Chakotay watched with dazed eyes as the shuttle lifted off. It sped away into the thick, black darkness. He had no idea how he got to the transport launching pads, except that he must have been running. He had known from the moment he threw Sedeka off his shuddering body, that his world had come to a shameful end. It was mostly that he sensed a darkness descending upon him, a void of black so complete that neither sight, nor sound, nor touch nor sense could direct him out of the abyss. Once before, he found his way out; there was an instinct, like an animal perhaps, that guided him to the light. Now, he knew with intuitive clarity, that the darkness would walk forever with him.

His mind was a miasma of swirling memories of the past few hours, lately overtaken by the first squall that was his guilt, crashing down on him without reserve for rank or person or sex. Already, he knew he was tumbling over backwards into hell.

He was breathless, a sharp pain in his chest making breathing different. One moment he clutched convulsively at his chest, the next moment he sank to his knees.

He looked up in the direction where the shuttle had silently dissolved into the black sky. It left and Chakotay, already bogged down by the weight of his guilt, so new, so alien to him that he couldn’t comprehend its power, knew a petrifying grief. Not a word escaped from his lips, but somewhere in his brain registered the fact that his lips were moving, and his hands were trembling.

The crazed ecstasy that imprisoned him all afternoon into the evening had lifted the moment he had seen Kathryn standing in the door of their bedroom. Not now, not ever will he know how he came to sense that Kathryn had been watching them, that she was there. He just looked that way… The next moment he realised the shattering truth. Someone - Sedeka - was straddling him. An instant, and he knew that the person on top of him was not Kathryn. Swamped momentarily by the confusion, Sedeka uttered her coarse invitation.

The fog lifted. For the first time he could see Sedeka clearly, and he could see Kathryn.

In that moment he realised, not consciously, but a deep, inborn sense of just, that he wronged Kathryn.

Kathryn watched.

Kathryn bled.

Kathryn died.

Kathryn was gone.

Only then Chakotay howled into the darkness. He wailed Kathryn's name for a few agonising seconds, his hands outstretched to the heavens in helpless supplication of abject remorse.

No one answered him. The skies remained mute, the ground silent and the air around him accused , and the darkness swallowed him.

"Oh, Kathryn..." he wailed, his face without tears, for his pain was too great, and his shame impossible to bear.

There were no tears.

No tears.

Hollow eyes.

Chakotay rose to his feet and walked slowly back to his house along the same path he had run after Kathryn. Kathryn's pain-filled face haunted him. It moved with him, every step he took, remained fixed on a spot that wouldn't move away.

The look in her eyes burned on his brain, it etched in terrifying clarity her pain which had lain so ruthlessly open for him to see. He tried to shut it out, but he kept seeing her image: a persistent vision that followed him, or walked as a vanguard, making certain that he didn't miss it, or making certain he couldn't avoid it. No matter where he turned his head, her face was there. Etched with pain, confusion, hurt… he had never seen her like that.

He had inflicted an incalculable injury on her. Everything he held to be truth and justice and trust and faith, lay at his feet, shattered. He trembled violently as he neared his house. For now, thoughts of what he had done, and the partner of his heinous deed began to transform into anger and burgeon into a rage such as he had never felt, not even when he saw…God help him, when he saw Caroline Meissen issuing him a similar obscene invitation.

Sub-Commander Sedeka…the woman knew…

When he entered the house, Sedeka stood in the lounge, fully dressed in her military armour. She looked at him, her eyes smouldering, but her lips curling again in what he only now realised, was a spiteful smile. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to step away from that malevolence that now, all of a sudden, revealed itself with full force.

"I was doing my job," she smirked.

"You bitch," he hissed and lunged for her. Sedeka jumped out of the way, knocking over the low table where the remnants of their dinner scattered over the floor. He stared at her with impotent rage. Somewhere in his brain warped images of unholy copulation made way for a tiny straw, a sliver of redemption he knew must somehow be for him. This was not real, he thought. Reality was Kathryn's pain, the doe-like fear, the confusion, the running… Reality was Sedeka doing things with him and him doing things with Sedeka. Somewhere amid the disorder of myriads of strange waves that criss-crossed and made him insane with fear and anger and grief, was a clarity: Chakotay knew that Sedeka had planned all of it.

That didn't lessen his guilt.

"What the hell have you done to me?"

