Curtains, Confessions, and Crewmember Cupids
By Ralkana

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

Chakotay strode through the doors into the familiar environment of Sandrine’s and stopped short as he heard the laughter and revelry within.

Why did I want to come here? he asked himself, feeling his heart twist at the sounds of happiness that surrounded him. Oh, yes, to get drunk. Horribly drunk. Wasted, he thought, and then frowned at the influence Tom Paris was having on his vocabulary. At this point in time, he didn’t want Paris influencing anything in his life.

He marched over to an empty corner booth and sat, signaling to Sandrine when he caught her eye. He debated drawing the privacy curtains, as the people in the booth next to him had, but decided to leave them open. The curtains were a unique invention of Tom’s. They allowed the occupants of a booth to have relative privacy in a public place; they weren’t electric forcefields or anything, but the crew knew that when the curtains were drawn, whoever was in the booth was not to be disturbed. Tonight, though, he needed to be surrounded by people, no matter what mood he was in. He needed to know that there was life going on around him, needed not to feel so isolated from everyone. He figured the thunderclouds in his face would be enough to keep people away.

B’Elanna Torres drew her eyes away from her husband’s pool game and watched in shock as Sandrine brought her friend—who normally didn’t drink anything stronger than a glass or two of wine with dinner—a shot glass and a very full bottle of something that looked a hell of a lot stronger than wine. She was even more surprised when Chakotay knocked back three shots in very quick succession. He was working on a fourth when she sat down across from him. He didn’t react to her presence other than heaving an annoyed sigh and tossing back his drink.

“Care to talk about it?” she asked quietly, seeing the despair in the way he was holding himself. He shook his head without speaking, but she could see his hands trembling as he lifted the bottle again. She instantly decided that these matchmaking attempts of her husband’s would have to stop. They were hurting Chakotay far more than she had thought; she hadn’t seen his pain because after each unsuccessful attempt, he’d hidden himself in his quarters until the next day. This was the first time she had seen him so soon after one, and she was disturbed by his appearance and by the way he was drinking.

“Chakotay…” she began, but she didn’t really know what to say to him.

From the corner of her eye, she saw her husband approaching, a grin on his face. Not now, Tom! she wanted to scream, but she settled for trying to warn him away with a glare. It didn’t work. He came up and slapped Chakotay on the shoulder, and B’Elanna was alarmed again by the way the older man stiffened at the contact. If he kept drinking while he was obviously still this upset, he was likely to start using his fists soon, and that would be bad for everybody involved.

“Hey big guy! How was your day?”

“I was stuck in a turbolift for four hours, Tom. How do you think it was?” the first officer asked quietly, knocking back another drink.

“Yeah, but… at least you weren’t alone!” Tom said with a wink that was utterly wasted on Chakotay, who was staring morosely into his empty glass. Suddenly he slammed the glass down on the table, drawing the attention of all those around them. Tom involuntarily took a half step back.

“Do you have any idea what torture it is, Paris?” he asked softly, without looking up. Though he didn’t raise his voice—he never did, never had to—he instantly had the attention of everyone in earshot. Sandrine’s grew very quiet.

“Do you know what it’s like to be trapped for four hours—four hours!—with the woman you love, knowing she would rather be anywhere—anywhere!—than there with you? Anywhere but with you as you fall all over yourself trying not to look pathetic and lovesick. Know what it’s like to watch her move as far away from you as possible, cringing back into the bulkhead, as if you’re some revolting… thing she can’t bear to touch? Do you know what it’s like to watch her cross her arms over her chest, try to protect her body as if you’re some animal who’s going to maul her? Do you know what it’s like to listen to her chatter on about ship’s systems and inconsequential things, all the while staring at the floor, because she can’t bear to look at you or have a serious conversation with you? To hear her heave an enormous sigh of relief when the ‘lift starts moving again? Do you know what it’s like to have to sit there and chat along as if everything’s okay, to pretend that your heart isn’t breaking with all of this even while your spirit sings at her nearness? Do you?”

Tom said nothing and the older man laughed harshly and shook his head.

“You don’t. Well, I do, thanks to you. I get to experience all of those feelings on a fairly regular basis! In the turbolift, in the holodeck, in her ready room… hell, in her quarters! It’s like being repeatedly kicked in the stomach! Do I have to beat it into your thick skull that she. Doesn’t. Love me. She. Doesn’t. Want me! That’s been made painfully clear to me, all thanks to your cute little stunts! So maybe I should thank you for it, for helping me get rid of that particular delusion! But perhaps you’ll forgive me if I’m not in a very grateful mood this evening.”

