Hard Lessons Learned
By Ralkana

Disclaimer – I don't own them; Paramount does. If I owned them, I think they'd have been much, much happier.

Comments and feedback to Ralkana47@yahoo.com would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!

Timeline – Set late in the series, definitely after Equinox.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Kathryn wandered slowly down the street, forcing the security guard by her side to slow his methodical pace. She was hot and sticky and frustrated in the full-length robes of this planet's people. Her hair was drooping, and she just knew her perfectly-balanced, waterproof, Starfleet-issue make-up was running, but it didn't matter, because no one could see it under the hood she was wearing anyway.

"Why did we agree to wear this awful clothing instead of uniforms?" she hissed to the bewildered ensign at her side, who was also in full-length clothes. Unlike her outfit, his showed his arms, his feet, and his face – the males here wore no hoods.

"Ma'am?" he asked, unsure of how to reply to her uncharacteristic outburst.

You know why, Kathryn. You need the dilithium. The race on this planet was extremely patriarchal and conservative, and they refused to do any trade with Voyager unless all of their customs were observed. Another time, Kathryn might have scoffed and gone elsewhere, but Voyager's reserve supply of the precious crystal was running extremely low. So she'd agreed to the costume and the male escort, although she refused to have Chakotay speak for her, which made this planet's leaders very uncomfortable. Chakotay had – of course – offered to be her escort, but her pride was stung and she insisted on one of Tuvok's ensigns – a newly promoted one, no less – and she assured her senior staff she'd be perfectly fine.

Now, she was hot, thirsty, irritable and perfectly ready to beam back to the cool corridors of Voyager. But she knew the meeting hall was up ahead somewhere, and she was determined to show the misogynistic leaders of this planet that she was perfectly capable of trading for dilithium without a man's help, thank you very much.

The last straw came when she saw a group of women walking down the street without their hoods up, laughing as they chattered to one another. Under the sheer fabric, her eyes narrowed. That's it! If they can do it, I can too! I knew the damned ambassadors were just trying to make things as difficult as possible for me! And she lowered the hood, draping it around her neck.

Ensign White jumped. "Ma'am? What are – " He cut himself off, realizing that he was questioning the captain, but he continued to splutter inarticulately.

She began striding toward her destination, leaving him behind quickly, so that he had to run to catch up to her. Just as he did so, a native man passed by going the opposite direction. He stopped, glanced appreciatively at Kathryn, and made a suggestion so obscene that the universal translator couldn't pick up several words.

Kathryn gasped, her eyes widening, but before she could say anything, White stepped in front of her, fumbling for his phaser in the folds of his robes.

"She's not interested," he answered, but the authoritative tone he was trying for was ruined by the tremor that ran through his words.

She shoved him aside, ignoring the gasps of the gathering crowd, and stood straight, squaring her shoulders and thrusting out her chin.

"What did you say?" she inquired, in a tone of voice that would have had any Voyager crewmember running for the nearest jeffries tube.

The man's lips slowly split into a wide smile, and he repeated his comment, following up on it by clamping his large hand around her upper arm.

"Get your hand off me," she hissed, jerking away so forcefully that the man ended up stumbling and falling to the ground. This time she couldn't ignore the gasps and murmurs of the growing crowd, and she looked around quickly, trying to discern any of her crew. She had a feeling this was going to get ugly, and she could feel Ensign White trembling behind her.

The man slowly got to his feet and raised a hand to strike her, but before he could do so, another man pushed his way through to the front of the crowd and tapped him quite forcefully on the shoulder. Her assailant whirled around, hand still raised.

"She's not interested. You'd better just go on your way," the second man replied, and Kathryn's eyes widened at the low, even voice of her second in command. She looked into his dark eyes and saw fury blazing in them.

"She's a... who the hell are you?!" The first man replied, indignantly.

"She's with me. Leave now, before things become... unpleasant," Chakotay replied, and his voice was acquiring the rare soft thunder that meant a storm was brewing. Kathryn tried to step forward and found she couldn't move – a hand was clamped on either forearm. She looked to either side of her and saw the grim faces of Harry and Tom. She was again shocked into silence.

