a/n: to get me writing again, my BFF gave me the prompt: 'tag'.
Discussions ensued with fandom buddy killermanatee as to whether or not Starfleet would have anything resembling 'dog tags' in the 24th century. We decided that the closest thing would have to be their combadges as we see in Star Trek: Discovery.
Thank you to killermanatee for the beta.
Kim and Neelix are practically passed out in the corner of the cell, catching a few hours of rest between watches. The captain moved off to the other corner hours ago and Chakotay hasn't heard her stir. Dull light filters through cracks above, and he's been tracing their flittering patterns on the ground before giving up the effort to sleep.
He groans lightly, watching Neelix and Kim from where he lies propped up against the stone wall of their prison. He presses his fingers into tender ribs, having already summarised hours ago that at least a few of them are broken, and judging by the way he's struggling to breath with the gurgling rasp coming from his mouth, he has perhaps punctured a lung as well.
The escape plan that they have devised is fool-proof and simple: distract the guards, break the door down and then make it to the communication room to contact Voyager for an immediate beam-out before getting killed. Easy.
They've done it before.
But, no matter how many times he's gone over the plan with the captain, and no matter how often they seem to somehow survive away missions mostly intact, he knows that his chances of making it back to Voyager are growing slim.
He's going to do everything in his power to at least make sure they get out of here.
A warm weight settles next to him and he shudders out a difficult breath.
"Captain," he acknowledges. "You should be resting."
She shrugs lightly, leaning back against the cold stone and digging a heel into the soft dirt of the floor. "I'm just thinking about our plan for tomorrow."
"We've gone over it enough, captain. It's a solid plan and you'll be fine."
He feels her stiffen, and her gaze turns to bore a hole into the side of his head. "We will be fine, commander."
He smiles lightly at the fierceness in her voice, and the determination that they are all going to make it home to Voyager come-tomorrow. In the short year he's known her, the loyalty she shows her crew never ceases to amaze him. The sharp pain in his chest reminds him that he may never see that crew again, and that her last act of loyalty toward him could get herself killed.
Reaching up, he grasps the communicator badge that sits proudly on his dirt-smudge uniform. His fingers brush the dust off before he holds it out between them, offering it to her silently. He hears her sharp intake of breath as she pushes his hand away and down.
"No, commander. Absolutely not. Don't even – "
He pretends not to hear the slight crack to her voice. "Please, captain. I want you to take it. Just in case our plan doesn't quite come off how we imagined, and I don't make it out of here."
She lets out a strangled, half-sigh of distress before grinding her teeth and taking the badge from him. From the corner of his eye, he can see the way her delicate fingers trace the metal, lingering on the name and rank he knows is engraved there.
Fastening it to her chest, right next to her own badge, she lets her hand fall and tilts her head back with a thud as it impacts the solid wall behind them. He risks a glance, and tries to ignore the way her eyes are furiously blinking back the tears caught in her lashes.
He sags a little with relief, knowing that at least she will have something to remember him by and one less thing to worry about when morning comes, and it all goes to hell. Silence descends upon them, easy and familiar as the soft sounds of Neelix's snores reach their ears.
Her hand finds his, and she squeezes his fingers lightly. "I'm giving this back to you tomorrow, commander. And then I'm confining you to quarters for giving it to me in the first place."
Squeezing her hand in return, he smothers a grin and forgets about the pain in his chest for a brief moment.
"Yes, ma'am."