AN: I had intended this as a one shot really, but now there's this. Big thank you, as ever, to northernexposure for the encouragement and the beta read and to everyone who's left a review.
Two
It's amazing what a difference six hours can make.
He looks immaculate. His uniform is protocol perfect and he doesn't have a brush cut hair out of place. By some stroke of luck or genetics he doesn't even have bags under his eyes. In fact he probably looks better than I do, given the fact I found myself back in Sandrine's for a quick nightcap after I unloaded him onto his bed last night.
There's a split-second flicker of uncharacteristic hesitation when he clocks it's me, but he masks it well as he steps into the turbolift beside me.
"Good morning, Commander," I offer cheerfully.
It's not until I hear him rasp back with "Lieutenant," in an unmistakable morning-after voice that there's anything that would give him away at all. I shift a fraction to make room as he enters and we find ourselves shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes front.
"Bridge," he croaks, before quietly clearing his throat and sending a faint whiff of mint my way. Guess he must have felt the need for some serious gargling since we last met.
That initial moment of uncertainty could just be because he was caught off guard by the twist of fate that has us riding up to the bridge in the 'lift together this morning, or maybe it's because seeing me means that unwelcome bubbles of memory from last night are popping up for the first time now to burst on the surface of his hung-over brain.
Eyes glued to the door and hands clasped behind our backs we make it through the first few seconds. Then I risk a casual sideways look at him.
"I hear we broke orbit ahead of schedule last night," I test.
He just nods, staring straight ahead, but I notice a muscle in his eyelid twitching. It's crystal clear he's not in the mood to make conversation, and I can live with that, so I turn back to face the doors again.
It's only about two more seconds until he cracks, though.
"Computer, halt turbolift," he orders, then turns to face me. "About last night-"
He breaks off, so I just wait patiently.
"I presume the Ambassador got safely back to his residence?" he asks.
For a moment I don't catch on; and by the time I do, I've been too slow replying.
"It was a long day," he goes on, "and the details are a little sketchy. So…" he says, eyeing me like I'm some sort of voice activated bomb that might go off if he says the wrong thing.
"The Ambassador and all his party left as planned, yes," I confirm. "All in perfect health, sir."
He nods, obviously relieved to hear that. Maybe he was worried he'd decked the scaly-tongued Ambastard.
"And the Captain?" His voice is a tentative rasp. "She left quite early on?"
"Well, no, only a little before you did, actually."
There's a flicker of panic in his eyes but he doesn't say anything. He just swallows, so now I'm wondering what he did – or what he suspects he did – before I got there. Either way it's clear that those unwelcome memories of last night are continuing to pop up and surprise him. A feeling I'm not unfamiliar with myself.
"I see," he says. "Then if there's anything I missed, that you could fill me in on…"
As he trails off, I'm finding it slightly annoying that despite the humiliating subject matter he's managed to reclaim that tone of natural authority.
"Well it was hot and stuffy in there, as you know," I go on casually, "and after the Ambassador left, things were getting a little… close for a while, so the Captain decided to leave too."
"Close?" he swallows, seeming a little less sure of himself.
"She probably just needed some air."
His brow furrows.
"And some space."
"I see." He clears his throat again then says, "Computer, resume," sounding a little strangled now, and we both turn back to our eyes forward 'at ease' stance as the 'lift takes us the last few metres.
I'm not sure what he was hoping I'd say, but I've a feeling that what I just said wasn't it.
To my mind though, I think his chances of survival are better if he goes in there and rolls out a blanket apology, despite the fact he doesn't seem to remember yet exactly what it is he needs to apologise for. Sometimes you just have to eat that humble pie, even when you feel like you're about to throw up.
He's probably wishing the ship wasn't so damn small that someone like me ends up knowing his business; but maybe he'll just have to get used to it. The way things are going out here, it doesn't look as if anyone's going to be giving me the order to land Voyager on the Presidio any time soon. The way I see it, Chakotay and I are likely to see the best and worst of each other a few times over before we part company this time around.