All charm and warmth, Chakotay offered his arm. "May I escort you to dinner?"

Supremely conscious of B'Elanna's raised eyebrows, Janeway briefly patted his shoulder. "Just a moment, Commander. Lieutenant Torres and I were considering the need to increase power to the magnetic converters surrounding the warp core."

Taking the hint, he nodded and clasped his hands together behind his back, stepping down to the main floor a couple meters away.

B'Elanna, whose mag-lock boots had given out earlier that day, swung in Janeway's direction, using the railing around the core as her anchor. "I can give you a report with my suggestions, instead, Captain –"

"That won't be necessary," Janeway responded, perhaps a pinch more harshly than the situation required. She took a breath while letting her eyes rest on the pulsing core, then continued in a calmer manner. "I'd like you to make those modifications, B'Elanna. If ship systems are going to start failing, I'd rather our engines don't become one of them. We don't want any further rifts opening up in here, either."

Chakotay's boots whirred almost inaudibly over the ambient noise of engineering. He stamped them against the ground to stop the sound; by now, the whole crew was acquainted with the process. When the whirring started, a few quick stomps would reset the magnetic alignment, but even so it would be a matter of hours before the boots failed entirely.

B'Elanna floated toward Janeway more closely while Chakotay was distracted by the boots. "Captain," she whispered, "He adores you."

Janeway snapped her head at B'Elanna. It was unusual for her to encourage any sort of romance, regardless of the subjects, but she supposed it was possible B'Elanna was thinking about it because of her desire to have Tom back. Janeway teetered between wanting to ask questions and closing the subject completely, and consequently, she wound up giving B'Elanna what she hoped was a passively inquiring look.

Maybe it was for the best that B'Elanna seemed slightly abashed by what she had told Janeway – she backed up a bit and continued at a normal volume, "What systems would you like me to divert the extra power from, Captain?"

Noticing Chakotay smiling patiently at her from a couple of meters away, Janeway fought to clear her head at warp speed. "All the usual non-essentials, plus whatever's left over from the loss of artificial grav. Just don't take any from structural containment or sensors. How long do you estimate this will take?"

"No more than three hours."

"Good. Do it."

"Aye, Captain." B'Elanna glanced at Chakotay again, then gave Janeway a surreptitious smirk. "She's all yours, Chakotay!"

Janeway restrained herself from pointing out the breech in protocol – it was the Captain who should dismiss her subordinates, yet B'Elanna had dismissed her. Given the circumstances, voicing her concerns would probably do more harm than good. Calling attention to Chakotay's infatuation with her in front of the crew, however subtly, would have negative effects for both of them. She shushed the inner voice that accused her of rationalizing again.

As Chakotay plodded up toward the platform, Janeway figured he couldn't possibly hear a whisper over the ambient noise of engineering, so she quietly asked B'Elanna, "Did he tell you that?" It was important to determine whether Chakotay was openly discussing the possibility of a relationship with her.

"He didn't have to," B'Elanna breathed back, looking startled that she had asked at all.

Janeway didn't buy it. She searched B'Elanna's eyes for the answer. Chakotay had only been acting this way for a few days, and then mostly in private. How could B'Elanna have picked up on his feelings after so short a time without speaking to him about it? Unless Chakotay had alluded to it in conversation – it was possible, Janeway conjectured, that he had mentioned something about velocity last night or the gift he had promised her while talking with B'Elanna this week. Having known him longer than anyone on Voyager, B'Elanna certainly would have been able to intuit his feelings.

Chakotay reached the platform smiling and held his arm out for Janeway once again. "I hope you'll excuse my interruption – I was worried about dinner getting cold."

With a final discerning glimpse at B'Elanna, Janeway took his arm. She peeked up at him only briefly; his clean, comforting scent assailed her. Avoiding time alone with him all day had done nothing to quench her attraction, except perhaps to exponentially increase her anticipation of dinner. "I'm sure it will be perfect, as always."

