STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT Title: Strangers in the Night, 1/1 Author: Jaye (Copyright June 2004) Codes: VOY C/Seska NC-17 Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property of Paramount. No infringement is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, language, and sex. If you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it. Archive: Not without permission, so please ask first. Okay for Trekiverse and Chakotay!Fest. Please keep the text (especially the disclaimer) intact. Feedback: Yes, please, especially suggestions for improvement. E-mail is reader8901@fastmail.fm Summary: Chakotay recalls his first meeting with Seska. Note: Starts at the end of "Basics II". Flashback set before the events of Voyager. *************** Chakotay stared down at Seska's face, so still in death. The face of his enemy. Not his one-time lover. His eyes narrowed as his gaze roamed the Cardassian-gray skin, trying to peer past the eye and brow ridges to glimpse some shadow of the Bajoran who had shared her bed---and claimed a corner of his battered heart---once upon a time. ************************************************************ ************************************************************ Exhaustion coated him in gray and weighed him down like another layer of travel dust. Chakotay had, in the last month, learned of the Cardassian attack on Trebus, staggered under the shock of his father's death, lashed out at Federation indifference and Starfleet apathy, resigned in bitterness, met an old friend who persuaded him to join the Maquis, and traveled to the DMZ to take up his new duties as a warrior in that hopeless cause. His Starfleet training earmarked him for leadership of a cell. The ship was being refitted somewhere on a secret base; the crew scattered on brief shoreleaves. He would be introduced to both the vessel and its occupants after he met his new Maquis contact tomorrow. His brain was still swimming with the preliminary reports he'd memorized before the data was wiped and the padd destroyed. Supplies, armaments, targets, tactics, all were burdens he would take up far too soon. At the moment, he truly didn't care. All he wanted was to find a place to crash into the oblivion of sleep. But that was the tricky part. He didn't want to go to a hotel; he had ditched two Starfleet tails on his way to Bajor, and didn't want to pick up another one anytime soon. That didn't leave him too many options. Sleeping outdoors, or finding a friendly native willing to take in a stranger and look the other way. Unfortunately, he hadn't had any luck finding one so far, and night was falling. He half-stumbled into a dimly-lit pub in a seedier part of town. He was getting desperate, knowing that he wasn't going to last too much longer. He made his way over to the bar, sliding onto a stool and leaning his elbows heavily on the scarred surface. "Tea, and whatever the kitchen's still serving, please." The bartender just grunted at him, taking in his travel- wrinkled clothes, small pack and dispirited air. "Be a few minutes." "All right," Chakotay said. As the man turned away---probably to find some water to boil---Chakotay rubbed his palms down his face, as if the scouring motion could rub away his weariness. "You look like---what's the human expression, something the cat dragged in? I'm not exactly sure what a cat is, but it did quite a job on you before tossing you in this dump." Chakotay looked up to see a Bajoran woman with features as sharp as her tongue leaning on the bar beside him. Brown hair shading to auburn, small but strong-looking frame clothed in dark rugged garments. His critic was a handsome woman rather than a pretty one, but something about her blend of aggression and confidence held the eye. She fairly vibrated with energy. "I dragged myself in, thanks, and don't worry, I'll drag myself out again soon enough," Chakotay muttered as he dropped his hands, wanting only to be left in peace. The woman eyed him a few minutes, then plopped herself on the stool next to his. "Bad day, huh?" "Bad month," Chakotay said with a shrug. The bartender set a ceramic mug in front of him and a glass of pale amber liquid in front of the woman. Chakotay wrapped his hands around his cup, staring into its murky depths. He wasn't sure he was going to drink the dubious liquid, but for now he took comfort in its warmth. "You're not from around here," the woman said matter-of- factly. He just grunted noncommittally. Relatively speaking, Trebus wasn't all that far from Bajor. Of course, it wasn't like he could go there, with the smoking craters where his village had stood and Cardassian troops stomping through the ashes. The return of the bartender with a bowl of stew---or the dregs of the day's soup---drew his attention from his morbid thoughts. He reluctantly set the cup aside, and seconds later was wolfing down his first---and only---meal of the day. "You really are in bad shape," the woman commented dryly. Chakotay wondered if she often amused herself with stating the obvious. He finished his meal and set the bowl aside, then shifted to face her. He decided to call her bluff. "Yeah. What are you planning to do about it?" "I have a few ideas." She stood, then turned back to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Well, are you coming?" He slowly got to his feet, tossed some money on the counter and shouldered his pack. When they reached the door he stopped again, eyes narrowing. "Have you got anyplace better to go?" she asked pointedly. Then she exited, not looking behind her. He just shook his head and followed. *************** The building they entered was old and decrepit but scrupulously clean. When he crossed the threshold into a small studio apartment, he could see she either had just moved in or was on the verge of moving out. There were no personal items adorning the walls or threadbare furniture, and the place had an abandoned air. "Shower's through there. Use it." The woman then ignored him as he made his way to the tiny bathroom. He hardly felt the sonics, and though he knew they did the job, he didn't feel any cleaner when they were done. He