The man said something else that the universal translator wouldn't pick up, and he swung a fist at Chakotay. Kathryn closed her eyes. This was turning into an 'incident' of the worst kind. She heard the thud of the blow and opened her eyes. Chakotay was standing there, unmoved, and the man was gawping at him and shaking his fist. In one quick motion, Chakotay delivered a clean uppercut to the native man's jaw, and Kathryn gasped, though she was the only one. The man again sprawled in the dust, but this time, he showed no signs of getting up. The crowd began to disperse, but she noticed all of them casting worried glances at her.

"Com–"

"Shut up, Kathryn." Chakotay cut her off, and she spluttered in rage. Tom and Harry quickly let go of her, but before she could move, Chakotay grabbed her arm, jerked the hood back over her head, and began dragging her down the street. She fought, but he was stronger than she was, and she was forced to nearly run to keep up with him, as Tom and Harry strode behind them, with Ensign White trailing dejectedly behind the two younger men.

He turned down a narrow alley, keeping a firm grip on her arm. He forcefully slapped his combadge and ground out, "Chakotay to Voyager, five to beam up."

Chakotay let go of her as soon as the transport was complete, and stepped back, coming directly to attention. The junior officers froze, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. Kathryn ripped the hood off her head and stared at him, too angry to speak. His eyes were still blazing, and she could see the muscle in his jaw working in fury.

"Commander," she hissed, and Ensign White and the transporter operator both flinched. "My ready room. Now."

She marched off the pads and out of the transporter room, knowing that he was right behind her.

In the turbolift, Chakotay stared straight ahead, ignoring the fact that Kathryn was staring straight at him. The 'lift was absolutely silent – Tom and Harry had wisely decided to wait for the next 'lift. When the doors opened, her head snapped to the front, and she stalked out and to her ready room, with him again on her heels.

The doors closed behind them and she glared at him, daring him to speak. He continued to stand at attention, staring at a point above her head.

"Who the hell–"

"Why did you take your damn hood off?!" he spat, and she knew, without a doubt, that he'd been waiting for her to speak so that he could cut her off. It only made her angrier.

"That is not the damn issue here! The issue here is that you compounded an already delicate situation when you decided to act like an insubordinate neanderthal–"

He wasn't even listening – wasn't even pretending to listen. He stalked to her desk and shuffled through the padds littering the surface, flinging the ones he didn't want onto the floor. When he turned back around, she was silent, openly staring in rage and confusion at his insubordination. A tiny, rational part of her brain screamed, What the hell is going on here?! This isn't like Chakotay! He brandished a padd at her.

"Did you even read this, Captain?!"

"What?!"

"This! Did you read it? Any of it?!"

"What the hell is it?!"

He shoved it at her and she grabbed it, fighting down the urge to slap him. "The cultural information on the planet?! What the hell does–"

"Do you know who those women were without hoods, Kathryn? They were prostitutes. Whores. Which is exactly what that bastard called you. And you know what?! You gave him that idea when you took off your damn hood!"

He was shouting now. "And do you know what would have happened if I hadn't shown up? He would have hit you. And you, being you, would have fought back, and do you know what would have happened then? He would have had you arrested, and do you think Ensign White could have stopped that, because I don't think so! And do you know what would have happened next? They would have punished you – no fair trials on this planet, especially not for women. Do you know what the punishment would have been? Let me read it to you – no, let me tell you, because I memorized them, because I just knew something like this was going to happen! The punishment for a female who raises her voice in anger to a male – which you did – is loss of the offending tongue. The punishment for a female who raises her hand in anger to a male is loss of the offending hand – or, if the circumstances are harsh enough – which I'm sure they would have been, knowing you – the punishment is death. Death, Kathryn. They would have killed you, beheaded you on the spot, before you could even proclaim your identity. And all because you're the damn captain and you have to prove to everyone that you can do everything, that you don't need anyone's support or help. So yes, you are alive to throw me in the brig for insubordination. Just be thankful that you still have the tongue and the hands to do it with."

And he stormed out, leaving her to stare at the padd she was clutching with both hands.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay sat on the bridge in his chair, spine perfectly straight, hands curled into fists and chest heaving. The bridge crew had gone silent when he'd emerged from the ready room, realizing now was not the time to interrupt the commander's thoughts, and in the quiet, the grinding of his teeth was audible to everyone.

"Janeway to Chakotay. Please report to my ready room, Commander."