"I fucked you. You fucked me. I wanted it. You wanted it."

Sedeka smiled sweetly when she said it. It incited his anger, fanned his fury and he lunged again for her. He wanted to curl his fingers round her throat and squeeze the life out of her.

"What have I done to her?" he screamed at her.

"I have to leave..." Sedeka said, her voice dripping sarcasm. She made to move past Chakotay.

"Like hell you will," he barked. He was fully conscious and actually able to see her clearly through his mindless fury. He grabbed her, his fingers curling round her throat. "You crazy bitch!" he bit out furiously. When Sedeka attempted another insolent smile, Chakotay's fingers closed tighter round her neck. He squeezed, his thumb pressing against her throat. He was blind to everything but that this female had helped him ruin Kathryn's life, and his. Sedeka started choking, then struggling to breathe as her hands started flailing. Even though she was stronger than the average human, she was no match for Chakotay's enraged and superhuman strength as he squeezed the life out of her. Sedeka's eyes began to pop, then her tongue plopped out of her mouth. Where Chakotay had pushed her against the wall, she sank slowly down, with his fingers like iron clamps round her neck. Like that Sedeka collapsed, her hands clutching Chakotay's as she tried to free herself. Her body became limp as all air left her.

Then suddenly, she was able to breathe again as Chakotay's fingers released their vice grip. She coughed several times, the bluish-purple tinge of her skin that had turned to almost indigo as the blood ran from her face, returned when she could take in air in large gulps. Chakotay grabbed her by the collar and pulled her unceremoniously up. He wasn't finished with her. Then he shook her so hard that her head lolled about on her neck. This time though, she had regained some strength and she fought back, managing to push his hands away. In the next moment Chakotay had grabbed her collar, and he drew back his fist, aiming for her eyes. Sedeka stared at him, her eyes wide. Seconds earlier she was almost dead. She didn't look grateful that he spared her.

"You'll regret it, Commander Chakotay, " she said, unafraid.

"Don't worry, I'm already a dead man."

"Fuck you."

Chakotay wanted to hit her, hit her square between the eyes. For a few maddening seconds she was his adversary on the holodeck, and he was going to punch her senseless. He felt the heat in his eyes, crazy, demonic, and all he wanted was to do this female physical harm. He could plant his fist right between the eyes and kill her with one blow.

Then he dropped his hand and pushed her roughly away from him.

"Get out. Get out before I kill you..."

"It was good of you to have me - "

"Get out!"

When she was finally gone, Chakotay sank down on the couch in deep despair. He looked about him, saw the leftover food, the bottles, glasses that perched on window sills and other surfaces. He saw…his clothes…boots…

He saw Kathryn's face.

Then he wept.

Dry, wracking sobs that punished his body.

"Don't leave me, Chakotay..."

He was mad, drunk. What happened to him? Who was he and who was Sedeka? What has she done? Since the afternoon, when they had been sharing a meal, the day had taken on a surreal feel. Nothing was real, nothing tangible. He was someone else and she... She was... Chakotay shook his head to dispel the last of the hazy cobwebs that had been in his head.

Something was wrong.

Something of terrifying proportions was horribly, horribly wrong.

"Think, man," he ordered himself. "Think!"

Kathryn's image stared at him again and he gave another cry of pain.

"God, help!" he cried in helpless entreaty.

He had sex today. Perhaps all afternoon, yet he had little recollection of how, when it started except that he had begun to think Sedeka was Kathryn. The signs were all around him. No decorum. Ugly, debasing something that ought to be the expression of all that was good in a marriage, a partnership. Was he in a dream state?

Whatever it was, that Kathryn witnessed it, that Kathryn's eyes died in those moments, was what was real.

"My life is over…that is real…"

"My life is over…that is real…"

It was unpardonable. He had been coarse, obscene, and only when he saw Kathryn, when the mist of his lust lifted fractionally, he had had a glimpse of reality. Kathryn had seen him with another woman. Not only that, she had seen them in that act of sex. How he come to do it? How? He loved Kathryn. He loved her to the point of insanity; he would die for her.

Die for her.

Die for her.

Now, when the anger subsided, he could think straight.

He knew he would never betray Kathryn. Their love was real. It was a miracle. They shared something rare, something most people never experienced in an entire lifetime. He has never betrayed anyone, not even, God help her, Caroline Meissen. Never had he thought that he could cheat on anyone. Kathryn was a refined being; she shrank naturally away from the coarse, the baseness. There was about her an inherent integrity, and above all, he admired that most in his wife, respected her as a woman, a fellow officer.

