Disclaimer: ST: VOY isn't mine. Currently, I am the proud owner of a fresh heap of frustration courtesy of a delay in the release of my grades.

Author's Note: Yes, xkawaiix, it was Caramelldansen. :) To be specific, the Speedycake remix. Actually, listened to it again while straightening this out.

Volatile
By mistress amethyst une

Part 4: War and Peace

"And don't forget to pick up her medication tomorrow," said the doctor as a last minute reminder. "There may not be an instant cure but we can hasten the healing process. A report on her condition would also be nice, Commander. Enjoy your time off, Captain."

Chakotay grudgingly nodded as Kathryn glared at the hologram. He needed to make a hasty exit, to get out of there before she did something rash against the EMH. Chakotay knew that the doctor had struck a nerve with her with that little comment.

Sighing, he reflected on an exit strategy. She was still hardly able to stand, and there was no way he was taking the risk of playing her human crutch. He'd already been coughed on enough. Besides, he was quite sure neither of them wanted the mutual embarrassment of walking Voyager's decks, both of them looking like hell, one of them appearing so because of the other.

He requested a site-to-site transport to her quarters. Thankfully, this time around he knew to take her in his arms before shimmering out of Sickbay. He'd already let her end up face down on the floor once; a second time was simply inexcusable. He made sure to shut his eyes tightly as she had another coughing fit on him. They left Sickbay and arrived in her quarters safe and sound.

He had to give her credit for not doing him any worse than thoroughly dirtying his uniform and bathing his face in phlegm. She could have easily struggled in his arms, kicked him, flailed and slapped him. Then again, that might have been because it would have caused him to accidentally drop her, and Kathryn Janeway was not a big fan of unnecessary injury. Actually, Kathryn wasn't keen on violence, at least not the physical sort, not when the situation didn't warrant it. No, she was keen on other forms of violence. He didn't know what to call the type of violence she was exercising against him with all that coughing. He just knew it was violence, and despite how well he was tolerating it, he was fairly certain that he wasn't enjoying it one bit. Damned dragon woman spewing on him...sticky, warm, thick liquid that came in a disgusting array of colors: yellow, brown, and green all mixed together. He definitely needed to take a sonic shower and replicate a new uniform after putting her down.

Pulling the sheets back from her bed, he first sat her down and got down on his knees to pull off her boots and socks. He then got up to help her lie down before tucking her in. She rasped at him. Curses, he assumed. He turned from her before walking a few paces away, safely out of coughing range.

"You owe me a shower," he declared, his back to her. "I'm not going out there like this, and we're not wasting any more energy on site-to-site transports. And yes, I know I live next door. Perfectly aware that hardly anyone will see me if I go to my own quarters. But I'm keeping an eye on you, at least for tonight. The doctor's relieved you for three days. I'm going to make sure you're relieved for at least one of them, and all three if I can muster it. Do you understand?"

He paused, hearing her rasping and coughing behind him again.

"I'm going to pretend you're nodding back there, and I'm taking that as a yes."

He went up to her replicator and got himself a new uniform. Unlike her, he still had a night shift to attend to. That is, after he'd put her to bed.

Before cleaning himself up, he saw fit to also get her a pitcher of ice water, a box of tissues and a waste basket. Those were the best quick fixes he could think of, knowing she would be dehydrated by the fever and that she would need to expel that phlegm. He'd observed her swallowing on the bridge and knew that it couldn't have been good for her.

Once again, he turned to her, approaching with caution. Pouring her a glass, he left the pitcher on her bedside table with the tissue box so both would be within reach, and she wouldn't need to get up. He placed the wastebasket in close proximity to her bed too.

She was still coughing as she took the glass from him. Drinking greedily, she was unceremoniously interrupted by a stray cough that had her choking on the water, spraying him and making her spit up in the glass. He stroked her back, making sure she was breathing right. He then proceeded to get her a fresh glass and carefully brought the water to her lips so she could drink properly. They didn't need words. As he set the glass down on the table, she gave him a weak smile. It was good to know she was done killing him. At least for now...

He went off to her bathroom and took a quick shower before hurriedly changing into his new uniform. Feeling fresh and clean, he wondered what else he needed to do. He wasn't sure of her nightly routine. Would he need to help her out of bed so she could bathe before sleeping? That would certainly help lower her fever. Then again, there was the chance she'd lose consciousness in the tub. Unless she was willing to let him watch her...no, there was absolutely no chance in hell she'd let him watch her. Appealing as the image was, it would always remain just that, an image in his mind. Well, except for the one time he'd seen her in a towel but that was years ago, a moment they'd long put behind them. Maybe he could just ask her, possibly help her with whatever she said she needed. He was quite sure it was safe to do that. She'd given every indication that the drink he'd given her was a sufficient peace offering so there was now a low risk of fluidic attack on the phlegm front.

He approached her bedside. She was now rolling around quite fitfully in a state of half-sleep, eyes closed and struggling for the painless oblivion of slumber. Unaware of anything but the darkness beneath her eyelids, a darkness she was pleading with to engulf her, she felt him easing her uniform jacket off her, pulling off the turtleneck underneath so she could comfortably sleep in her tank top. It didn't occur to her to resist. As the air hit her heated skin, she heaved a sigh of relief knowing sleep wouldn't be as unaattainable a goal as it had been a few moments ago.

He lay her clothes on an empty chair. Knowing he would be late if he didn't leave soon, he asked the computer to lower the temperature in the room by a few degrees and to further dim the lights so she could have as restful a night as possible.

"Sleep well, Kathryn," he whispered as he left, the doors of her quarters hissing shut behind him.

He made a mental note to visit her after the night shift, and of course, that quick stop to Sickbay in the morning for her meds. He supposed that he also had to make sure she got some breakfast, and-

He sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to focus during this shift. He scolded himself for worrying. She was a grown woman, and it was just a cold and fever. She wasn't dying. Besides, he'd already gone above and beyond the call of duty for a subordinate. He'd made sure she'd gotten rest and proper treatment, and had even personally seen to her comfort despite her...resistance. Well, of course he had. He was her best friend. That was what best friends did. He scolded himself for scolding himself about worrying. He had every right to worry. She was ill, and he cared about her. It was a perfectly normal reaction.

Yes, being her best friend was the reason why he worried, why he wasn't the least bit angry about being coughed at and spit on, why he'd gone and been foolhardy in drugging her so she could be treated, why his every thought was now filled with the need to take care of her. It was all because he was her best friend, all because he wanted and still hoped to be something more than that, all because he knew he couldn't let himself be more than that because she'd made it clear that best friends were all they could ever be.

For a second, he thought of ceasing to hope and being content with the relationship he currently had with her. Then he made one last mental note: to never entertain that thought again.

Whew, that was a doozy to write. Grr...still in suspense about that damn math grade. Damn electronic grade release system...