man was trapped by Imperial 
demands, the same as he was. And Tom had learned to skillfully navigate the 
shifting seas of politics, maintaining his integrity and refusing to be sucked 
under by petty power games. Chakotay would do well to have such an able guide if 
he went to Earth.

The dark head shook in confusion as bronze hands quickly gathered up the bundle 
and set it aside. He would sleep on things and hope his course of action would 
come to him in dreams. He stretched and walked to the living area for a soothing 
cup of herbal tea.

***************

Ensign Harry Kim looked up from the desk at the sound of the opening door. He 
scrambled to his feet when the Admiral appeared. "I thought you had retired for 
the night, Sir."

Chakotay smiled at the eager young officer. Harry was one of a handful of young 
men and women Chakotay had selected to follow the command path he had walked so 
many years ago. There was one on each large ship, mentored by the captain, 
learning all of the jobs on each vessel while continuing their academic studies.

Harry right now served as his and Captain Cavit's personal attaché, learning 
administrative tasks and reviewing battle tactics. Though Harry was from Earth, 
he'd never lorded the advantages of his birth over his crewmates, most of whom 
were recruited from the frontier. Chakotay admired his forthright nature; he 
thought Harry was a good man who could grow into a great one.

Chakotay walked to the replicator. "I decided to have a cup of tea." He raised 
his brows and at the Ensign's nod ordered two mugs. He motioned for the younger 
man to join him on the sofa. "Why are you burning the midnight oil? The battle 
is won. You should be in your own quarters sleeping---or in someone else's 
celebrating."

Harry blushed at the gentle teasing and buried his face in his mug. When he'd 
first arrived from the Academy he'd had a big crush on and case of hero-worship 
for the strong and handsome Admiral. He knew Chakotay had been aware of his 
feelings and tried in his own subtle way to make things easier on the star-
struck Ensign. Eventually Harry had grown out of it and now regarded the older 
man as simply a friend and mentor. "I was just finishing up my last report on 
the dampening devices." He sensed Chakotay was unsettled. "Is there anything I 
can do for you, sir?"

Chakotay regarded him a moment. "Harry, do you ever find it hard to do your 
duty?"

Harry gave the question some serious thought. "Well, most of the time I do what 
I choose, or my duty is something I want to do." He set down his mug and looked 
at Chakotay. "But sometimes I just do what I have to, because that's the oath I 
took when I accepted the uniform."

Chakotay nodded, finished his tea and rose. He briefly laid a hand on the 
younger man's shoulder. "We may not be able to go home after all, Harry." His 
voice was heavy with regrets. "Even though the battle is won, the war may not 
be." He left for bed without another word.

Harry walked to back to his quarters and settled down to sleep, but lay in the 
darkness a while pondering Chakotay's words. And trying to dispel the chill in 
his soul.

TBC