Disclaimer: The chances of my owning anything Trek-related are about as much as those of my owning the entire Southern hemisphere. (As in, none.)

A/N: This is a companion piece to 'At the End of the Day'. I will recommend, but by no means insist, that you read that first. It's not that long...

Enjoy. And, if you do, feel free to let me know by any means necessary, be that through the oh-so-convenient 'Review' box and button at the end of the page, or through the other ways I stay in contact with the outside world: namely via either homing pigeon or smoke signals.

Thank You(s): Mrs. Singing Violin- I'm hoping this is a little better than when you first saw it... :)


I stare out at the stars flying blindly past us. Mere streaks of light in the dark expanse we call space. They have always been beautiful to me and I know I could look at them for hours.

I know he is there long before he reaches me, even before I hear him. He is always there, but I wouldn't want it to be any different.

His footsteps are calm and measured as he approaches me. I feel his hands grip my hips, and I feel the heat of his chest press against my back. He bends down to kiss my shoulder, running his tongue firmly along the tendon at the side of my neck and up towards my ear. Overpowering.

I turn in his embrace and am instantly surrounded by his scent: clean with earthy overtones. Intoxicating.

His hands move up to my waist and his lips begin to descend upon mine. All-consuming.

I feel his mouth move against mine, and I can taste his tongue as it strokes my own. I raise my hands to cup his face, but they decide to move into his hair instead; the ring on my left hand snags momentarily on one of the short, greying strands.

He pulls me tighter to him, his kiss simply teasing while his embrace promises more, and I can no longer remember how to breathe. I am powerless to stop myself-

Kathryn jerks awake, a fine sheen of perspiration coating her skin as she hungrily gasps for air.

Her breathing slowly calms and begins to even out. When it eventually does, she lifts her head slightly to get her bearings, only to let it fall back onto the pillow as she realizes that what she's just experienced was not real.

She is in her quarters, in her bed- alone.

These dreams aren't new to her. But tonight it is different. The small addition of the jewelry on her left hand was one that she had not noticed before. But one that she desperately wants to be real.

But never can be.

Her eyes close of their own accord, her mind still half dowsed in sleep, dragging her back into the dream.


He feels like he's been tossing and turning for hours, and yet a comfortable sleeping position continues to elude him. He looks at the right side of the bed: it's empty, untouched. He hasn't slept on that side in years, and he doesn't quite know why.

No, I know exactly why, he corrects himself. But he isn't about to admit that the last time he slept soundly was when he was holding her.

"Kathryn," he whispers into the darkness. The one person he has ever felt so... at ease with. He can't use the word 'comfortable', because he feels that it would trivialize what he feels. Everything else pales in comparison. A mere flicker of a flame in comparison to the bright white light of a supernova.

No one- nothing- has ever made him feel like this.

And that's what makes it all the harder to bury his feelings, his love, for her.

He lies there in the silence and turns his head to the wall. She is there; he can feel it. Only a few feet away. He hopes she is sleeping peacefully, but he doubts it. At this point in time, he has a suspicion that either she's devouring a novel she's been meaning to read for some time now, or she's poring over a report, given to her earlier in the day but left unattended and unread for hours.

Whatever she's doing, I hope she's finding a peaceful sleep easier to pin down than I am.

He gets out of bed, knowing of only one thing that will calm him, if only slightly, at this time of night.


I feel his lips on mine, soft and pliant. I taste his tongue; the kiss is slow and sensual, keeping the pace unhurried while his hands pull me closer against him, his firm embrace containing a hastened passion, while his tongue-

Kathryn sighs in exasperation as she opens her eyes again. She wriggles against the sheets that have bunched up around her, trying desperately to loosen the hold they have on her in order to sit up. She does so, but too quickly and buries her face in her hands while she waits for the room to stop spinning. I'm too old for this.

She swings her legs around to the floor on her left, placing her bare feet on the carpet as she glances behind her at the empty left side of the bed, his side, wishing that it were no longer empty. Kathryn stands, one of her knees clicking in protest as she shifts her weight off the bed. I'm definitely too old for this.

Voyager's captain slowly staggers the short distance from her bedroom to her replicator and leans against the bulkhead beside it as she finds her balance. Kathryn finds herself about to order her usual coffee when she changes her mind, opting for something else that a friend once recommended for such a situation.

Chakotay said he always found it... calming. Which is definitely something her frayed nerves could do with about now. To say it has been a grueling week would be an understatement. First, there was the prospect of sending a message home: a glimmer of hope.