He knew on a certain intellectual level, that he could never do that to Kathryn. He was a principled being; when he pledged his devotion to Kathryn, it was with a profound knowledge and humility that he knew he would love her forever, that he would walk through fire for her, that he would die for her.

He betrayed Kathryn.

Something was wrong.

He had to get to the bottom of the mystery. It was a mystery. Sedeka made him dirty. They did something dirty and made his wife watch. She had come here to their home and found her husband…

Chakotay closed his eyes and broke down again, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed.

When the sobbing subsided, he rose stiffly from the couch, only now smelling the smell of fornication that pervaded the house, the odour of stale wine… He felt suddenly nauseous, and hurried to the bathroom where he bent double over the toilet and retched painfully.

The retching smelled of wine and old sex. Reeked of it. Old Cardassian wine and Federation cider and sex. He retched again, his stomach heaving as the waves kept rolling through him. Then he ran a cold shower and pulled off the boxers he had quickly pulled on when he ran out after Kathryn. As if to remind him again and again of what he had done, when he touched his penis, it felt raw… tender…

Then he scrubbed. He scrubbed himself down with all his might. He scrubbed till his skin bled, tiny capillaries that the ice cold of the shower caused to warm up in heightened awareness that they had to transport lifesaving blood, made themselves vulnerable as Chakotay abused his body to wipe the Cardassian Sedeka off it. All the time he scrubbed, Chakotay howled his grief.

He bled.

Only later, he let the warm spray of the shower sting him, a burn so fierce that he cried out again.

"Oh, dear God, Kathryn...What have I done to you?"

Long he stood and let the heat of the water burn him.

When he was finished, he dressed quickly, wincing as his skin rebelled against the coarseness of the fabric. Kathryn's image kept flashing, a persistence of vision he welcomed. He wanted to ache, to feel the accusing, and hold the shame.

He had been having sex with Sedeka all afternoon. That fact stood out. His bedroom...

Yet, something lingered. A memory, a sliver of a recollection that he had at times been aware it was Kathryn on top of him, then Sedeka. Later, Kathryn changed to Sedeka. How was that possible unless he was drugged?

Unless he was in another state of being, a hallucinatory state?

How could he explain his deeds to Kathryn? How could he justify it? There was none. That he betrayed her, no matter what the provocation, or the reason, valid or otherwise, he betrayed his beloved wife. That alone was a reprehensible act.

He groaned as the reality of the situation hit him.

He had to go after Kathryn. Explain to her.

Explain what?

Nothing.

Who would believe him?

So, he tidied up, and when he picked up the bottles, he frowned.

He frowned deeply.

What was Kathryn doing here?

He had told her not to communicate with him, and an emergency message would have been made through official channels. That was the way they always did their weekly communications. Why did she come here, unannounced?

Why?

That thought puzzled him while he took Sedeka's bottle of Cardassian brandy which he never touched. The bottle was untouched. The other bottles…his own cider was finished, and a little wine was left from Sedeka's light table wine.

He walked back to the bathroom and took a med-kit from the cabinet. His skin was still tingling, raw from the scrubbing, but he poured the last drops of the wine into an empty phial. He had not emptied his bladder and on an inspiration, collected a sample of his urine in another phial. He walked to the kitchen and on the table were the leftovers, and of everything that he and Sedeka ate that was Cardassian delicacies, he took samples.

He became hopeful again, though not the kind of hope that Kathryn could ever put what she witnessed behind her. If there had been foul play, then he had been a participant. It was plain and simple. That is all Kathryn would see. She found her husband in her bed with another woman.

What sentence other than guilty could be written next to his name?

Still, it would help if he could find a solution to the niggling doubts setting in.

But first, he had to see his father.

*****

Kolopak looked at his son.

Chakotay's head was bent where he sat opposite him. Although his hands were clasped together, the way his fingers laced, Kolopak could see the trembling.

Chakotay was either angry, or bitter, embarrassed or ashamed.

He could be all those things, Kolopak thought as the sympathy welling up in him. Chakotay had come into his home and Kolopak had asked immediately that Hannah retire to their room, telling her that he would explain everything later. Now, an hour later, after Chakotay had told him the shattering news, he didn't know if he too, should feel angry at his son for allowing himself to be manipulated by a woman.

