Title: The Big Chair
Author: Ky (venom69)
Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager
Rating: Age Friendly
Summary: Harry has nightshift again.
Character/Pairing: Janeway/Chakotay
Spoilers: None… the show’s ended!
Warnings: None, really.
Prompt Number for fic101: 25 - Chair
Author’s Notes: Song belongs to Billy Joel
Disclaimer: Usual guff. Not mine, promise to put them back where I found them.
Date: 15/01/07

***

I don’t care what you say anymore
This is my life

***

A few nights a week, I sit in the Big Chair.

At first, I had been in awe of it and the woman that called it Hers.

She is the mother of this crew, almost a second mother to me, so far from my own. There is nothing that she will not do for this crew and there is not a person onboard that doesn’t know it. She is the Captain and she deserves our respect.

Her presence alone still scares some of the junior officers and I counted myself among that group, at first. Over the years we, I, have seen the woman emerge from beneath the command mask. She has grown with us, for us, because of us.

The Captain is everything to us.

And the Captain’s Chair is a big deal.

It commands respect, it holds authority.

I almost expect it to speak to me as I sink slowly into it. The Captains Chair is not the most comfortable chair I have ever sat on, but there is something about it… something inside of the fabric that changes me. I wonder if it is as simple as sharing the same seat as a great woman, or if it is something more than that.

I feel powerful as I sit with my arms along the armrests. I feel compelled to lead, compelled to serve those that surround me.

Tom calls me crazy for speaking of it in this way. “It’s just a chair, buddy.” He says, with an amused twinkle in his eye and a shake of his head. He pats my back in a condescending, but affectioate, way.

“It’s more than that.” I reply, awe still racing through my veins at the mere thought.

It is more than that.

I cannot explain the way that I feel as I sit, perched in the Big Chair, so I no longer try. They will get their turn and they will see, they will see that it is more than just a chair that is sat in on a daily basis. It is more than just the dais from which our Captain leads us.

I look to my left, staring at the empty chair beside me.

There is no acting First Officer on the nightshift, there is seldom any need. If a problem arises that we cannot handle, we call a senior officer. We know what to do; we have done this many times before. There are three of us regulars on the bridge tonight, but people will come and go at all hours. Reports being filed, questions asked, status reports offered.

The true beauty of a Starship, nothing ever really sleeps.

While there is no night, there is no day.

Time, truly, is what we make of it.

The Ready Room doors open and I automatically jump to my feet. It was quiet in there; I had expected that the room was empty.

While I am, technically, free to use the room while on the nightshift, I choose to leave the Captain’s sanctuary alone. It is her private space. She and the Commander often have lunch or, sometimes, dinner in there.

Speculation floats across the ship at warp speed; people wonder what they really do in there, but I choose to remain oblivious.

The Captain waves my formality away. “At ease, Ensign.”

“Have a good night Ma’am, Sir.” I nod to them as they move to the turbolift.

Mom and Dad are off for the night, retiring to his, her, their, quarters and I am left in the Big Chair, watching the stars on the view screen and awaiting their return.

The Big Chair calls to me and I sit once more, a small smile on my face as eight hours of this feeling lay ahead of me.

***

End