"Shall we?"

As they trekked out of engineering, she became self-conscious of the furtive glances crew members darted at them. She didn't catch anyone staring directly, but worried they would draw conclusions from the way Chakotay was escorting her. However – this was normal, basically. The crew was used to seeing them walk together in this fashion.

"You're rather quiet this evening," Chakotay pointed out in the corridor. "Is everything alright?"

She sighed. Letting this insecurity preoccupy her twisted her stomach into knots. They had started dining together every week to celebrate, so she couldn't bring herself to the table carrying this baggage. She really ought to turn it to her advantage. If Chakotay insisted on flirting with her, what harm would come of simply flirting back? She could have at least that much without breeching protocol.

She wondered at what point her rationalizing would become deliberation.

Ready to expel her negative thoughts, yet unable to drop them entirely, she looked over her shoulder to the corridor behind them. They were alone. "Captain's stresses. Let's leave it at that. But you know what would make me feel better?"

"I can guess," he grinned. "You want that present."

She playfully bumped his side. "I've waited for twenty-four long hours, Chakotay. It's fraying my nerves." They entered the turbo lift. "Deck three."

"I see. You're saying that if I don't give it to you now, you'll have a mental collapse?"

"That's right."

"And if you suffer from said mental collapse, you'll be unable to command?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far." She pursed her lips as she made eye contact.

"So you'd attempt to retain the captaincy even while mentally deranged?"

"Deranged?"

"Thereby endangering the ship and crew? So the fate of Voyager rests in my ability to give you this gift without further delay?"

Her free hand went to her hip and she maintained a straight face. She gave him a half-nod, just a tip of her chin. "When I'm deranged, you're the first person I'll come after with a phaser rifle, and I ain't settin' it to stun."

The journey from the lift to Chakotay's door was swift. "I was thinking of giving it to you tomorrow."

"By tomorrow, I hope you mean in five minutes."

He rested his hand on the small of her back while they entered his quarters. The gesture made her feel a sliver more graceful than the boots usually allowed. "Or maybe the end of the week?" he said.

"Perhaps a photon torpedo would do the trick."

"If you blow me up, you'll never get the present." He guided her to her seat and pulled out the chair. Chakotay's table setting was more minimal than hers, but the food always tasted better. He busied himself in lifting the covers off three dishes and setting the heat-preserving items aside.

"Hm. I've reconsidered. The gift can wait until after we eat – this smells wonderful. Mmm! Is that what I think it is?" One of the bowls held a beautiful, steaming orange liquid under a glass lid with a magnetized rim.

He sat down and pulled a belt out from the chair, fastening it around his lap so he could remain in the seat without using his hands. She did the same, then removed her shell and set it in the air behind her. "I remembered," he said, "Last week you mentioned that cafe on Market Street where you used to drink coffee and eat the galaxy's best butternut squash soup. You sounded like you would just about melt into a puddle if you could have some."

Excited, she tugged the magnetized bowl off the table, lifted the secondary lid, and took a deep whiff. "Mmm. I just might. I don't know why you ever let me cook, Chakotay."

"I don't anymore. I let you replicate."

"Touché."

She could almost believe he'd sensed her unease last night and decided to back off. Half an hour passed, filled with similar light-hearted conversation and the usual exchange of routine information about the ship and crew. Because of the unique gravitational situation, they ate the food straight out of the serving bowls, periodically passing a dish across the table.

Mealtime, Janeway decided at one point, was the best time to be sporting this ponytail.

"You okay?" Chakotay inquired.

"I'm eating your food, Chakotay. Somehow, you manage to finesse the replicator in ways I can't even dream of. I'm better than okay. Why do you ask?" She took another bite of the roasted portobello – it was juicy with a balsamic marinade. "Mm!"

Gesturing toward her head with his salad fork, he explained, "You keep touching your hair. Did you get it cut?"