"Father..." Chakotay's eyes had been red, as if he had been crying. Kolopak made him sit down because Chakotay had been shaking violently then. "I - I...need your counsel..."

"My son, what is ailing you? Did something happen? To Kathryn?"

Kolopak had sensed that Chakotay's extreme distress had to do with Kathryn. Chakotay could only react in this way, or look like his world had come to an end if someone close, like his wife - if something happened to that person. Did anything happen to his wonderful and kind daughter-in-law? he wondered.

"No...yes...no..." Chakotay had sounded indecisive, not knowing how to respond.

"Speak, my son," he encouraged.

Then, in halting tones, and with growing alarm and shock, Chakotay spoke of Sedeka, the Cardassian officer, of their afternoon together, of Kathryn who turned up at his house and saw them.

He had tried not to show how shocked he was. Chakotay needed a counsellor, not a judge.

"This Sedeka..." Kolopak said, "she was seen entering your house, my son."

He had not wanted to make Chakotay feel worse, but Chakotay needed to know that people saw them; saw them and wondered. It could have been an innocent invitation.

"She was friendly, Father...you understand? I had no reason to - to mistrust her..." Chakotay had spat that last word as he remembered how friendly Sedeka had been.

"You love Kathryn with your whole heart, Cha-ko-tay, my son. I know that you would never knowingly do anything to hurt her..."

"But I did...I did..." Chakotay lamented.

Chakotay looked like he was ready to burst into tears.

"I almost killed that woman..."

"You didn't."

"No," Chakotay sighed. "No, I didn't."

"It will change nothing, Cha-ko-tay. Kathryn understands only what she has seen. You cannot explain to her that you were used, or manipulated. You were a willing participant."

Chakotay had looked up then, his eyes filled with pain. Kolopak felt his own heart break for his son who was caught in something that appeared beyond him to control.

"I can never deny that, Father. I - forgive me..." he whispered, then bent his head again. By the way his shoulders shook, Kolopak knew that Chakotay was sobbing - trying not to, but unable to stop.

"You have hurt your wife very deeply, my son. But Kathryn...right now, she will be too wounded, too battered by a trauma she did not expect, or understand. She will not listen to excuses or apologies. It does not matter how sorry you are - and I know how deep your remorse is, Cha-ko-tay. She will only see what she has seen. You are the husband she has taken after being alone for ten years, remember that. Kathryn has been afraid to trust, and to love again. When she put her life in your hands, she gave more than that, Cha-ko-tay. She gave you all of her trust and all of her faith and all of her love. And when she did that, it was with the divine knowledge that you would cherish and protect it with your own life. She would not have given herself to you on any other terms."

"Do you think I don't know that, Father?"

"I am just reminding you of it, Cha-ko-tay, because it will be the cross that you will bear."

"You are right," Chakotay sighed. "I cannot explain myself to her. My guilt is fixed."

Kolopak leaned forward and touched Chakotay's hands. When Chakotay sat up again and looked at him, Kolopak thought that his son may never be the same again. He looked like an old man, and overnight it seemed to him, many new creases had sprung up in his son's face. His face was strained, unsmiling, worried. Chakotay had transgressed, he felt his remorse bone deep, because his love for Kathryn was all-consuming. He knew that his son had taken Kathryn after he too, had been afraid to trust another human being with his heart. Now, Chakotay's fidelity was in question. Chakotay was a fine man, one who had principles and one who would die for those principles. Granted, he rebelled when he was fifteen and went off to the Academy and broke his father's heart, but Chakotay had done so because of a deep inner conviction to follow his dreams and know that his dreams were not impossible to attain. That was the man Chakotay was. That was his son. He tied his destiny to Kathryn, and Kathryn, the possessor of his heart, had the same power to infiltrate Chakotay's armour and make him vulnerable and break him. That was the power of love, made all the more powerful because she did not abuse it. Chakotay has done so, and, Kolopak believed, in an unwitting game of manipulation.

Therefore, Chakotay could never in all of the creation of the Sky Spirits, have gone willingly into the arms of another woman. Kolopak just knew that, the way he knew his son, and the way he had seen Chakotay with Kathryn... It was not the breathless love of the young; it was a deep river that flowed, in which he could see the respect they had for one another, an admiration for each others' strength. It was in everything - their looks, their hand gestures, a touch, the way their voices changed when they addressed each other. He, Kolopak, could see what neither Chakotay nor Kathryn could see because they had not reached that point in this terrible destruction to see things clearly and think rationally.