He stood, and only then did he look at B’Elanna. The anguish in her old friend’s dark eyes rocked her to her very core.

“Why don’t you just rip out my heart and stomp on it, B’Ela? It would be faster, and probably much less painful. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to my quarters, where I can get very, very drunk without any further interruptions.” He grabbed the bottle of replicated alcohol and stormed out, scattering crewmembers in his wake. From the unsteadiness of his gait, it was apparent that he was already well on his way to his evening’s goal.

The uneasy silence continued for several moments after Chakotay’s departure. Everyone stared at each other, not wanting to be the first to speak. B’Elanna finally broke the silence with a soft murmur.

“Oh, Chakotay… I’m sorry.”

Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulder, hugging her to him. With a sigh, he said firmly, “No more, B’E. No more stupid attempts. God, he has a hard enough life loving her; he doesn’t need any help from us to make it worse.”

There was a muffled sob from the curtained table next to them. Tom and B'Elanna looked at each other in horror and several people around them gasped. They recognized that voice, even if they had never heard it sob before. The couple noticed other crewmembers quickly backing away from them, going back to their own activities as if nothing had happened. The curtains were thrown back and the captain dashed out of Sandrine’s before anyone could stop her or even speak to her.

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

Kathryn paced the turbolift in tight circles, stopping before she could make herself dizzy. While she hadn’t had as much to drink as she knew Chakotay had, she knew she wasn’t 100% sober, either. She had been sitting in her curtained-off booth in Sandrine’s for quite a long time—she had been the one to activate the program, actually. She had sat there for hours, listening to the crew gossip hopefully about their latest matchmaking attempt, but she had been unable to let herself get as drunk as she wanted to. The Captain wouldn’t let Kathryn go for even that long.

She walked slowly down the corridor toward her quarters, lost in thought, barely acknowledging the crew around her as she thought of what had happened while she was indulging in her little pity party. Through the curtains at one side, she had heard B’Elanna try to engage someone in quiet conversation, and she had known instantly that it was Chakotay. Mortified at how close he was—again—she had been on the verge of ordering a site-to-site to her quarters when she had stopped herself. He didn’t know she was there, and as long as she kept quiet, he wouldn’t know. Then Tom had shown up and Chakotay had begun to speak. Kathryn sat with a fist in her mouth, listening to him pour out his heart. Though his speech wasn’t slurred, it was more intense than she had ever heard it, and that—combined of course with the fact that he was saying things he never would have said when he was sober—convinced her that he was more drunk than he let on.

All of that—his words and his actions—hurt her dreadfully, as they led her to realize that she was the one causing so much pain to such a proud, private man. But what hurt her most was Tom’s comment after Chakotay’s exit, said in a voice full of pity and remorse. He had made it sound as if loving her was some terrible curse, an iron weight around Chakotay’s neck forever. And, she had thought, maybe it was at that.

She had nearly broken down then, sobbing once, horrified when she heard the gasps that followed. Too shaken to order a site-to-site—which was how she had originally planned to get out of Sandrine’s—she had dashed from the holodeck, ignoring everyone around her. Now, she stood just inside her quarters trying to catch her breath and swiping angrily at the tears that kept falling.

After several moments, she took one more deep breath, squared her shoulders, and ventured back out into the corridor. She was aware that she probably looked awful, but she didn’t care, and after all, she didn’t have all that far to go to get to his quarters. She needed to talk to him.

She rang his door chime three times with no response. She was debating overriding his lock when she realized that she had never seen Chakotay when he had been seriously drinking, and she didn’t know how he would act. More specifically, she didn’t know how he would react to what he might consider an intruder in his quarters. She tapped her combadge.

“Janeway to Chakotay.”

When there was no response, she tapped it a second time, ringing the door chime again for good measure.

“Janeway to Chakotay. Chakotay, it’s Kathryn. Let me in, please.”

There was no response other than what sounded like an aggravated growl. The door slid open. It was dark inside. She saw him sitting on the couch, slightly slumped, empty glass in hand. He looked dreadful.

“Oh, Chakotay…”

“What do you want, Kathryn?”

“I… I heard everything. I was in Sandrine’s.”

He slumped down even further, muttering a string of curses. Then he poured himself another shot, sloshing it on the table. He knocked it back, still without looking up to where she hovered right inside his quarters. She was dismayed to see that the bottle was nearly empty. She couldn’t talk to him tonight; she had no idea what he would remember tomorrow.

