Title: Coping
Rating: T
Author: Singing Violin
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Summary: Chakotay suspects something terrible has happened to the captain, and he wants to help, but when he tries, he only makes things worse. Very dark, but not graphic.
Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters and universe are not mine.
Author's Note (Chapter 7): So sorry for the delay on this one. RL kicked my donkey and my donkey kicked back. Not a fun week...and I'm still pretty out of it...but meanwhile, Lia Harkness continues to be her awesome self and beta for me, despite an increasing load of responsibilities of her own and obstacles thrown in her way. Thank you, girl! All remaining errors or other issues are mine. And continuing thanks to all those who have expressed their thoughts about and support for this fic in various ways and asked for more. This is for you.

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Chakotay may have succeeded in calming himself slightly, but he knew instantly that the effect of his words on his companion had been anything but soothing. In the space of a few seconds, Kathryn's countenance transitioned from red to pale to greyish-green, and then, faster than he'd ever seen her move, she threw the blanket towards him and simultaneously slid off the couch and dashed away.

The commander cursed as the harsh sound of retching followed that of hurried footsteps. The cacophony continued for several minutes, during which he felt as if he were frozen in place: every instinct in his body screamed to go to her, to hold her in his arms, to comfort her, but his brain masterfully blocked each urge in turn. You promised not to touch her, he stoically reminded himself. Your presence will not comfort her, he repeated silently, over and over while each time the noise wafted through the room, he cringed.

Finally, she quieted, and only then did he feel safe to rise from his previous position: he made his way towards the bathroom, but stopped outside the door. "Kathryn," he called softly. He almost continued with, "are you okay?" but bit his tongue, as it was a question he already knew the answer to, and doubtless she knew he knew, and would find the question annoying at best. Instead he offered, "Can I get you anything? Help in some way?"

His only response was something between a whimper and a moan. He clenched his fists, deliberating as to what to do next. Finally he spoke again. "May I come in?"

He wasn't really expecting a reply, and certainly not a positive one, but he was surprised to hear a weak, "I guess," coming through the doorway. He rushed in immediately.

She was slumped against the wall next to the commode, her knees once again pressed against her chest with her arms hugging them. She looked exhausted and ill. Still, he did not approach, did not attempt to touch her. As bad as things were, he knew that with the wrong move, he would make them worse.

"I'm so sorry," he tried, squatting down so that he was nearer to her eye level.

She waved him off without meeting his gaze. "Never mind. I should apologize to you."

"For what?" he asked fearfully.

She swiped a hand across her forehead, brushing hair away from her face, looked up at him briefly, then back down again. "Everything."

He sighed, wondering what exactly she thought she'd done wrong, and how exactly he was going to convince her otherwise. One thing was certain: he was going to need help...but she needed to agree to it. "May I take you to Sickbay?" he asked again.

Unsurprisingly, she shook her head, but did not speak.

"Why?" he ventured to ask.

She shook her head again. "I'll be fine. The Doctor can't do much."

"Have you already seen the Doctor?" Chakotay inquired, deliberately avoiding a pronoun to see if the captain would reveal which version she'd seen, if she'd been to Sickbay at all.

Kathryn nodded. "I did. He gave me some hypos, but I just ended up worse off than before once they wore off...and that was when they didn't make me sick right away. The problem's in my head; I have to deal with it there."

"Understood," he conceded, "but that's a bit difficult when the trigger memories aren't even accessible. I really wish you'd have a visit. You don't have to take any more hypos, but there's something there you should see."

"I'm tired," she admitted then, "and," she cringed slightly, "embarrassed. Any chance you'll leave me be and forget this whole thing happened?"

Now it was his turn to shake his head. "You wouldn't do that to any member of your crew who was hurting," he pointed out. "And I'm not going to do it to you."

She raised her eyebrows. "Does that mean you've reconsidered taking over?"

He nodded hesitantly, noting internally that his knees and thighs were starting to ache. "Only if you still want me to...and if you see the Doctor first," he insisted. "I can't in good faith relieve you of duty without an official medical opinion, for one thing."

She rolled her eyes at him, indicating that she saw through his excuse and knew exactly what he was trying to do. She also looked like she was about to fall over, and he was banking on the assumption that she'd be too exhausted to continue arguing with him.

He was right.

"Fine," she agreed. "I'll go."

"Can you walk?" he asked kindly, not sure what he'd do if the answer were negative. Emergency transport perhaps...