So, he figured...

"Do you suspect foul play, Cha-ko-tay, my son?"

"Even if I did, Father, it doesn't change anything, does it? I still betrayed my wife..." Chakotay gave a deep sigh. "I still betrayed her…betrayed her…" His shoulders started shaking again as he battled to contain himself. He brushed away at some tears that had fallen, a jerky movement over his face. Chakotay seemed like a beaten man.

"But something doesn't add up, does it?"

"If I can find what it is, it still does not expiate my guilt, Father."

"So you’re going to do nothing?"

Chakotay shook his head. He looked clearly too miserable to envisage a light at the end of his tunnel.

"I have to stay for tomorrow's talks, then I'll join my ship, Father."

"You're not going to contact Kathryn and find out why she was here in the first place?"

"Definitely not to spy on me," Chakotay replied sarcastically.

"She came to tell you something, Cha-ko-tay."

"But what?"

"You figure that out, Cha-ko-tay," Kolopak replied sagely, then thought to himself: And may the spirits guide you, my son. The road you are about to undertake is strewn with the thorns of the chaparral clay bush. It's a long, long road ahead for you back to Kathryn, and I don't know if I'll always be there to listen to you and lead you...

Kolopak leaned forward again to touch the shoulder of his first born. Chakotay sat with his head bent.

Hannah stood in the doorway of her bedroom and looked at father and son.

A single tear rolled from her cheek.

***

The Chamber of the Tribal High Council was full. Anthwara sat at the head of the long, gleaming table. In sharp contrast to the other buildings of the pueblo, the Chamber was modern, and the Council sitting was in accordance with Federation protocol. It was a concession and a mark of respect for the United Federation of Planets that they sought modernity in at least the application of their governance.

At the other end of the long table sat Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and the rest of the seats were taken up by tribal leaders and a Cardassian representative in the person of Gul Evek.

Kolopak knew that the talks would fail. Inasmuch as it was to preserve their remaining on Dorvan V under Federation laws, it was not going as planned. He had known that his people were implacable in their resolve to remain on Dorvan V, even if it meant they had to relinquish their precious Federation citizenship.

He reasoned in much the same way as Chakotay would have done, trying to convince his people that there could be another alternative, and that they could undertake another hundred years of travelling the stars to find that home. He was tied to this world as much as his fellow tribesmen were. They all had the spiritual connection to the planet, all of them could swear by the spirits of their ancestors that the very air breathed life; that their ancestors were there, in the spirit, guiding them, counselling them, emanating love and kindness. They had made a home here for two hundred years. This was their world as much as Earth belonged to the men and women who dwelled there.

Such a forced removal struck at the very heart of the Dorvans. They left Earth because their needs and cultural heritage and identity lay in tatters; there had been no sympathy, no compassion, only a silent disinterest in their beliefs. On Dorvan V they found their home, a new heimat that grew into the hearts of everyone who had been born there. No one could take it away from them. It was theirs and it meant freedom.

Now, the balance of power in the Alpha Quadrant depended on the people of Dorvan V. Kolopak knew - as well as Chakotay had told him many times - that the Federation considered their hard stand against forced removal as a liability. And so, in order for the expeditious severance of his people from their home world to take place, all they had to do was leave.

None of his people were ready to go.

There lay the heart of the power struggle.

War loomed on the horizon of Dorvan V's northern continent, it hovered hours away.

Jean-Luc Picard fought, offered uncompromising byways and alternatives, reasoned, bargained, lost.

Kolopak wondered idly if Chakotay had been present whether he would really have been able to sway his people into accepting the terms the Federation offered.

It may have worked.

But Chakotay would have been instrumental in suggesting another alternative, and that was to move the boundary of the newly proposed Demilitarised Zone so that Dorvan V could fall outside it and remain resultantly under Federation jurisdiction. Could it have worked? Kolopak sat through the long hours of bargaining for their future and their very existence on Dorvan V. He wondered whether Chakotay would have succeeded had he been here.

He didn't think so.