"No." She shrugged, slightly embarrassed to have been caught in such a silly tic. "It's a different style, so it's hard to get used to."

He studied her for a moment, chewing on his salad. "You don't like it."

"You know me well."

"Kathryn," he said, swallowing and shaking his head against her dislike, "It looks great."

She gave him a gracious smile. "Thank you." Eager to change the subject, she cast about for something else to compliment, and wound up raising the bottle in her hand. "This pinot noir is phenomenal, Chakotay. I'm almost glad for the lack of gravity – drinking it out of the bottle probably isn't a good idea for a starship captain, but I appear to have no choice!"

"You can make a note in your log that the First Officer advised you to do so in the interest of preserving the cleanliness of your uniform."

"Are you more interested in my uniform than my ability to command?" After another small swig, she re-corked the bottle, plugged it onto the table and picked up the salad.

He grinned widely. "Kathryn… you're already feeling the wine, aren't you?"

She was. "No. Not at all."

He scooped up the bottle. "I have some catching up to do."

"Chakotay. Be reasonable. We've been sitting here for… what. Ten minutes?" Beginning to chuckle, she ignored his quiet insistence that it had been thirty. "How could I be tipsy after ten minutes?"

"Would you like me to count the ways?" His free hand went up in a fist, and as he tagged each reason, a new finger sprouted. "One: you're drinking out of a bottle. Two: that's not synthehol, it's the real deal."

"You didn't tell me that! Where have you been hiding this?"

He cut over her objection, still clearly enjoying himself. "Three: it's been half an hour since you started drinking alcohol out of a bottle."

"Fifteen minutes."

"Four: you have a very low tolerance for alcohol." His head tilted at the four fingers. "I rest my case."

She snapped the salad onto the table, leaned back, and crossed her arms haughtily. "Alright," she said while he was mid-sip. "You're into your cups too, Chakotay. I cite all the same reasons."

He licked his lips. "You're reaching."

"Oh, you think so?" Turning her head slightly, she picked one shoulder up for a second while running her tongue over her teeth. "Then why are your pupils ever so slightly dilated?"

"It's dark."

She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table. "Not dark enough. And why would you interrogate me about the possibility that I'm intoxicated?"

"It's my job."

Doubtful, she narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. Chakotay attempted a straight face, but couldn't seem to keep hints of a smile from popping up.

Pressing her advantage, she raised her eyebrow. She had no intention of losing this battle. The seconds ticked by as she stared him down, waiting for him to crack.

Finally, he swung the bottle up to take a giant gulp.

When she burst out laughing, he nearly choked as wine sprayed out of his mouth in uncontrolled mirth. He corked the bottle and half-coughed, half-chuckled while they both used napkins to catch the stray droplets that shimmered above the candlelight.

Once her laughter subsided, she inquired, "Tell me, Chakotay, what's your motivation for serving alcohol this evening?"

His smiling eyes traveled from her own down to the table while he considered. "I suppose… I wanted to hear you laugh." He looked back up at her.

Through the haze of the wine she retained enough common sense to know she must be very careful of her next words. If only he would tell her why he was suddenly behaving like this now after five years, she might be more at ease.

Then again, it was entirely possible she was reading too much into this supposed odd conduct, and Chakotay had sincerely felt a change of heart. Except she couldn't believe that he'd only just developed feelings for her – deep down, she knew he'd always wanted her. So why act on it now?

The silence had stretched for too long. She traced the shape of the soup's lid with her finger. "I do enjoy a good laugh. Thank you. This dinner is, as always, phenomenal, both in food and in company." She raised her gaze to meet his and walked the line, pulse racing. "If I had a wine glass I would offer you a toast, Chakotay."

The moment glowed with the warmth between the two of them. "I'll drink to that," he quipped, and took another sip.

Her laughter was easy and genuine. "Leave some for me!"

"Is that an order?"

"Absolutely."