"I think so," she responded dubiously, then grabbed the toilet seat and hoisted herself up on unsteady legs. He resisted the urge to reach out and steady her, but gratefully rose to his feet as well with a small grunt. He watched silently as she stumbled to the sink, rinsed her mouth, and splashed water on her face while the waste receptacle automatically detected her departure and dematerialized the putrid output of her digestive system.

She seemed to realize that he wasn't going to let her make the journey on her own, but she didn't specifically ask him to accompany her: she merely turned on her heel and headed out towards the back door of the ready room, clearly not wanting to be seen on the bridge in her current state. He prepared to use his significantly larger body to block her from the view of any passing crewmen, but thankfully the hallway was barren as they made their way to the turbolift in silence and waited for it to arrive. The bedraggled captain stepped in first, followed by her first officer, who, after a few moments of awkward silence, decided to make the order. "Deck five."

Chakotay then tapped his communicator. "Sickbay, please initiate the secondary holographic doctor program, if it isn't running already. I will be arriving with a patient momentarily."

An unfamiliar female voice responded, "Acknowledged."

Kathryn looked up towards him questioningly, silently imploring him to explain what was going on.

He refused, instead addressing the unspoken question, but not fully answering it, as he figured it would be easier to show her directly. "You'll see."

As the doors opened and they entered, the commander trailing the captain by a few decimeters, Janeway was visibly taken aback at the sight of the unfamiliar hologram, cementing Chakotay's assumption that she had not been to sickbay since B'Elanna had programmed it. She shrank slightly towards her first officer, and he had to step slightly away to avoid inadvertent contact. I promised not to touch her, he reminded himself once again as he felt off-balance, moving in exactly the opposite way from that to which he was accustomed.

He turned to his captain. "If it's all right with you, I'd like to stay," he told her. "But I'll leave if you need me to. I'll just need a report from the Doctor afterwards."

Kathryn sighed. "It's okay, Chakotay. You dragged me here. You might as well stay."

He smiled slightly as he spoke, "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

The lady doctor grinned at them then and introduced herself. "Hello, Captain. I'm the new EMH. Mark 1.1 if you will. Female, obviously. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Nervously, the commander watched his captain, noting that this hologram's personality was not a significant change from that of the male original, and wondering whether the captain's response could possibly be any different. Still, he was relieved to see her relax slightly and glance towards him for reassurance before speaking.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor," she started, clearly trying to calm herself down more than anything else: niceties were obviously an easy place to start: dictated, formal, prescribed. No chance for error, no chance to evoke anxiety. This was good. But would she open up to this new persona? He honestly had no idea.

She took a deep breath and then got straight to the point. "I need you to relieve me of duty, Doctor," she stated solidly, and then relaxed further, as if an enormous weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Chakotay watched with mounting concern.

"Are you ill?" asked the womanly hologram.

"Yes...er, I'm not sure," she stammered, visibly losing courage.

Chakotay interjected, "She's experiencing symptoms of acute stress, which haven't responded to standard treatments."

"I see," said the hologram lightly, shooting a disapproving glare at the first officer, as if to say: please don't speak for my patient. Then she turned back to Kathryn. "Captain, do you concur, and if so, do you know the cause of your symptoms?"

"Yes and no," she answered. These were apparently easy questions, though she did not elaborate.

"All right," said the blonde woman, "I'll need you to lie down on the biobed, and I'm going to put a neural monitor on you. Let's see if we can't get to the heart of this, shall we?"

Obediently, Janeway hoisted herself up and lay down, closing her eyes as the instrument was placed upon her forehead.

Under other circumstances, Chakotay might have held her hand, but instead, he placed his hands on his hips and waited patiently as the silence was broken only by the soft beeps and whirrs of the medical equipment.

Finally, the female doctor spoke. "Well, at least I know why you don't remember," she informed the captain. "Your brain has been altered to block a particular set of memory engrams."

"Who would do that?" Chakotay asked, almost ready to go to war with the culprit, as they seemed to have caused the captain so much pain and suffering.

"From the signature," the hologram explained, "it was almost certainly done right here in Sickbay, most likely by myself, or to be more specific, my male alter-ego. However, I have no record of the procedure."

"So not only did you perform the surgery, but you erased your memory of it? Who would order you to do such a thing?" He spoke without thinking, but the captain answered him with what he would have already known, had he stopped to consider the evidence.

Tears were trickling down her cheeks and towards her ears, and her voice was faint. "I would."

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