The overwhelming decision to remain would have made Chakotay's pleas like dross in the wind. He admired his son, loved him intensely. But Chakotay could only have done so much. Kolopak had himself given Chakotay his blessing to leave Dorvan V to follow Kathryn and make things right with her. Chakotay hadn't wanted to go; he knew that his duty was to remain and to see his people receive justice at the hands of both the Federation and the Cardassians. The threat of an ongoing war that had already laid to waste too many homeworlds, enslaved entire populations and massacred in such numbers that the Federation or any other reasonable man would have deemed to be an atrocity on a scale that had never in all of history been seen, loomed too large.

Dorvan V held the key to peace.

And so, its people bargained for peace in the name of peace.

Kolopak saw his home world transform from a protected mandate of the United Federation of Planets to a property of the Cardassian Union. After hours of talks, his people had opted to relinquish their citizenship of the Federation.

Jean-Luc Picard had declared that their decision had to be respected and accepted. He had tried his best, was saddened by the fact that Commander Chakotay had not been present to present a rational outlook on the whole scene and then concluded his summation by saying that the Federation could not, in the light of their decision, guarantee their safety.

The Dorvans had always felt that the Federation had treated them with less fairness than they had other worlds, and that once again, they would be drawing the shortest end of the stick. Their cause was noble, but it was one that rested in sentiment and not common sense.

Kolopak had nodded and accepted the new terms. When he raised his head and fixed his gaze on Gul Evek, he could have sworn he saw there a flinty look, one he had seen many times before when someone was contemplating an act of revenge. What was it with Gul Evek that stirred the restlessness in him? The man appraised him surreptitiously; all morning Kolopak had felt Gul Evek's eyes on him. Then Kolopak wondered what Gul Evek wanted, or what strange agenda he had.

It had to be. Kolopak had sensed as well, that the woman who had seduced his son, had something to do with this man. Once, he had seen them together, and at the time he had not given any thought to it. They had seemed close, not the kind of closeness of love such as he and Hannah shared, or Chakotay and Kathryn had, but now, with hindsight, after Chakotay had told him of his act of folly with that woman, he knew something was going on between Gul Evek and Sub-commander Sedeka.

They were thick as thieves. It hadn't looked like that a week ago, but thinking about it now, he knew as surely as he could see his own father in a vision quest and touch his leathery face, that Gul Evek and Sub-commander Sedeka were plotting something. Or, had plotted something.

Kolopak could sense it now, much stronger than he had when he had seen them together that day. Perhaps he had not been attuned to them, he had been so happy to see Chakotay back on Dorvan V to give them support. Now, it was strong, and the way Gul Evek stared at him, then smiled a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes, Kolopak knew that Gul Evek helped to mastermind the seduction of Chakotay and worked - or ordered - that Chakotay be rendered useless to their cause.

Kolopak knew in those moments that they had known Chakotay would leave Dorvan V without staying for the talks, and if Kathryn hadn't stumbled upon his son copulating with another woman, they would have seen to it that Chakotay would not be present at the all important talks. Didn't Kathryn's unannounced appearance play just brilliantly into their hands? They could not have known Kathryn was on her way to Dorvan V.

Whichever way Kolopak chose to look at it, they were going to succeed. They did in fact, succeed in getting rid of Chakotay.

That was the plan, an elaborate one in which the Cardassians had subtly outwitted the Federation, and held a phaser to the Federation's head by promising a long drawn out war of thirty years. The Federation could not afford such an engagement, and the Cardassians were on the point of garnering for themselves important and very, very powerful allies.

Kolopak could hold nothing against his son. Chakotay had unknowingly been a pawn in their game, a vicious and underhand game that had no rules in which his son's very life had been destroyed. Gul Evek and Sub-commander Sedeka had known of Chakotay's attachment to his wife, his deep and abiding love for Kathryn Janeway. Not for nothing did Sedeka appear here ahead of the other Cardassians. Not for nothing did she seek out Chakotay. If they could hurt his son, then they have struck a blow where they knew Chakotay might never recover. With that in mind, they set about to destroy an honest man. Sedeka's seduction had not been chance.

It was planned, vindictive and callously planned.

They got rid of Chakotay and sent a warning to the rest: more is to come.

That is why, when they rose from the long , gleaming table that witnessed the rise and fall of Dorvan V, Kolopak knew that this was not the end of the Cardassians's mission with them.

The look in Gul Evek's eyes could not be mistaken.