The first officer stood without a word and headed for the ready room door. When he was safely inside, Tom and Harry shared a troubled glance. Chakotay was furious, but the captain... the captain sounded shaken. Shaken was a very good word for it. Janeway had sounded as if the ground had suddenly shifted beneath her feet and left her unsure of her footing. It was very disconcerting to hear.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay entered the ready room without looking for its occupant. He stared straight ahead at the wall above the captain's desk, at parade rest with his hands behind his back.

"Commander Chakotay reporting as ordered, Captain," he snapped out.

"Chakotay... please..." Her soft, shaky voice came from the direction of the couch. His gaze slid in that direction, and though he was shocked by what he saw, he didn't move a muscle.

Kathryn was slumped on the couch, padd in hands, staring at the deck. She glanced up, and she looked more dejected and confused than he had ever seen her. The robes she was wearing swamped her, making her appear even smaller and more vulnerable.

"Chakotay, if I have to order you to sit down, this conversation is over before it's even begun."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you, Kathryn? Right now, I am so angry–"

"I know. I know you are. Please... I just... how did this happen, Chakotay?" she asked, and he was stunned to see a tear roll down her cheek. "How did I get so hard? How did I get so... stupid, so ready to alienate everyone and... and die before I admit that I need help?"

Chakotay's hands were curled into fists behind his back, his nails biting into his palms. His stomach roiled in anger even as his heart ached at seeing her like this. The impulse to march from the room and leave her to live or die or do whatever the hell she wanted warred with his need to take her in his arms and soothe her pain away, and he remained where he was, rooted to the deck. The silence in the room stretched out for several minutes longer, straining the tension to a breaking point.

"Dismissed..."

Her whisper, so broken and confused, finally snapped Chakotay out of it. He'd been silently beating at the walls of protocol and parameters for so long, spent so many years trying to tell her that it was okay to need help, okay to ask for help, and now that she was asking, he was going to ignore her? He all but sprinted across the room, crouching at her side, struggling against the need to sweep her into his arms and fight all her battles for her.

"I don't know," he murmured, clenching his fists to keep from taking her hands. "I really don't know when and how this happened. I don't think there's any point where you can say 'here I was Kathryn and after that, I was just The Captain.' I think it's been building in you since the day you were stranded here. And I've tried to keep it from happening, Kathryn. I've tried every way I know how–"

"But I wouldn't let you," she interrupted, staring at her hands.

"No. No, you wouldn't let me – you wouldn't let anybody. Do you know what conclusion I've come to lately, in my meetings with our crew?" He paused, waiting for her to make eye contact with him, and when she did, warily, he continued. "This crew wants to get home – but not for the reason you think," he finished quickly, but not quickly enough, for she still looked away. Taking a chance, he lifted her chin with his finger, forcing her to look at him. Tears shimmered in her eyes once again, and he took a deep breath.

"Sure, they miss their families and their friends, and pretty much everyone wants to do something different with their lives when they get there, but they want to get home for you, Kathryn. They don't want to disappoint you; they don't want to let you down. You've become so convinced that the crew hates you for stranding them here that you don't bother to see them, to see us anymore. You're living for them, they're living for their captain, and nobody's taking care of Kathryn."

She stared at him wide eyed, and he kept going. "You can do this, Kathryn – you can get us home. Hell, you could probably even do it alone if you really, really tried. But do you really want to become the person you're becoming?"

Kathryn didn't answer, and he worried that he'd pushed too hard. She'd seemed to be ready to hear him, but if he wasn't careful, she would withdraw again, and he would lose every inch of ground he'd gained and then some. She took a deep breath, and then she raised her head, staring into his eyes. Her eyes, so like a storm swept sea, were filled with the determination and the resolve with which she faced down countless adversaries, but Chakotay knew her, and he could see the vulnerability flickering within those blue-gray pools.

"No, I don't. I don't want to be that person – this person. Will you help me, Chakotay?"

A weight lifted from him, and he slowly let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Always."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Some Years Later

Kathryn glanced down, surprised to see that she was at the end of her notes. The lecture had gone slightly quicker than she'd expected it would.

"Well," she said, quirking a grin at the class. "That appears to be all I have to say on the subject. Are there any questions?"

