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"Deck 5," Commander Chakotay stated, intent on reaching sickbay as soon as he could. The turbolift doors swished closed behind him, just as Seven led Tuvok to the centre of the Bridge. He sighed and waited for the system to engage.

"Deck 3, more like, Commander," the Doctor drawled across the comm link.

"Computer, pause turbolift." The lights dimmed, cutting power. Chakotay leant to rest his back on the wall and glanced at the door, wondering what was running through the heads of the bridge personnel. Given recent events, he was sure none of it would be positive. "What is it that you couldn't tell me in front of the crew, Doctor?"

"You've heard of the 1000-yard stare, Commander?" The Doctor's voice had unnervingly softened more than it usually did; the tone he had learnt to only use when bad news was to follow. With trepidation, Chakotay nodded slowly to himself and confirmed.

"Yes."

"The Captain has it." It was like the floor fell from beneath him. The hope he had held when the Doctor had originally contacted him not a few short minutes ago was long gone.

"I've signed her off for a week, initially, but I can't keep her here; too many people are having to visit on a regular basis, and her state," Chakotay could tell the Doctor was formulating his words carefully. "Her state could potentially alarm the crew."

"Doctor..."

"Commander, we need to watch to make sure that these symptoms don't develop further. Equally though, we don't want to suppress them. It's a fine balance, and we need to offer help in whatever way we can." Chakotay closed his eyes, covering them with the palms of his hands, shutting out the world. But the Doctor didn't stop.

"I don't want to remove her from duty permanently, Commander, believe me, but if her symptoms persist, I will be forced to declare Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

"Doctor, what are you asking of me?" His hands fell back to his side. He wanted the conversation to end. The Doctor was only making the situation sound hopeless, and he wished to make his own judgements.

"I have just signed you off for the rest of your shift, and it's your day off tomorrow. Go to her, please. Assess the situation, provide comfort; try and get her to sleep if you can. I'll drop by at 2100 hours. I could use an excursion."

"Computer, alter destination to Deck 3. Resume transit." The lights flared, the gentle humming of the motion returning. Chakotay turned to the door, bracing himself slightly.

"She needs human contact, Chakotay, and she trusts you more than any other member of this crew -" It was clear the doctor wanted to say more, but as the doors swished open, Chakotay cut him short.

"Chakotay out." He tapped his comm badge and stepped out into the corridor.

Outside of the Captain's quarters, he heard the chime on the other side of the door. When there was no answer, he activated his security override codes and stepped inside.

The lights were dim, but apart from that, little seemed different. Everything was neat, tidied away, clear surfaces; the air was tinged with the scent of her. On first glance, nothing seemed wrong, just empty. Then he saw her.

Slumped against the wall by the door to her bedroom, Kathryn was curled tightly, shaking. The sounds of her sobs were quiet, despite her heaving shoulders. Chakotay quickly closed the distance between them, kneeling before her.

"Kathryn?" She was oblivious, her tear stained cheek turned away from him. He reached out to brush her hair from her forehead.

She jumped. Eyes wild, she thrashed out, retreating like a cornered animal. He caught her arm firmly and pulled her back. She cowered from him, her unfocused, unblinking stare, full of fear, driving like a sword through his heart. As Chakotay loosened his grip, he guided her trembling chin so that he could meet her eyes with his. Their deep blue was in turmoil, rolling like the ocean in a storm. Then recognition clicked, and it was as if the seas stilled.

"Chakotay," his name was barely a whisper on her lips as she crumbled, this time burying her head into his shoulder, her hands grasping at the fabric of his uniform, clinging on as though he was about to slip away. She shuddered again, and he wrapped his arms around her tiny form, drawing her closer to his chest.

So fragile. How was this the same, strong woman he had followed for more than three years? It had to be the alternate timeline, when he wasn't on the ship. So much had happened, that was clear by Voyagers state, but how had it caused all of this?

Time slipped by unnoticed as they sat, as Kathryn slowly cried herself out. Chakotay held her, whispered softly in her ear, ran his fingers through her hair, anything he could do to tell her she was safe, that he wasn't going anywhere. The silence that slowly fell between them was calmer, but the hurt was still tangible, emphasised by the persistent twitch in her left hand, as she clenched her fist before releasing it again.

"I lost everything," she croaked as the clatter of the shift change faded from above. She looked up, eyes red raw, their oceans still choppy. He lifted a hand to rest gently on her cheek as she furrowed her brow again.

"I lost my crew. I lost Voyager. I couldn't get them home." She blinked, and in doing so the loss felt by Kathryn dissolved into the determined Captain, angered by her failure. "For what, Chakotay? For what!"

He hushed her quietly, placing his forehead against hers

"You wanted to reset the timeline, and you did. You got your crew back, and Voyager is still rumbling on as usual." Chakotay looked down at the fist curling and stretching on her knee, and folded his hands around it. Her fingers still twitched beneath his, but their rhythm became less frequent. "We are going home."

"Then why does it feel so pointless?" He sighed at the helplessness in her tone and the inadequacy the explanation he had to provide.

"We all experienced a year that never existed, and those memories are still there. Us, the senior crew, though, we have to bear the scars too. We were too close to the reset that it brought us back with them. Your Burns, Tuvok's blindness; we don't know if they will last, and we can only hope that they don't. But we lost so much and worked through it; survived. Now we've got to survive again."

Kathryn's face clouded, pulling her hand free of his. The twitch returned. Her expression was unreadable. Then she was there, her lips so close to his that he could feel her breath mingling with his own. She brushed her nose slightly against his, her voice low and mischievous as her hands danced through his hair, pulling him closer.

"But I don't want to survive. I want to live."

"Kathryn, stop." Chakotay's head was suddenly spinning, his heart screaming against his better judgement.

"Come on Chakotay, what's it going to hurt?"

"You're not in your right state of mind." It took every part of his willpower to place his hands on her shoulders and gently push her away. Her wicked smile fell instantly into a look full of venom.

"Who are you to judge my mind, you..."

"I will not take advantage of you." He cut in, placating her anger by placing his hands on either side of her face. Her insult sizzled out, left unsaid. "You're not well, Kathryn."

He saw the tears forming in her eyes again and took her back into his arms. A glance at the time told him that the Doctor would be here soon. Slowly, he shifted his weight and his hold on her so that he could stand. She felt so light, curled up in his arms.

"Let's get you settled," he murmured softly, noting as all tensions bar that of her left hand melted into a quiet submission. He didn't know how long it would last, but she provided no protest as he carried her to her bed.