stepped out of the shower cabinet and stopped short. His bag and the clothes he'd dropped into a pile on the floor were gone. The bathroom was completely empty. Furious with himself for being so gullible, he charged naked into the main room. Only to find his back slammed into the wall and an equally naked woman in his arms. She ground her hips against his, her head lowered to bite at his neck and shoulders. He was aroused instantly, anger and desire a dangerous elixir surging through his veins. He grabbed her arms and flipped their positions, hearing her grunt as *her* back hit the wall. Chakotay didn't care. He dove to suck and bite at her breasts, feeling her fingers yank at his hair to pull him to her as she thrust her torso at him. He gripped her hips and jerked her against his straining cock, their bodies mashed together. She humped against him, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip. He shifted his hold to her outer thighs, hauling her upward, pulling her legs apart. He bent his knees and thrust, cock plunging into her hot core. She yanked his head back and sank her teeth into the top of his shoulder. He pounded into her ruthlessly, some dim part of his mind relieved that she was still giving as good as she got, that this brutal fucking was at least consensual. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his belongings carelessly tossed in a corner of the room. So she planned it this way. Well, she was damn well going to get it. He kept thrusting, pushing her into the wall, even as she screamed in release and her sheath clenched tight around him. Even when she slumped against his body. He pressed a knee against the cool plaster, supporting one of her thighs on his, never breaking his rhythm. He reached between them and pulled at her nipples, twisting and teasing, hearing her moans of mingled pleasure and pain. Then he slid his hand lower, to where they were still joined. He found her clit, rubbing the bud between his fingertips. She jerked in his arms as her own tightened around him. She was soon meeting his thrusts once more. They were both grunting and panting, their teeth bared as they locked gazes. Chakotay lost track of how long they stayed like that, fucking each other against the wall. He waited until he felt her cunt grip his cock once more, then he finally let go, his cum filling her, the excess dripping down her thighs. They barely made it to the bed. He started awake, deep in the night, shaking from a nightmare filled with the whine of phasers and the screams of children, his vision still bloody with images of fire and death. An arm was wrapped around his chest, a leg nestled between his. The woman whose bed he shared was fast asleep. In the low light of the room he studied her quiescent features. She seemed younger, softer, defenses down. He reached out to smooth tumbled hair from her face. Her eyes opened, silently regarding him. "You're beautiful," he whispered as he leaned forward to softly kiss her. And she was, warm and vibrant and alive. She seemed to hesitate a moment, then opened her lips to him. He was as gentle as he could be, slowly exploring her mouth, his hands caressing her skin. Tender where before he was rough. Wrapped in a strange midnight mood, Chakotay pulled away the sheet to bare her to his gaze. He could see already see the bruises forming on her pale flesh. He kissed each mark carefully, soothed them with his tongue. She watched him silently, a wary expression on her face that shifted by increments to wonder. As he traveled along her skin with hands and lips, he brought her back to arousal slowly, with no thought beyond making amends, of offering pleasure in the place of the pain he'd dealt her in his frenzy. They never said a word. She sighed, and moaned, and sobbed quietly as his mouth and hands brought her over the peak. Afterward, he lay beside her as she recovered, one hand smoothing her skin in long strokes down her side. Her eyes sought his as she picked up that hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. Then she rolled over and spooned against him. He wrapped an arm around her, and listened to her even breaths until he too fell back to sleep. *************** When Chakotay woke again he was alone. He dressed and began his deliberately haphazard journey through town to the rendezvous point. Soon enough he was touring a battered Maquis raider, meeting the crew scattered about its few decks finishing pre-launch checks. In engineering, he stopped in shock when he saw a very familiar face. His companion of the night before was suddenly standing before him, her hand outstretched. "Seska...engineering and weapons stations." Chakotay automatically shook hands, his mind reeling. Images from the night before clashed with the still-burned-in-his- memory Starfleet protocols about relationships that were suddenly streaming through his brain, along with a growing list of complications of trying to have a personal life in the middle of a war. And yet, the hand in his was warm and alive. And he so desperately wanted to feel that way again. ************************************************************ ************************************************************ The relationship hadn't lasted. It couldn't; back then he'd lost so much of himself to grief and anger and duty that he felt he had too little left to offer anyone else. At the time of the break-up, Seska's protests had gradually faded to silence as she realized he was too battle-weary to even spare enough energy to argue with her. At least, he'd always thought so. Until Seska had revealed her true nature, and agenda. Ever since that painful day he'd wondered if she'd truly been sorry they parted, or if it was just another part of her act; wondered if she'd felt anything for him all. He'd never know. Truly, he didn't want to. Someday he hoped that he could get past the blows she'd dealt to his trust, his beliefs, his confidence in himself. And that he could remember Seska truly, as both Bajoran and Cardassian, the good and the bad, the soft and the sharp, the true and the false. But for now, all he was able to do was silently say good-bye. THE END