A cadet in the first row raised his hand, and she took a few seconds to assess him before she acknowledged his question. He was young, so impossibly young, ebony hair shining, pink cheeks smooth and unmarred, uniform freshly pressed and body radiating eagerness. He reminded her so much of a young man she'd met so long ago that for a moment, her heart ached with the memory. Finally, she nodded.

"Yes, Cadet?"

The cadet beamed, but before he could begin his question, the door at the back of the classroom slid quietly open and a man stepped in. The cadets at the back of the room – and a few at the front – eyed the distraction with curiosity, and perhaps a bit of irritation.

Tall, but not overly so, the man had raven black hair, liberally streaked with silver, swept back from his forehead, which bore an elegant and somewhat abstract indigo tattoo. He wore an impeccably pressed Starfleet uniform with a captain's rank insignia, and though he didn't come far into the room, he moved with power and grace. He came to rest by the back wall, crossing his hands before him, and the classroom's light flashed off the ring on his left hand, the only adornment – other than the tattoo – that he sported.

Kathryn glanced up at him, suppressing a smile as his casual pose vanished and he snapped to attention. She waved away his posture with one hand, the light flashing off of the band on her own hand. The few cadets who had been resisting gave in and craned their necks to see who had caught her attention.

"Captain," she said mildly, arching one eyebrow.

"Admiral," he intoned solemnly, a smile flitting briefly over his handsome features before being banished behind his calm demeanor once more. "I beg your pardon for interrupting your lecture," he added, settling back into an at ease position. He turned his head slightly, nodding in familiarity and acknowledgment at the somber Vulcan who stood across from him, also at the back of the room. His nod was returned, and both men straightened to watch Kathryn once again.

Her answering smile was just as brief. "Not at all. I think we're just about done here." Her gaze swept over the class and focused sharply on the eager cadet at the front. "I believe you had a question, Cadet?"

He was flustered by the disruption and her suddenly returned attention. "I... uh... that is... you mentioned several times, ma'am, how isolating the experience of command can be. I was wondering what advice you might have to minimize the detrimental effects of such isolation."

Kathryn fought to hide her amusement at the intensity of his question. This boy was years – perhaps decades – from his own command, and yet he asked the question as if he might be facing the problem tomorrow. She smiled at him, hoping it came across as warm, and not condescending.

"There are times in every captain's command when he or she is suddenly cut off from the familiarity and the orderliness of home. Most of the time – nearly all of the time – it's simply a temporary communications problem. There is the rare, but not impossible, prospect that the situation could be permanent, though I hope with everything in me that none of you will ever find yourselves in that situation. Suddenly finding oneself alone is a... frightening experience, to say the least.

"I could stand here and tell you that the important things to do in a situation like that are to maintain a routine, stick to the protocols, and run your ship as if nothing unusual were occurring – and it's true, all of that is essential. A captain must be in control of his or her ship at all times, and much of that control comes from the belief that that control exists. However, being in control does not mean being alone. Captaining a ship is not – and should not be – a democracy, but stability is necessary, and life and the day-to-day operation of your ship are only as stable as your relationships and interactions with the people around you."

Kathryn realized that her statement had gotten slightly preachier than intended, so she broke off, smiling warmly and trying to catch the gaze of each cadet.

"I guess, Cadet, the most important thing you can do to make sure that kind of isolation never happens is to remember that there is a reason Starfleet gives you a first officer and a senior staff. Never neglect your support structure. They can become your closest allies... and friends," she finished, smiling at both of the men who stood at the back of the room. She nodded once, definitively.

"All right. That concludes this class session. I'd like to thank Captain Tuvok for inviting me to speak to you all, and I wish you good luck in your future with Starfleet. I'm sure you'll all do very well."

The cadets sat silently for a moment as she made her way to the back of the room, but the spell of her presence and her words was soon broken, and the classroom was filled with the buzz of students gathering their belongings. A few watched the admiral and the captain as he met her by the door and led her through it, gallantly placing one hand on the small of her back to guide her. Only those closest to the door and those with excellent hearing heard the exchange between them.

"Good advice, Kathryn."

"You think so? It only took me... oh, several decades to learn it. Do you think they'll catch on sooner?" she asked slyly, and at his chuckle, she added, "Let's go home, Chakotay."