One that was snatched away. Another chance, another positive in this god-forsaken quadrant- gone. She bows her head and remembers the letter she received from Mark, knowing that she was not the only one to receive bad news.

"Dear Kathryn..." That had been a bad sign in itself- he had only ever called her 'Kathryn' when he needed to tell her something bad. For the first few lines of the letter he had tried to keep the tone light, but ... I waited as long as I could... I met Larissa... I had to let go of you... I'm sorry..."

She clenches her fists in an attempt to spare the wall her anger. She knows that she is not angry at him. She could never be angry at Mark for moving on with his life in her absence. She's angry at herself. Because she knows she let go a long time before he did.

She let go of Mark within a year of being stranded in the Delta Quadrant.

No, before that- Within a few months month of taking command. Within a few months of meeting Chakotay.

Chakotay. The man who took Mark's place in her dreams within mere weeks of meeting him. At first she shrugged it off, letting herself believe that it was merely a subconscious reaction to being in such close proximity to him on a daily basis.

That lie wore thin eventually... she remembers how she had begun to embrace her growing feelings for him on New Earth. How easy it was to forget about the other man who was still waiting for her across the galaxy, who was still hoping she would return to him.

But I had let go of him long before that...

She tries to put names to the multitude of emotions swirling around in her head because of that one letter.

Loss? No, that would imply that I still had Mark's heart, that I still wanted it.

Guilt? Perhaps. I know I should have waited longer... but I couldn't. My heart had found something- someone- else...

Pain? Not at Mark's letter: his moving on was inevitable, and knows she has been hoping for it ever since she became stranded out here.

But there is thought at the back of her mind that quickly rises to the surface and shocks her.

You were hoping that, with Mark having given up, you would be able to be with Chakotay...

She reels from this realization, leaning her head against the cool metal of the bulkhead.

But nothing has changed. Mark moved on, and Chakotay made his feelings towards me quite clear a few months ago when we faced the Borg.

I can never give myself to him while we are out here; it wouldn't be fair to him. The ship would always come between us. He would only have a fraction of me while I was in command.

She nearly jumps when her drink materializes in front of her.


He picks up the hot tea and takes two large gulps that burn his throat before settling in his stomach. Chakotay closes his eyes as the familiar sensation of the tea's soothing warmth begins to spread throughout his body as the glowing aftertaste of citrus lingers, chasing away some of his tension.

Some, but not all.

Chakotay walks over to the viewport and contemplates further what has been keeping him up all night.

He recalls how the two of them endured their shift in silence today.

She had been unusually distant since the incident with the Hirogen just a few short days before, and he noticed a while ago how she seemed more detached than usual, throwing herself into her role as captain with the usual vigor, but none of the usual passion.

He understands the necessity for silence between the two of them when they are on the bridge. He knows she will tell him what's on her mind in an appropriate tine and place, and the bridge, on duty, would not qualify. But he isn't prepared for the silence they endured earlier that day on their way to their quarters. He isn't prepared for the professional silence to last once their shifts are over.

However, the short journey from the bridge to the point where they part ways has given him time to realize that he didn't want her to say anything. He has to trust that she will tell him when she is ready to do so. Part of him knows that she is not ready. Not yet. Not while she is still reeling from the loss of Mark.

Mark. He can't even think about the man without feeling the bitterness rise up in his throat. The man hadn't waited for her. He had given her up for dead little over a year after Voyager disappeared.

I could never- Chakotay doesn't let himself finish the thought. Merely contemplating the loss of Kathryn is too painful. He doubts he would ever survive losing her, never mind trying to get over her.

He lifts the cup to his lips again and looks in the direction of her quarters.


She sips lightly at the tea, immediately understanding why he enjoys this particular blend: the moment the taste of the hot orange and cinnamon infusion touches her tongue, its warmth spreads throughout her body, calming and relaxing her. Kathryn smiles as she notices that the temperature of the cup in her hands is far higher than of most drinks that the replicators would normally produce.

He probably had B'Elanna change the settings for him. Chakotay can be incredibly... persuasive when the need arises.

Her eyes close, and once again she is surrounded by the dream of him.

She can still feel the phantom echo of his hands on her hips, in her hair, holding her close, pulling her in.

His warmth... his scent... his lips...

A tear rolls down her cheek as the knowledge that it will never be any more than a mere dream rises to the forefront of her mind. Because, while they are on Voyager, they can never be more than colleagues.

And it's my fault.

She looks towards the bulkhead that divides their quarters. The only thing that lies between us...