“Chakotay,” she ventured. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink for tonight?” He glared at her, but his normally piercing eyes were unfocused. “You’re going to have a hell of a headache tomorrow. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

He snorted at her remark and then shrugged—or tried to. “Good. If my head hurts then maybe my heart won’t,” he said, somewhat indistinctly, and she closed her eyes at the bitterness in his voice. She made her way over to him, shocked by the overpowering smell of alcohol. Whatever he was drinking was damn strong!

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You’re going to be in an even worse mood if you fall asleep on that couch,” she said, taking the glass from his hand and setting it on the table. She tugged at his arm and he rose unsteadily to his feet, swaying and nearly knocking her over before draping a heavy arm around her shoulders.

“Now she wants to take me to bed,” he muttered as they staggered into the bedroom, and she just gritted her teeth and ignored him, concentrating on getting him to bed without sending both of them to the deck. “The bottle was empty anyway,” he added, and now his speech was slurred. He flopped onto the neatly made bed, and she knelt to pull off his boots. She was pretty sure he was going to have a miserable hangover no matter what, but she could at least make him as comfortable as possible. Standing up, she reached over and removed his rank bar and combadge so they wouldn’t scratch him, placing them on the bedside table so he could find them in the morning. His eyes were closed and she was pretty sure he’d already passed out.

“The rest you’re on your own for, Mister,” she said, trying to imagine what he would do if he woke up on his made bed with a hangover, in only his t-shirt and shorts and no memory of how he’d gotten there. Besides, his body was dead weight now; she didn’t think she could move him enough to get his uniform off. In a rush of tenderness, she swept the dark, rumpled locks of hair off of his forehead, fingertips lingering over the elegant lines on his temple. She sighed. “You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow, my friend…”

With one last lingering look at his sprawled, twisted body, she turned to leave.

“Kathryn…” She jumped as his soft, indistinct voice sounded behind her. “Why do you hate me so much? What’d I do?” Even through the haze of the alcohol his anguish came through clearly. She felt the tears well and fall, and she half-turned toward him.

“Oh, Chakotay…” she murmured. “I don’t hate you. Oh God, I don’t hate you! I—” She bit back her declaration of love just in time. She didn’t want the first time she said those words to him to be when he was so drunk he couldn’t even undress himself. When he said nothing more, she left the room, wiping at her tears.

This has to stop, she thought as she recycled the bottle and glass and wiped up the table. She decided she would talk to him the next evening, resolve it all. She thought of her actions when they’d been trapped in the ‘lift and realized he was right. She had acted like a frightened animal, but that’s because that was essentially what she had been.

She had been scared for so many reasons, she mused as she headed toward Sickbay, automatically nodding at the crewmen and ignoring their curious looks. She had been scared that this time, she wouldn’t be able to keep herself from responding to the situation by ending up in his arms, scared of all that that entailed. Not the breach of protocol—after all, she’d broken every other protocol out here—but the possible loss. She was scared that admitting her love for him would be the final nail in his coffin, the thing that ensured the loss of him, the way she had lost everyone else she’d ever loved. She was scared that that loss would kill her spirit if not her body—scared of what that would mean for their crew, their people. She was scared of losing the rigid self-control she had held in an iron fist for so many years now, afraid of finding out that that tightly-contained being was all she could be now.

All of those things had frightened her into behaving the way she had, but what had scared her most was the nagging, growing belief that if she threw herself into his arms, he would hug her gently, smile that charming smile, and tell her she was too late. She had had no idea that his feelings for her still ran as deep as they once had, and his friendly but seemingly unconcerned demeanor in the turbolift had confused her, making her reactions to him even more volatile. She now knew what a tremendously difficult act it had been for him to keep up. She knew that she should be ecstatic that he felt the same as she did, but at that moment, all she could think about was how much pain she had unwittingly caused him.

It was ironic, she considered, that if all went well the next day, one of the crew’s matchmaking attempts might actually be successful. Her brain automatically began to come up with punishments and reprimands for the senior staff members implicated in the plot, considering how much pain their good intentions had caused. Then she remembered the sorrow she’d heard in Tom and B’Elanna’s voices in the holodeck, and she decided they’d probably suffered enough by seeing how they’d hurt their friend. She rolled her eyes. When did I get so soft? she thought, snorting as she entered Sickbay.

The Doctor looked up at the sound and hurried over.

“Captain? Are you well?”

“Yes, Doctor. I need a detox hypospray, please.”

“Certainly,” he responded crisply, with only a hint of disapproval as he loaded a hypospray and came at her with it.

“Wait!” she said, holding up her hand to ward him off. “Let me rephrase that. I need one to take with me.”

