Repair teams had barely touched the mess hall. Chakotay didn't blame them. Not only was it unessential to the ship's functioning, but he wouldn't know where to begin restoring it. The floor extended two meters beyond the force fields because so much of the hull had been torn off, and the kitchen had been sucked clean before the breech had been sealed. Every bulkhead was cracked, buckled, or broken – the only thing holding the room together was the structural integrity field.

He floated unhurriedly to a small open space by the force field and watched warped stars approach and fly past for a few minutes. Like in many parts of Voyager, the environmental controls were slightly off. It was chilly enough for Chakotay to see his breath.

Now that he was here, he found that he enjoyed having a refreshing moment to himself. The images this room conjured were less pleasant: Neelix, again, pried savagely into the vacuous energy; the Delta Flyer, ripped open in one too many places, the hull failing; Tom, Tuvok and Seven torn into multi-dimensional rifts one at a time, watching each other die.

Chakotay knew, without a doubt, that the away team was dead. The evidence against their survival was too strong. Janeway and B'Elanna needed to come to that conclusion on their own… but it might be time for him to help them on their journey there. One might be easier than the other.

His heart started racing when he reviewed his conversation with Janeway from this morning. Was she in denial about the Delta Flyer? More importantly, was she really going to fly solo into the dark energy? And how could that bring back the dead? He decided to keep a close eye on her – the second she showed any signs of preparing to leave, he'd stop her. They'd already lost four senior officers. Losing the Captain as well would ruin the crew, First Officer included.

He heard a long beep from behind him. A pair of hands forced the starboard door open and B'Elanna's head popped through. "Oh," she said, once it had opened completely. "Want me to find somewhere else to contemplate the meaning of life, or can I join you?"

"Come on in," he answered, then turned back toward the force field. "How are you doing?"

He listened as she picked over the debris and made her way to a diagonal bulkhead adjacent to the one he had anchored himself to. "Never better. You?"

"Seriously, B'Elanna."

She sighed, anguished. "I don't want to talk about it." When she saw his skeptical expression, she dipped her head with attitude. "Seriously."

"I don't think they're coming back," he stated gently.

"That's… why I don't want to talk about it." She crossed her arms and blinked at the stars. "If this is all you have to say, I'll go back to engineering and punch Ensign Vorik in the face. I came up here to clear my head."

"Fine. Should we discuss redecorating?"

She breathed a laugh. "Please. It would be easier to chop the whole mess hall off the ship."

"Unfortunately, that's the same conclusion I came to, but I'm under orders to fix it without jettison."

"What'd you do to get stuck on repair duty?" she smirked.

"Don't tell me you heard it too."

"Chakotay, everyone's heard it. She's pissed. And the crew is probably happy to have something other than their… dead friends to talk about." B'Elanna's voice caught on the difficult word, but she plowed through as if to prove she could handle saying it without emotion.

He couldn't believe his relationship with Janeway was really that interesting to the crew. It was true, a couple of hours after their exchange in astrometrics, she had ordered him off the bridge and into the mess hall to whip it into shape. Now that he was here, he wondered if she had sent him out of anger, or because she hadn't wanted to be "tempted" by him.

"When does anyone have time to talk about trivialities?" Chakotay asked B'Elanna. "I've slept about seven hours total since we escaped the dark energy and other than that I've been working non-stop."

"Do you lose the ability to speak while performing manual labor?"

He had to smile, albeit half-heartedly. "Sounds like I need to crack down on gossip."

"Come on. Inquiring minds. You could at least confide in me."

He shot her a glance and saw the miniature clouds of her breath silhouetted against the inky black beyond the force field. He didn't respond. She had to know he didn't talk about his friendship – or whatever it was – with Janeway.

"I know you hate to kiss and tell, but –"

"Excuse me?" he said. "Since when does B'Elanna Torres care about other peoples' relationships?"

"– But honestly, Chakotay, I could use a good distraction." She sniffed as the cold started affecting her nose. He could tell there was truth to her words. Dark circles had cropped up under eyes lately.

"What did Vorik do to you? Must have been pretty bad if you're trying to pry into my thoughts."

She seemed to realize he wasn't going to divulge. "Told me it was illogical to postpone the acceptance of my mate's death. And that Tom was probably…" Her mouth slid up to the side and she shook her head. "Well, he told me how he guessed Tom had probably died."

"I'm surprised you haven't already punched Vorik in the face." Chakotay envied the Vulcans at times like these, as he was sure everyone did. But that didn't make their discourtesy any easier to swallow.

"I… may have chucked a damaged plasma manifold at his head."

"Lieutenant!"

"He dodged it!"

Chakotay eyed her sternly. "You can't go around throwing heavy objects at crew members. If you need time off, take it. Better that than injuring somebody."

Her shoulders traveled up to her ears. "Voyager can't afford to give me time off!" She brought her voice down and seemed to regain some confidence. "It won't happen again. Like I said, I came up here to cool down. Once that manifold left my fingers, I knew I had to get Vorik out of my sight for a while. I'll be fine." She winced. "You gonna tell the Captain? I don't want to stress her out any more than she already is."

He turned back to the force field, contemplating whether there was any answer he could give that wouldn't lead to B'Elanna asking further questions about what had transpired with Janeway. He settled on a simple, "No."

"You must not be telling her much of anything lately, huh?"

A brusque tilt of his head was all the reply he gave her.

"You would feel better if you got it off your chest, Chakotay. I saw the way you were buttering her up a few days ago. What happened? She douse your advances with the Starfleet protocol wet blanket?"

"Not exactly. I'll tell you, but this stays between –"

"I won't tell a soul."

He tucked his numbing fingers under his arms. She had figured most of it out already, anyway. So, in a quiet voice, he told her, "She has feelings for me, but she believes they distracted her into losing the fourteen crew members. She's avoided me like the plague since we cleared the dark energy."

"Wow." B'Elanna sniffled and rubbed her hands on her crossed arms. "She must really want you badly if she has to avoid you just to focus on the ship. I'm sorry, Chakotay." He heard the pain in her voice as she tried to separate her grief from her sympathy for him. In her view, it must have been unfair – how even though Chakotay couldn't really have Janeway, at least the one he wanted was alive and well.

"It's not so bad," he said, shrugging. It was a lie, but given the circumstances, he felt driven to say it anyway.

"Yes, it is," she replied vehemently. "You deserve to be happy."

Sometimes Chakotay felt he was getting kicked around no matter what he did. He shook his head.

"You love her, don't you?"

He didn't have to respond; he knew it was written all over his face.