He corked the bottle and gently propelled it at her; she caught it and took a small swig. This time the silence was comfortable as she replaced the wine on the table and leaned back to pat her stomach.

"Mind if I ask you a personal question?" he said in a way that made her suspect he had been waiting to pose the query for some time. It sounded too artificial to be offhand.

"By all means."

Chakotay scratched his neck and addressed the table. "… Kashyk."

She waited for a question, but to no avail. Interesting, how Chakotay's obvious jealousy could jolt her with such a deep rush of affection for him. If she was honest with herself, the feeling was more than simple affection. She couldn't help smiling, though she tried not to let it show. "You want the full story? All you ever had to do was ask."

"You wouldn't believe the rumors that went around about the two of you." His eyes climbed slowly, from the table, to her torso – she felt her face burn – to her neck, mouth, and finally eyes. "I worried you'd be offended or closed-off if I brought it up."

"Not if you asked me, Chakotay." She crossed her arms on the edge of the table and leaned toward him. Grinning self-mockingly at the memory of her conduct with Kashyk, she offered, "I was… deluded. Terribly. I had gone without a relationship for so long, and when I realized I wanted to be close to someone – well, you know me, I make an irreversible split-second decision based on the available evidence and my gut feeling. I went for it truly believing his façade in my heart, but not in my head. We shared one perfect kiss…" The words trailed off as she tried to remember it, but she couldn't meet Chakotay's eyes. "And after that, you know the rest. Tricking him was undeniably satisfying. But I wish I could say I had been faking those feelings. Part of me is ashamed."

"You certainly can't help feeling fond of somebody, Kathryn. The way I see it, it's how you act on those feelings that matters."

The wine sat forgotten on the table. When she re-established eye contact with him, he was leaning in her direction, close enough to reach out and touch. "What would you have done?" she asked. "I hardly know the ropes half as well as you."

For some reason, this question inspired Chakotay to grin. "I don't know them half as well as you think."

She let her eyebrow do the talking.

He sighed. "If I were Kashyk?"

She'd meant if Chakotay had been in her shoes, but she held her peace. It was easier to remain silent and allow him the possibility of breaking the barrier than it would be for her to make the decision herself.

"I would have taken you up on your offer to stay onboard. I would have been more than happy to be in your company." His eyes glittered in the candlelight. The extra words he was refusing to say were written on his face.

"And if you had been me?"

He tilted his head slightly. "That's tricky."

The corner of her lip curled upward. "Oh?"

"I'd have to walk the fine line between being a real person with desires of my own, and being a superhuman captain in charge of the safety of an entire starship."

"Sounds about right."

"And that would make me feel trapped, like I couldn't acknowledge my own feelings and had to wait for the right person to come along and take the first step."

She swallowed. Her palms were slick against the table and she could feel her heart thrumming. Terrified and exhilarated, she spoke words she would never have uttered if she were sober. "What if the right person never took the first step?"

The unhidden yearning in his eyes took her breath away. It was as though it had been there all this time, for years, but only now did Chakotay remove the screen that hid it. His brows were raised slightly over low, blinking eyelids. His lips were barely parted and closed after a loud swallow. "I'm sure he would never forgive himself."

She beamed, a tidal wave of adoration coursing through her. "Now you finally understand how hard it is to be the Captain."

He reached for her hand and began to say, "Kathryn," when her combadge erupted with finality. "Torres to the Captain. You'd better get down here. We've got another rift, and it's growing in size."

He gave her one last look so filled with longing that she nearly ignored the call. They unhooked themselves from the chairs and rose together. She swiftly pulled her shell back on. In a move that seemed so very Chakotay, he offered his arm like nothing had changed and said, "It's even harder to be her First Officer."

Once again, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and cocked her head. "Acknowledged." Then, to Chakotay, to whom she wished she could say so much more, she simply stated, "You owe me a present."

Before leaving, they caught sight of the window – all the stars had vanished.