This time he openly frowned. “Captain, if you’re planning to indulge—”

“I’m not,” she said flatly, and he stared at her, puzzled. She sighed. “It’s not for me… It’s for Commander Chakotay.”

“Well, if he’s ill or impaired, he should come to Sickbay on his own.”

She rolled her eyes and arched an eyebrow. “And you really think that’s likely?”

It was the Doctor’s turn to sigh. “You’re right… but I don’t know, Captain…”

“Listen, Doctor, I realize I may not be highly trained in the medical sciences, but I think I’m capable of diagnosing a hangover. I’m quite familiar with the cause, and the symptoms. And believe me, the Commander is going to have a hell of one tomorrow, and you and I both know he’s too damn stubborn to come to you to have it taken care of. If I have the hypospray in my ready room, he’ll get it. I promise you that I’ll return your hypospray, empty or—if by some miracle, he proves us wrong and actually does come to you—full. All right?”

The Doctor wordlessly handed her the hypospray, and she thanked him with a nod and a wry smile and left his domain. She headed back to her quarters to try and sleep, knowing it would be fruitless as she would be too busy worrying about the man next door.

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

When the ‘lift doors opened, Tom glanced back, barely reigning in his surprised gasp. Chakotay looked like hell. He had never seen the first officer look so miserable. He looked like he had been repeatedly dragged through a warp plasma conduit and then immersed in a tank of coolant for good measure. Tom tried not to smile, remembering all the mornings he had awakened in that state and thanking every deity that he could think of that those days were mostly a thing of the past.

He heard Chakotay trudge to his seat, and he heard the Captain’s solicitous, “Good morning, Commander. Are you all right?” Tom tried not to wince at the volume of the captain’s voice, thinking, Oh, you’d better turn that down, Captain. You’re going to kill him. Then he realized that his captain’s voice was slightly louder than normal, and he had to fight to keep from laughing as he realized she was doing it on purpose.

After a long moment, Chakotay murmured, “I’m fine, Captain, just feeling a little bit under the weather. I’ll be all right; thank you for asking.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thanks,” he said tightly.

“Very well. I’ll be in my ready room. Commander, you have the bridge,” she called, still in that same loud, cheery voice.

“Aye, Captain,” he muttered.

As soon as the ready room doors closed, Tom called without turning around, “Good morning, Commander!”

“Paris!” he growled.

“Yes sir?”

“Shut it. You’re already on the top of my shit list for your little stunt yesterday. The only things that are keeping you alive right now are a) I can’t move, and b) B’Ela would hurt me if I hurt you.”

Tom said nothing more, duly warned. He was slightly surprised at the older man’s vulgarity; it was uncharacteristic of him. He wondered if Chakotay remembered all that he had said in the holodeck, and wondered if he knew the captain had heard. She seemed to be in a good mood since she was teasing her first officer… He wondered if she remembered what she had heard.

The bridge stayed quiet for a long time, as the crew noticed that the commander was in no mood for friendly banter or even minor ship’s business. Tom kept his eyes on his console but spent his time thinking about Chakotay.

He remembered how he and the older man had despised each other during their first days on Voyager, how they had circled each other like wary animals. He remembered having to deceive the other man to unmask Jonas, how uncomfortable he had been with the role, having begun to grudgingly respect Chakotay. He thought of how much B’E thought of the man she considered an older brother, how important his happiness was to her, and he realized that Chakotay’s happiness was important to him too. He might have started the matchmaking schemes to make a fortune in the betting pools, but now he was in it for the sake of Janeway and Chakotay. He recalled with a sigh Chakotay’s impassioned words from the night before, and Janeway’s hasty departure, and he knew that he would have to put a stop to all the speculation, all the betting, and definitely all the matchmaking attempts. They were hurting far more than they were helping, and it was the least he could do, considering that he had been the one to start it all.

There was a strange choking sound behind him, and he turned around in alarm. Chakotay was sitting bolt upright in his chair, eyes wide, hands gripping the chair’s arms so hard that his knuckles were white. Tom smiled briefly, but it came out looking more like a grimace. Well, if Chakotay hadn’t remembered his actions and words of the previous night, he was certainly recalling something now.

Chakotay shot up from his chair, and then just stood for a moment, and Tom knew he was waiting for the bridge to stop spinning. Not pleasant when your inertial dampers go offline, is it, big guy? After a few seconds, Chakotay regained his balance and croaked out, “You have the bridge, Tom,” before slowly making his way to the ready room door.

“Aye, sir,” Tom replied, just slightly louder than normal, and Chakotay’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. Tom figured the older man had probably decided he didn’t need to waste energy on a reprimand.