It filled Kolopak with great dread, a terrible unease that the trials of the people of Dorvan V was only just beginning.

Kolopak was afraid.

******

Captain Kathryn Janeway sat staring at the nebula that showed like a giant wad of cotton candy on the viewscreen. It was deep colours of pinks and peach, interspersing with lighter blotches of white. Normally the sight of a nebula like the one she was staring at filled her with excitement. It always stirred something in her. It was like peeling off layers and layers as they entered it, to discover an inexhaustible fount of delicious particles that promised anything from a new medical wonder cure to a cup of coffee. She'd opt for the coffee if she didn't feel so miserable. Most of the time the nebulas were predictable, it offered few surprises and were mostly to be ignored unless they hid something which her ship's sensors could pick up a ten parsecs away anyway. With their knowledge gained from explorers like Kirk and his crew, they knew what lay deep in the heart of the cloud. They could fly through it, they could harness its strength, collect omicron particles that could prove energy saving, or used as a weapon of mass destruction.

Sometimes, like the Enyocine Nebula, they had hidden depths. It's what she loved so much about her work. Exploring the unknown and finding answers.

Somehow, the Enyocine Nebula didn't attract her attention quite as it did in the past.

But right now, she could kill anything that moved that appeared vaguely like a Native American face.

She shook herself mentally. Where did that thought come from? Why did she feel so vindictive?

Her heart still bled. Her mind was in a whirl of shattered emotions, their delicate balance ruthlessly disturbed as she battled to find answers, some way that she could deny what she had seen or experienced, or some way of expiating guilt and eradicating the event as if it never happened and in an instant Chakotay would be standing at the entrance to the bridge, his beloved, smiling face showing none of the aggressive passion she witnessed. A free, relaxed Chakotay who would lift her high up any moment and ask forcefully:

"Have I told you lately how much I love you, Kathryn Janeway-Chakotay?"

Yet, her senses, her rationale, if ever she depended on it in those moments immediately after the crushing impact, failed her and brutally pointed her to the fact of what she witnessed. How could anyone even remotely find anything that could redeem the guilty of such a wanton occurrence?

It seemed impossible.

Right now, she didn't want to entertain any possibility, however far fetched it sounded, as a reasonable explanation.

A woman - Cardassian - would still be impaled above Chakotay, and that rankled. It destroyed her own sensibilities, her own vision of her husband as a refined man who shrank away from the dirt, the shameful and the obscene. Hadn't he been once the victim himself of such a humiliating experience?

She didn't want to find excuses for Chakotay. The hurt lingered something terrible, and hot on the heels of that hurt, riding on the rearguard of her defences came the bitterness, the anger, the hate.

How could she not feel it? When she returned to her cabin last night, she wanted to hurl the photograph of Chakotay against the bulkhead.

She had done all of her screaming, all of her tears, and when the anger came, the tears made way for a new brand of crying: angry, bitter, disillusioned. When that had stopped, she clutched painfully at her chest and remembered Hannah when her fingers curled around the familiar form of her locket.

Remember Hannah.

Chakotay didn't know about Hannah.

Hannah.

Kathryn emitted a light sob, so unobtrusive that her First Officer didn't notice as he too, kept staring at the nebula.

It was still morning, Alpha shift was halfway through and she knew that very soon she'd have to escape to her ready room just to centre herself again. Her warring emotions were rocking out of control…

She had no centre. What was she doing, fooling herself? What centre? What equilibrium? There was nothing. Her foundations had been ripped from beneath her and now, she felt she was drifting. She couldn't sleep, and her thoughts - evil thoughts! - betrayed her sickeningly as they pulled her in one direction only.

One direction.

She tried to picture Chakotay when he had been on this vessel with her, taking a well-earned break. The smiling face, the deep dimples, the eyes that always looked like they were teasing but rested kindly, loving on her, made way for another image.

A face, contorted with lust; eyes wild with obscene passion and hands that grasped, fingers that dug into purple-bluish and skin a voice that rasped.

She closed her eyes tight, to dispel the image.

Leave me… leave me…please…

She must have given a cry, because Eamon Daley looked at her askance, then turned his attention to the nebula again as she nodded to him. She sighed and sagged back into the depths of the command chair.

She had no idea, no idea at all what she was going to do.

She was still reeling from the shock of seeing him, and her heart was battered, bruised beyond measure, to a point where she wondered if she would ever look at her husband the same way again.

