Author's Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing!

It was a good meal, a good time with friends, a chance to relax and forget for a while that she was "the captain." Tom kept them entertained with stories and jokes and memories. He told about some unforgettable away missions that some of them had actually tried to forget.

"And then the Assistant Supreme Adjunct Counsel insisted that we both wear the ceremonial togas." He leaned toward Chakotay. "And I'm sure you know this by now, Captain, but this guy has the best knees of anyone on the crew."

Chakotay grinned. He knew he was part of the story even though he couldn't remember this one. Most of the time, when Tom was telling stories, Chakotay had no memory of the details. But sometimes, he'd say something that seemed familiar, and a fleeting image would be there in his mind, and he'd remember.

Kathryn watched Chakotay as each story unfolded. The Doctor had assured her that Tom's storytelling would probably do more good than harm, so she was glad when they found time to reminisce.

"Oh, I don't know, Lieutenant," she pursed her lips in thought, "I don't think you've seen my knees."

Tom, who had just taken a sip of his beer, sputtered. "Well, no ma'am, I don't think I have."

"At ease, Mr. Paris," Kathryn laughed. "Truth be told, you're right. My knees can't hold a candle to Chakotay's." She glanced over at her husband and noticed his grin slip into a yawn. "And as much as I'd like to remember how this mission turned out, I think it's getting late." She placed her hand on Chakotay's arm. "And you have a holodeck date in the morning."

Chakotay looked over at B'Elanna. "Hoverball?"

"You got it, old man, but you have to let me win a few rounds, okay?"

He smiled. "Okay."

Kathryn stood up and held her hand out to Chakotay. He slipped his hand into hers, and they said their goodnights, then headed out of the mess hall, into the corridor, and toward the turbolift. When they were a few meters away, they heard voices coming from around the bend in the corridor.

"It was good to see Commander Chakotay out tonight," the first voice commented.

"He seems to be getting better," the second voice added.

"Yeah, but he's still got a long way to go. Just when I think he's the commander, he says something or does something that reminds me that…" The voice trailed off.

"Hey, brain damage isn't something you can fix overnight."

And then the voices were gone, receding farther down the corridor away from them.

They had stopped at the turbolift, and Kathryn looked over at Chakotay, immediately feeling the tension in his grasp.

And then he let go of her hand and pulled away, as if separating himself from the words that now hung unspoken between them, shards of glass in a broken window. They were such hard words - brain damage; she'd never used them to explain his injury, telling him instead that he'd had an accident, that he'd hurt his head, that he was getting better, that soon he would be all right. But brain damage sounded harsh, permanent - the words frightened her, and she didn't want to frighten him. But they were there now; he'd heard them, she was sure of that. He'd heard his name; he knew that they were talking about him.

"Chakotay?" She reached for his hand, but just at that moment, the turbolift doors opened and he stepped in ahead of her, turning to face the front, not looking at her. She stepped in next to him. "Deck 3, section 6," she intoned, and let the rest of their short journey pass in silence.

~vVv~