The doors slid open immediately after Chakotay requested entry, and he stepped in cautiously. Kathryn was at her desk, seemingly engrossed in a padd, sipping from a cup of coffee—the smell of which made Chakotay’s stomach turn. After a moment, she looked up.

“You look like hell, Chakotay.”

“Captain… Kathryn… I…”

“Sit down.”

“I’d rather—”

“Sit down before you fall down, Commander.”

Without another word, he sat. He watched her, trying to gauge her mood.

“Kathryn… I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, she chuckled. “Do you even remember what you’re sorry for, Chakotay?”

He lowered his eyes as she stood and began to pace. He kept his eyes on his lap and thus didn’t see her when she came toward him. He yelped and slapped a hand to his neck when he felt the hiss of a hypospray.

“What the hell was that?”

“A detox hypo, relax. I told the Doctor you wouldn’t be smart enough to go get one on your own. Commander, if you want to drink yourself into oblivion and then spend your off days so hungover you can barely stand, that’s your business, but the next time you show up on my bridge in this condition, I’ll send you off to Sickbay in front of the entire bridge crew, and that’s before I put you on report! What kind of example are you setting for the junior officers? You’re in no condition to command a starship, and that could mean the difference between life and death. Understood?”

Chakotay sighed, and she could see in his eyes the pain he felt at disappointing her. “Yes, Captain. I apologize for my lapse in judgment.”

Her voice softened. “Good. I’m glad you understand. Apology accepted.” She chuckled. “To be honest, you are the last person I ever thought I’d have to lecture about coming on duty with a hangover. Do you remember what happened last night? You were pretty out of it.”

He nodded warily. “Yes… at least, I think I do. Spirits, now I remember why I don’t drink. Kathryn, I’m sorry about everything I said—”

She sighed, and cut him off. “Chakotay, this isn’t really the time or place for this discussion. I shouldn’t have brought it up—”

“I know, but please… just tell me now if you’re furious at me, so that I can stay out of your way; it will make things easier on everybody.”

There was such pleading in his tone that she almost laughed. She settled for a smile, instead. “Chakotay, if I was furious at you, I would have let you pass out on the couch. Given you a backache as well as a hangover.”

His eyes widened. “You put me to bed?!” He smiled briefly, and then his brow furrowed. “Obviously, I don’t remember everything…” he said contemplatively.

This time she did laugh. “Don’t worry… you were in no condition to do anything but sleep. And believe me, if we had done something you needed to remember and you didn’t remember, you wouldn’t have to ask me if I was furious. You’d be cleaning the hull with your tongue—minus an EVA suit.”

He sat, speechless. She’s flirting with me!

She laughed again at his bewildered expression, and then her smile softened, becoming almost vulnerable. “Chakotay, I do think we need to discuss this further, but as I said, this isn’t the time or place. How ‘bout dinner?”

Chakotay nodded, and she said in a relieved tone of voice, “Good. 1900? My quarters?” When he nodded again, she said, “All right. We have a starship to run. Why don’t you go take care of the duty roster in your office until that hypo kicks in?”

He smiled gratefully and stood, saying, “Kathryn… I—”

“Tonight, Commander,” she said, cutting him off, but a smile softened the blow. He returned the smile and left without another word, and she sighed and raised a hand to her brow, rubbing forcefully.

“How come I have a headache? He’s the one with the hangover!”

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

Chakotay managed to avoid Kathryn for the rest of the day, not really wanting to see her before they had a chance to resolve everything that night. He was confused; she seemed angry with him for his lapse of judgment in coming to the bridge hungover, but that was all she seemed mad about. Unless he was completely mistaken, she’d been flirting with him in the ready room. He shrugged. Perhaps he remembered wrongly—maybe he’d only imagined her telling him she’d heard him in Sandrine’s. It was possible—much of the night was a blur; he couldn’t even really remember what he’d said to Tom, but he knew that whatever words he’d used, he’d told everyone in earshot that he loved the captain. He sighed.

“Something wrong?” a voice asked, and he jumped. He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed he was no longer alone in the turbolift. He sighed again.

“Halt turbolift,” he said, turning to the ‘lift’s other occupant, who looked surprised. “B’Ela… what did I say last night?”

His friend looked away briefly, and he groaned. “That bad, huh?”

She grimaced. “Well… you told us all—rather eloquently and graphically, I might add—how painful it was for you to be trapped in that turbolift. I think you called it torture.” She looked down. “For what it’s worth, Chakotay, I’m sorry. So’s Tom. We never meant—”

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, B’Ela. You all had good intentions.” He sighed. “It’s not your fault she doesn’t love me.”

