Humidity hung in the air of the gym as sweat poured off Chakotay. He was exhausted, but maybe this time it would help him sleep.
Images of Kathryn flashed in his mind: her smiling at Kashyk, touching his shoulder, giving him her sexy half smile.
Anger exploded.
The consecutive and rhythmic thwacks of his fist connecting with flesh resounded off the walls of the boxing ring at Star Fleet.
A shrill whistle pierced through the red haze of anger.
Boothby's slight form wedged between Chakotay and his opponent. If the holographic figure resembled Kashyk, there was no one around to mention that little indulgence.
"Easy, son. He's had enough," the older holographic man said gruffly.
Kathryn had done too well a job programing the holo-program.
"Computer, delete Boothby character." Fatherly advice was not what he needed tonight. He needed an outlet. He needed to beat the crap out of something. He needed to get rid of this anger so he could go and mop up the pieces of Tom's disgusting plan.
He landed another right cross to his holographic opponent's mid-section. Chakotay was rewarded with a groan and a whoosh of expelled air. Holo-Kashyk retreated a step. Another blow delivered.
Holo-Kashyk took another step back and found his avenue of escaped blocked by the ropes. Pleasure, and not for the first time, bloomed inside Chakotay and he pressed his advantage. He threw a series of punches and jabs each aimed to do the most damage to his opponent's face.
"Computer, delete my boxing gloves." The computer followed the command and Chakotay was left bare knuckled. Skin on skin, the impact of the assault raised his dopamine levels. He smiled.
Not even when he'd gotten the gruesome news of the Maquis' slaughter had he needed, craved this much violence. Felt this uncontrolled rage. Kashyk and Kathryn had stripped away layers of peace to expose the raw anger she'd help him subdue.
But he needed to purge himself of the anger. He needed to be there for her.
Each passing day with that man on the ship became harder and harder. Watching her pretend to—he couldn't even bring himself to think about what she was doing with Kashyk without the blinding rage coming full force. Yet, each night he'd held her and consoled her.
The hits came harder and faster. Even when the hologram slumped to the mat, Chakotay followed him down and continued the assault, which was what this had become. It wasn't an even match. It was a gutter fight, a slaughter. Anything. Just so he could vent his anger and be able to be there for Kathryn.
"Computer, end program." Her voice rang out.
Holo-Kashyk, a bloody heap, vanished, then the ring and the walls of the Star Fleet boxing gym. Everything dissolved until only Kathryn and Chakotay remained in the empty grid covered holodeck.
His panting was the only sound to fill the now empty area. Kathryn turned on her heal and walked away. Self-loathing and disgust charged through Chakotay.
How had he let her down so completely?
He hung his head. An internal rant directed at himself: how could he be such an insensitive fool? She was trying to save the lives of her crew and the refugees and here he was being eaten alive with jealousy. What right did he have to feel this way?
So lost in his own thoughts, that when she reached for his hand, he almost jumped. She hadn't left.
Kathryn had retrieved the med kit from the bay unit and now stood examining his bruised hand. Her bent head only reached his chin. The fragrant smell of her lilac shampoo assailed his nostrils. He took a deep breath wanting to inhale the sweet scent that he'd come to know as uniquely Kathryn.
Her red silky hair was slightly damp. She had bathed. Sorrow twisted inside of him. She had confessed to him that first night that she had to bathe to rid herself of Kashyk's scent in order to sleep.
Anger streaked through him but was pushed aside by guilt. He was supposed to be there for her, not the other way around. He tried to pull his hand back, but Kathryn gripped it tighter. Silently she used the dermal regenerator to heal the damage his irrational anger had caused.
First one hand then the other.
When she raised her gaze to meet his, she avoided direct eye contact. Instead she sought out the damaged areas of the few lucky punches holo-Kashyk had been able to land. When he was healed to her satisfaction, she released his chin and returned the med kit to its former location.
"Kathryn." His voice croaked. He could hardly recognize it himself.
Shoulders squared, captain's mask firmly in place, she turned around to face him.
"Don't."
Crossing her hands in front of her, she spoke, "don't what?"
"Close off. I want… I am here for you." He was afraid to move as he tried to swallow down the anger that he'd let run free. Never had he wanted her to witness his loss of control. Conflicting desires held his feet in place.
He wanted to go to her and hold her like she had needed him these past nights. He wanted to punch his fist into the nearest bulk head for allowing her to see his turbulent emotions. He wanted to find Q and make sure Voyager had never entered Devore space so Kathryn was never put in this position in the first place. He wanted, most of all, to rewind the last hour so he would have been waiting for her in her cabin not indulging in self-pity.
No, he could not have seen her an hour ago.
She turned again and headed for the holodeck doors.
"Can we talk about this? I should have... done better. Been better. I'm sorry."
"What are you sorry about? I don't think either one of us really understood what this deception cost. There was no way to take any precautions against feelings. But, we've found the coordinates of the wormhole just now… Kashyk and I. If any double cross is going to take place it should be soon. Chakotay, can we get through this?" She hadn't turned around when she had spoken.
Guilt like a fist plowed into him. "Yes. Together?"
She turned around. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes and nodded.
