SUMMARY: After Chakotay hurts Seska's feelings, can any revenge be
enough?

CODES: VOY, C/Se, 1/1, SNW Reject, somewhere between a PG and an R


Killing Him Softly, by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)


The question was, how should she kill him?

Get that Neelix creature out of the way, then deep fry Chakotay in
a vat of oil and serve him as an entree?

Throw him bodily into the warp core?

Perhaps a drugged session of sex -- not that that had been very
satisfying the first time -- followed by a vivisection and then a
late night snack?

None of those options sounded very attractive, but Seska knew she
had to choose one of them, or find something else better.  After
all, what else was a rational, mature person who was obsessed with
thoughts of revenge supposed to do?

The ideal situation would be to have the man unmasked as a liar,
philanderer and a cheat, while at the same time, having him falling
madly, wildly and nakedly in bed with her.  But she didn't see that
happening any time soon.

The trouble was, while her instructors had been very thorough in
her education vis-a-vis explosives, spying, lurking, treachery and
exotic poisons, they had not been terribly forthcoming on the
subject of sexual revenge.  Oh, they had went over such things as
luring susceptible targets into indiscretion, but they had never
outlined what to do other than murder when it came to resistant
targets.

And she didn't want to kill Chakotay.

At least, not yet.  Seska brooded over her fruit juice.  The
situation had been ongoing for some time.  However, last night, she
had decided to take matters into her own hands, or rather, to take
certain parts of Chakotay into her own hands.

Last night, using a fraction of her vast training, she had queried
the computer on Chakotay's whereabouts, and found that he was in
his cabin.

She had gone to his door, and been admitted.

Her hands tightened on her glass as she remembered what had
happened next.

"I thought we could... talk," she'd said in her most seductive
voice.  Surely anyone but an idiot would get that hint.

"Come in.  My door is always open."

"Thank you," she purred, pacing over to him where he was standing
next to the couch.  Such a polite man he was.  She liked that
quality in him.  'Yes, ma'am' and 'no, ma'am' would sound good
coming from his lips, particularly if those lips were pressed to
her boots at the same time.

She took a seat on the couch and waited for him to sit down next to
her.  When he did, she moved closer to him, subtly invading his
personal space and staking her claim.

"What is this about?" Chakotay asked.

"Oh, I'm sure you know," she replied, moving her hand to his thigh. 
"We could think of *some*thing to... talk about."

He stayed right where he was, which gave her a triumphant rush of
satisfaction.  Silence was acquiescence.  She had him now.  He was
hers!

And then there came that damned voice.

"Janeway to Chakotay."

"Chakotay here, Captain."

"I thought we were meeting in my cabin.  To discuss my... spirit
animal."

Seska was certain that she heard something else in the captain's
voice.  That 'spirit animal' was a substitution for what Janeway
*really* wanted to say.

She growled deep in her throat, remembering what had happened next. 
Chakotay had agreed to meet with the captain, and then been up off
that couch like nothing had ever happened.  As though he didn't
know that sitting like that with her, allowing her to drape herself
over him was an implicit promise.

He had hurried her out of his quarters, on his way to see his
beloved captain -- who wasn't even one of the Maquis! -- and Seska
still could not forget what he'd said to her:

"I'm sorry.  I have to go.  I don't know what you wanted..."

"I had expected to..."

He had interrupted her, keeping her from giving him a seductive
pout and telling him that she had expected to get *him*, and then
said the words that had sealed his fate, "Whatever you expected was
your own business.  I don't know what you want, but your
expectations are your own responsibility.  You can't project them
onto me and expect me to respond."

"But you..."

"You are accountable for your actions.  Don't try to blame other
people for the consequences of what you do."

And then he was gone.  Off to commune with his precious captain.

Seska clenched her hands tighter around the juice glass.  That
prancing buffoon!  That oafish lout!  That self-righteous, pompous
ass!  She wanted to kill him!  She wanted to force him to come to
her on his hands and knees begging for mercy, and *then* she wanted
to kill him.

Did he even know what he was saying?  One of her own people would
have precisely calculated every word to cut, as she would have if
she had been in his situation.  Had he known exactly how to strike
in order to bruise her well-armored ego?

The answer was yes, she decided.  It didn't matter if the truth
ended up to be that the answer was no.  She wanted to kill him and
therefore he was guilty.  That was that.

So the question was still, how should she kill him?

Blind him by plucking out his eyeballs, and then flay his skin off
with a whip?  That was so dated, so 13th century Earth, but the
crudeness of the method retained a certain sort of appeal.

Her fruit juice warmed to the temperature of the dining hall as she
contemplated the possibilities.  And then the object of her
vengeful fantasies entered the room.

Chakotay walked over to her.

Seska watched him, eyes narrowed.

"May I sit down?" he asked.

She shrugged.  "I can't stop you."

He had a pained expression on his face.  "I wanted to apologize. 
What I said last night... was overly harsh.  Will you forgive me?"

The words were precisely what she wanted to hear.  She smiled
sweetly at him.  "Of course, I forgive you."

But they didn't make up for the others he had spoken, etching
patterns of acid into her emotions.  She had been genuinely
enthralled with this fool, and he had rejected her.  No amount of
apology could retrieve that.

She would see him on his knees yet, begging her for mercy.  And
there would be none.  Not a smidgen, not any.  And she would enjoy
every bit of it.

They ate lunch together, chatting companionably.  And every time
Seska looked at Chakotay, she thought of him naked and on a leash,
with a gag in his mouth.

And smiled.


-the end-