B’Elanna looked up and took in the pain in his face and the slump of his shoulders, and she impulsively threw her arms around him. He stiffened, surprised, and then returned her hug.

“What was that for?” he asked when she let him go.

She shrugged. “You looked like you could use a hug.”

He smiled, but it was still pained. “Thanks,” he murmured. “B’Ela… did the captain hear me?” She looked away again, and he groaned again. “I thought so.”

“She was in the booth next to you, with the curtains drawn. After you left, she took off pretty quickly. She seemed really upset—”

“I bet.”

“No, you don’t understand. She wasn’t mad… she was crying. It seemed like… like what you said really got to her.”

Chakotay looked stunned. “She was crying?”

“Yeah… and she practically ran out of the holodeck.”

“She came to my quarters… I think she wanted to talk, but I couldn’t even think, and I don’t remember much. She told me this morning in the ready room that she wants to talk about it at dinner tonight.”

“She wants to talk to you about it, she’s having you to dinner, she was crying, and she didn’t chew you out? Chakotay, you don’t think—”

“No. I don’t. I don’t think anything, B’Ela. I won’t get my hopes up again. For all I know, she could be waiting to chew me out or kick my ass in private. But if I don’t hurry—Computer, what’s the time?”

“The time is 1852 hours.”

“If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late, and then she’ll really chew me out. Computer, resume ‘lift.” He hugged her quickly, right before the doors opened. “Thanks, B’Ela,” he called as he slipped out. She just shook her head as the doors closed.

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

Chakotay rang Kathryn’s door chime at 1858, sighing with relief that he was on time. When she called for him to come in, he did and stopped short. She was at the replicator, turned away from him, but he could see that she was in a soft green dress, and she was barefoot. He looked down in dismay at his uniform, which he hadn’t had time to change out of. In any case, he hadn’t been sure if he should change; it had been so long since they’d shared a meal out of uniform. When he looked back up, she was smiling at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to change.”

“It’s my fault. I should have said no uniforms. Would you like to go change?” He smiled and started to shake his head, and she said, “Please. Go get comfortable. Dinner can wait a few moments. It’s not like it’s going to burn,” she said, gesturing at the replicator.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Are you sure? With your replicator, one never knows.”

She threw a napkin at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, all right,” he said, laughing. “I’ll be right back.”

After he left, she sat on the sofa, trying to soothe her jangling nerves. She took deep breaths and tried to force her hands to stop trembling. She chuckled apprehensively, shaking her head. She could face down the Borg, Species 8472, the Hirogen, and every other hostile alien perfectly steadily, but confront her with the man she loved, and she became a nervous wreck. She jumped when the chime rang and glanced at the chronometer. Has it really been ten minutes already? She stood and called for him to enter.

He stepped in, and her heart fluttered. He was wearing dark brown trousers and a cream-colored shirt, open at the collar. He looked fresh and well-scrubbed, and she could smell his cologne, the scent she loved so much. He looked good enough to eat. She smiled, ordering herself not to blush.

“That was fast.”

“It’s not polite to keep a lady waiting,” he countered, with a gallant bow.

She grinned. “Well, you look much more comfortable. Have a seat,” she said, gesturing toward the couch. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she added, heading for the replicator. “I take it you don’t want wine?” She half-turned as she asked him, chuckling when she saw him shudder.

“No thanks. Tea’s fine.”

Disregarding the couch, he followed her into the eating area, locating her dishes with the ease of long familiarity. As she tweaked the replicator settings, he quickly set the table, and she smiled at the sight.

They sat, and she said after a moment, “Well, you look much better than you did this morning.”

Chakotay chuckled. “Thanks to some enforced treatment by Dr. Janeway.”

After that quick exchange, they ate in silence for a while, but the quiet slowly grew stifling as they each wrestled with their thoughts. From the corner of her eye, Kathryn watched his facial expressions flicker as he toyed with his food.

“Chakotay…” she said eventually, and he looked up, relieved that she was getting down to it at last. “Last night, you said something—”

He sighed. “I said a lot of things last night, apparently. I don’t remember many of them. I didn’t mean most of them.”

“You didn’t mean them, or you didn’t mean to say them?”

His jaw muscle twitched in annoyance, but she wasn’t sure if he was annoyed at her for putting words in his mouth or for correctly guessing what he’d meant.

“What did I say, Kathryn?”

“When I was putting you to bed, you… you asked me what you’d done to make me hate you so much. Chakotay,” she went on quickly, seeing that he was about to speak, “I don’t hate you. God… you know that, don’t you? You don’t really think I hate you, do you?”