What excuse could he possibly have?

What excuse?

A month ago he had sworn again his love, and she had been humbled by the power of his devotion to her. He had been attentive to her needs, protected her when she thought it so old-fashioned of him to want to protect her. He had simply said:

"Indulge me, Kathryn Janeway. I love you too much and care too much to be ignorant of dangers lurking, or to be complacent."

"You're not complacent, Chakotay," she assured him then.

"I'll never be complacent about our relationship, Kathryn. Our love is a miracle, you hear me? A miracle..."

A miracle. That's what Chakotay said. A miracle.

She had managed to deflect the questions successfully that had inevitably come from Eamon Daley, Dr Benaren and Magnus Rollins and she could fool them. For now. At some point they were going to know something was afoot.

"Captain."

The hail came from Akbor Blok, her Chief of Operations.

"Yes?" She rose from the command chair and nodded quickly to Eamon Daley to take over.

When she stood next to Akbor at his station, he said softly.

"It's an incoming message for you, Captain. From Commander Chakotay."

"Thank you. Direct it to my ready room," she ordered, then she walked briskly to her ready room. She had not shown how the news tugged fiercely at her insides. What could Chakotay say that would appease her? What could he possibly say that would make her forgive him what he had done?

Yet, strangely, as wondrously incongruous as it may have appeared, she had wanted him to contact her, to follow her even. Some part of her being wanted him to run after her and explain everything and kiss away all her fears.

But, she had to remember a lust-filled face and all her bitterness returned.

She could not listen to him, not listen and hear things like "I'm sorry, it will not happen again."

God! Her heart cried.

Her husband in the arms of another woman.

Looking like he enjoyed making love to her.

Something in Kathryn threatened to break again. She couldn't live with it. It was too difficult, too difficult to bear.

The crude invitation.

Once Chakotay told her how Caroline Meissen invited him to do the same.

"Will you help fuck me, Chakotay?"

The same invitation, the exact words, not one less, not one more, just placed and positioned in crude reversion of syntax:

"Will you help me fuck Chakotay?"

Just before she switched on her vid-com, she whispered tremulously:

"How can I forgive him?"

Already, her eyes misted with the tears she had battled vainly to keep at bay all morning.

**

The silence was as uncomfortable as it was palpable. They stared at each other for long moments.

"Kathryn..."

Chakotay's eyes were bloodshot, as if he never slept. He missed probably two days' shave. The message had come from the Ormskirk and the thought flashed: why wasn't he on Dorvan V? She wondered why she should care at all. Still, he looked…guilty.

"Chakotay."

How did she sound so...cold?

"I - there is nothing I can say, Kathryn, that will in any way - "

She closed her eyes. Saw again the lust-filled face.

"Please..." she heard his voice. It sounded hoarse, hollow...

"You're right, Chakotay. There is nothing to say, is there?"

When she looked at the screen again, he was still staring at her.

" - that will in any way take away - your - your pain," he stammered.

She gave a deep sigh.

"No."

"I understand you're hurt, Kathryn..."

"Surprise me, Chakotay."

He looked away, then turned to face her again. He looked...beaten, she thought. But then, she hardened herself, steeled herself against feeling any sympathy.

"No, this isn't going to work. I - forgive me. I'll not trouble you again. I did you a grave injustice..."

"Are you going to tell me it's not what I saw?"

"Dammit, Kathryn."

She almost wanted to laugh. The man facing her, her husband, faithful to the end of his days, had a strange woman straddle him, impaled on him. What excuse could he have?

"You were a willing participant, Chakotay. I - I can't get past that. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm the one - "

"I can't do this, Chakotay. Please, go now..."

Then suddenly, the console went blank and the blue and white of the Federation insignia stared at her. She looked at it for such longs moments that she was unaware of the hot tears burning down her cheeks again.

"It's the end...the end...the end... And I haven't told him about Hannah..."

**

Chakotay stared stupidly at the Federation insignia. Kathryn cut him off in mid-sentence. He gave sigh of resignation. The hurt lay too deep.

Too deep.

He was never going to convince her of his innocence.

When all was said and done, all Kathryn could see, was him with Sedeka on top of him.

He would not blame her if she never wanted to see him again.

No, he would not blame her at all.

He was already in hell.

How much deeper could he go?

****

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