Kathryn stands, her gaze never leaving the small divider between them, wondering what he is doing on the other side. Is he asleep? Is he awake? Is he thinking about me? Does he know that I lo-

She stops herself. She can never admit her feelings to anyone, least of all herself. Kathryn feels a wave of emotion break over her and covers her mouth with her hand to stifle a small sob escaping her lips. Another tear falls from her lashes and Kathryn wipes it away with the back of her left hand. She can't help but notice that there is one finger that feels strangely bare. As though something is missing.

A ring.

She has never worn a ring on that finger. Justin and she had been meaning to look for one at the time of his death. With Mark, the original ring had been too small and was in the process of being re-fitted when she left for the Badlands. And with Chakotay...

...with Chakotay I will only ever have the ring I wear when I dream of him. There is too much that lies between us. I can't let myself get any closer to him. She knows that losing him would hurt far more than losing either of her previous fiancés.

Another sob threatens to break free, but she keeps her hand over her mouth firmly- cutting off its escape.


He turns at a quiet sound coming from the other side of the bulkhead providing a barrier between his quarters and the woman he-

Chakotay interrupts the thought abruptly.

I can never think of her like that; she made that quite clear a long time ago. Kathryn has built up so many barriers to keep me away from her, to keep me out. But I could never abandon her- no matter what was at stake...

Why, Kathryn? His question is silent, and he knows that, even if he were to ask her, she would never answer him.

He suddenly hears another noise, slightly louder this time...

Footsteps...

Kathryn takes a tentative step, and then another, towards the divide between them. She is drawn to the cold, gray panel in front of her.

No, drawn to what lies on the other side...

Her hand is still over her mouth, keeping her silent, but she can no longer keep her tears contained and they escape from between her lashes.

I'm so sorry, Chakotay... for pushing you away... for hiding my feelings for you... for still keeping them hidden.

Another sob rises in her throat and this time she struggles to suppress it completely. A small noise sounds from between her fingers and she hopes that it is quiet enough not to travel through the wall. Part of her couldn't bear it if he heard her like this... but another part desperately aches for him to comfort her, take her in his arms and whisper soothing words against her ear, words that would give her the strength to go on under this pretense that she has set up...in an effort to spare his feelings... her feelings...

And, of course, that's worked SO well, Kathryn, she thinks bitterly as her hand falls from her mouth and she reaches it out to touch the cold metal partition. Surely being apart from him like this hurts far more than anything else.


Chakotay reaches out his palm and lays it flat on the bulkhead, hoping- wishing- that he could run to her next door and tell her the truth... a truth that has been known by both of them for so long, but has been denied because of the choices they both made so long ago...

He knows that she would most likely want to take the blame for the barriers that lie between them, but he also knows that the blame is shared equally between them...

If I had just pushed a little bit harder, just tried to get her to open up, forced her to face the truth- he stops himself again. She would have closed up and pushed you further away, Chakotay.

She needed to come to the truth in her own time. There was no way he could force her into anything.

He hangs his head, part of him wanting to ignore the quiet noises coming from her quarters, another part wanting to make sure that she's okay, and if she isn't-

He closes his eyes, desperately trying to quell his desire to go to her right now and take her into his arms, telling her that everything will be all right, that all will be well... that, as long as they have each other, nothing can go wrong.

But he doesn't. He can't.

"Kathryn, I love you," he whispers, although he knows that he can never let her hear him say those words...

Not with these barriers between us.


She feels a slight warmth emanating from the other side of the wall, and, for a spilt second she almost pulls her hand away... scared that she's only imagining it. But then she hears a mumbling from the other side, almost as if someone has spoken her name.

Kathryn gasps in shock, her mouth open, the words that she wants to say, but never should, just lying on the tip of her tongue.

"Chakotay..." she says, another tear travelling down her cheek as she imagines him on the other side of the wall, trying to reach out to her, only to be pushed away again.

I love you...


He thinks he hears her say his name, and almost draws away, wanting both to run away from this moment and to fall into it, to run to her and comfort her.

But she would never forgive me for that.

He wants to write it off as a dream and deny it further to spare himself- spare his heart. But he can't. He knows that he can never leave her.

And that I never want to...


And so they stand,
A small space apart.
Side by side in life,
But with worlds between.

The pain the other feels only adding to their own,
As each of them searches,
Desperately,
For their long-lost Home.

What lies between Them- still in tact.

A thin bulkhead.

Protocol.

Principals.

Loyalty.

Love.

But will one of them ever choose to truly act?