He sighed and looked down at his plate, and icy dread settled more securely around her heart with each second of his silence.

“No,” he said eventually. “I don’t think you hate me, but Kathryn… I don’t understand why you react so harshly to my nearness, like you did yesterday. Spirits, you looked terrified! Have I ever given you any reason to think that I might do anything to harm you? You looked like you thought I was going to throw you to the floor of the ‘lift and rape you!”

“I was scared,” she murmured without thinking, and he actually turned away from her in his chair, but not before she saw the terrible look of anguish and guilt on his face.

“No!” she exclaimed, immediately getting out of her chair and going to his side. She knelt beside him and took his clenched fists in her hands, trying to look into his face, but he kept it turned from her.

“Not of you, never of you, Chakotay. I…” she paused, trying to marshal her thoughts. She had no idea how she was going to say what she needed to say. “How can I explain this?” Kathryn smiled. “Chakotay, there is only one person I am gladder to have at my side on an away mission than Tuvok. My first officer,” she said, and he didn’t respond, though his fists relaxed slightly. “I know that you would never let any harm come to me if you could possibly help it—”

He murmured something that sounded like “Death first,” and she smiled and squeezed his hands.

“I’m safe with you; I know that. It’s… I’m no stranger to loss, Chakotay,” she said softly. “I know that you, of all people, will understand that. You, more than anyone else on this ship, know how much the loss of a crewmember affects me. As hard as I’ve tried, this crew… they mean so much to me. And you… I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. I don’t think I would be able to cope with it. So I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard not to let you mean what you mean to me, but I can’t just make it go away.”

She stopped, frustrated at her clumsy attempts to make him understand, and he took a deep breath and opened his mouth. She squeezed his hands, stilling him.

“Please… let me say what I have to. I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it again if I don’t do it now.”

“If I ever sent you to your… your death, this ship would lose both members of the command team, Chakotay. I imagine I’d survive, but it wouldn’t be living. God, this is exactly why Starfleet doesn’t allow relationships between members of the same command structure. What would happen to our people? I took an oath to protect those under my command, and I made a promise to get everyone on this ship home. I don’t think that I could do either of those if I lost you.”

“All the protocols in the universe can’t stop me from loving you, or losing you,” she said, stopping when he bowed his head further, battling for self-control. After a moment, he spoke, still unable to look at her.

“Then… why did you… I don’t understand, Kathryn.”

“Why did I act that way in the turbolift? I haven’t told you all my fears, Chakotay. I…” I don’t know if I can. Her voice wavered as she spoke; she was terrified of this, terrified of baring her soul, of laying everything out before him and opening herself up to his reaction. He sensed her trepidation and raised his head to finally look into her eyes. He slid out of the chair and knelt next to her. Turning his fists and opening his hands, he grasped hers gently.

“Tell me, Kathryn, please.”

She drew away slightly, looking over his shoulder, but she didn’t let go of his hands. Chakotay knew she needed the slight distance to compose herself; he hated it, but he let her have it. She had come to him, finally, and she would ultimately come to him completely, but she had to do it her own way. If he had learned anything during the time he had known and loved Kathryn Janeway, it was that. She was silent, but he could see the fear and the uncertainty swimming in her eyes, and he said nothing, just stroking the backs of her hands with his thumbs.

“I’m… what if I can’t, Chakotay? I’ve been The Captain for such a long time. What if Kathryn’s gone? What if she’s dead, withered away? What if I can’t love you the way I want to, the way you deserve and have patiently waited so long for?”

To her astonishment, he smiled. Lifting one hand, he stroked her cheek and gently wiped her eye with his thumb, removing the single tear she hadn’t even noticed.

“That won’t be a problem, Kathryn,” he said softly. When she frowned, he clasped her hands again. “I’m not dismissing your fears, but don’t you see? The fact that you are here, sitting with me, talking about it and worrying about it, proves that that’s not the case. It isn’t The Captain who’s before me now, vulnerable and unsure.” He laughed when he saw a flash of defiance in her eyes. “Oh, she’s there. I just saw her. She didn’t like me saying she’s vulnerable, but she is. You are, and I know how you hate that. But you’re both here, Kathryn and my captain, and I love you both.”

With that, the last of her composure crumbled and she slumped forward, burying her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and turned so that she was in his lap as he leaned against the table leg. He stroked her hair, murmuring soothingly, and held her as she trembled. He knew that there would be no tears, not yet—The Captain was a formidable force and would not allow that yet—but they would come, eventually, and he would be waiting for them. As he held her in his arms, he felt the last of the resignation and the grief that had held his spirit in a stranglehold for so long wilt and fade away.

“I thought you didn’t,” she said shakily, her voice muffled. “Not anymore. You hid it so well. I was so afraid I was too late. I know you’ve tried to move on… several times, and—”

“Kath—”

“Shh,” she murmured, placing a finger on his lips. “I know you had to, and I don’t blame you. But you're obviously a much better actor than I am... In the turbolift, you seemed so friendly and unconcerned, and I was afraid that I’d say something or do something that would tell you everything instantly, and that it would embarrass us both. I think… I think that I could stand your loathing more than I could stand your pity, Chakotay—“

“We’ll never find out because you’ll never have either,” he said, needing to speak his thoughts just as much as she did. “I did try… I can’t deny that, but it’s useless, Kathryn. I love you and I think I always have. My spirit is bound to yours, and it doesn’t want freedom or the companionship of another. It wants you. It yearns for you, and it won’t settle for anything less. I won’t.”

They were both silent, but as he closed his eyes and breathed in her delicate scent, Chakotay realized that if something cataclysmic happened within the next few moments, he would die at peace. The last of his regrets had been banished; he had held Kathryn Janeway in his arms and told her of his love.

“What else are you afraid of?” he murmured, at last breaking the silence.

She shifted her head to grin crookedly up at him. “What, a confession that I nearly threw you to the floor of the 'lift and had my way with you isn't enough?”

“I don't see any problem with that," he mused, laughing when she punched his arm. "Seriously, Kathryn, I just want to make sure we get all your fears out and talked about. It’s the only way to make sure we do this right.”

Kathryn smiled but then grew solemn. “What if I send you to your death, Chakotay?” she whispered.

He sighed. “Then you do. You are my captain, Kathryn, and it’s always a possibility. Know that I would never blame you, and that I would be proud to die for this ship and our crew, and for you. We both know it would be irrational for me to promise that I will always be here and that nothing will ever happen to me. But I would die before I willingly hurt you, and if I should ever be torn away from you, know that my spirit will never leave you. You would never be alone, Kathryn; that I do promise you.”

She said nothing, and Chakotay continued. “Kathryn, even aside from me, you are never alone. I know you feel that you are, but there are 150 people on this ship, and they make up a community that wants you as a part of it, not just as a leader but as a member.”

Kathryn nodded but remained silent, and he stifled a sigh, not sure what she was thinking. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “Where do we go now?”

She looked into his eyes and smiled, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight.

“The holodeck,” she answered, and he frowned, puzzled. “Do you trust me, Chakotay?”

“With my life, you know that.”

“I do love you,” she said softly, and the smile that lit his face dazzled her. “We’ve waited long enough, Chakotay; we’ve both been hurt beyond measure by the waiting. I don’t quite know where we’ll go from here or what we’ll face, but we’ll do it together.”

Though Kathryn did her best to sound confident, her voice trembled slightly at the end. He kissed her gently, softly touching his lips to hers, and she wrapped her arms around him and hung on tightly. When he tried to deepen the kiss, she pulled away, dropping a kiss on the end of his nose before disentangling herself and standing up.

“Come on,” she said, holding out a hand to help him to his feet.

“The holodeck?”

“Yes. I know you’ve been following my lead for too long now, and I promise I’ll make it up to you later, but please, just a little while longer. I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

Chakotay nodded, intrigued, and followed her out of her quarters. He was unable to stop the smile that appeared when she took his hand in the corridor. His only disappointment was that there seemed to be no one around to see it.

All noise in Sandrine’s momentarily stopped dead as the command team strolled in hand-in-hand. Chakotay followed Kathryn as she picked her way carefully across the floor toward the same secluded booth she’d hidden in the night before. He grinned, only then realizing that she'd walked through her ship barefoot. No wonder she seemed shorter...

His smile grew when he figured out her plan. The noise around them picked up sharply as they sat—side by side rather than across from each other—and he laughed as he saw Megan Delaney dart out the holodeck doors. Kathryn signaled to Sandrine and had her bring over a bottle of her best champagne and two glasses. After the pretty hologram moved away from their table, Kathryn winked at him. He leaned slightly and kissed her, his eyes asking permission and hers laughingly agreeing. He struggled not to laugh as he heard a few muffled gasps.

“Computer,” she said, raising her voice slightly, and though she tried her best, he could hear in it the chuckle that was straining to break free. When she spoke, the noise around them diminished again. “Raise the privacy curtains around this booth, please.”

The computer beeped in acknowledgment and the curtains faded into existence around them, and he kissed her again to the accompaniment of the crew raucously cheering their approval.