For Disclaimers, thank-you's, dedications, and acknowledgements please see part 1.
Janeway blinked her eyes open and squinted against the glare from the overhead light. Had that been on earlier? She heard a clink and turned her head to the side. He was sitting in the chair watching her. Shit. She hadn't even heard him come in this time.
"Ho…," was all she managed before she had to stop. Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. She tried again and her voice came out as a harsh whisper. "How long have you been in here?"
"Long enough," he said, reaching down and lifting a bottle off the floor. He poured pale green liquid into the glass he was holding. The bottle and glass clinked together, and Janeway recognized the noise. That's what she had heard. That meant he was already on at least his second glass of something that she was pretty sure was not coffee.
Gritting her teeth, she raised herself up on one elbow. She had to steady herself before she could go any further, but the captain in her was determined to at least be sitting upright as long as he was in the room. He sipped his drink and watched quietly as she struggled until her back was against the wall. She was breathing hard from the exertion, but when she looked up at him her eyes still held the same contempt as they had since day one.
He finished his drink and sneered at her. "You piss me off, Janeway."
She had leveraged herself against the wall that her hand was shackled to, so she had to turn her head to the left if she wanted to see him properly. She didn't bother. "I hear that a lot."
"I really wanted to kill you earlier." He refilled his glass and set the bottle on the floor again.
"I know," she said. She shifted slightly, gritting her teeth against the movement, and frowned at the grotesque angle of her leg. When he didn't continue, she turned to look at him. "Why didn't you?"
He stared at her for long enough that she didn't think he was going to answer the question. She leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. If he didn't want to talk, she wasn't going to sit here and be his entertainment.
"It wouldn't have been professional to kill you then," he finally responded. Without moving her head, Janeway shifted her eyes in his direction.
"I guess you'd rather kill me when there are no personal feelings involved," she commented tiredly.
"Exactly." He almost seemed happy that she understood that. Janeway guessed that whatever he was drinking, this was not his first bottle. "You know, you are probably the first person I've ever had in this situation that hasn't begged me to spare their life."
She gave a small shrug. "It wouldn't help."
"Nope, it sure wouldn't." He finished the drink a third time and leaned forward. "But most people would try. Most women would offer to do just about anything, if only I'd let them go."
Rolling her head to the side so she could face him, she spoke. "I'm not most women."
He studied her for a moment, still leaning forward. "Do you want to die, Janeway?"
She frowned and lifted her head away from the wall, "No, I don't want to die."
He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his chin. Janeway felt a small pang of satisfaction when she noticed his chin was bruised and slightly swollen. Refilling the glass, he held it out to her. "Have a drink with me, Janeway."
She eyed the glass but made no move to take it. "No."
"Come on." He continued to hold the glass out to her. "It'll make that leg feel better."
"It's not the drink I oppose," she clarified. "It's the company."
He let out a short bark of laughter and set the glass on the floor next to her shackled hand. "Just think of it as being medicinal."
She was incredibly thirsty. A phrase her grandmother used to say came to mind, I'm so thirsty I could spit cotton. The muscles in her leg twitched bringing her back to the present and causing her to clench her jaw. He was watching her again waiting to see what she would do. She reached across her body with her free hand and picked up the glass. He nodded and took a drink straight from the bottle.
"Normally," she said, sniffing the drink. It had a fruity smell to it. "I would never drink with someone when I didn't even know their name."
He waited until she had taken a sip before he answered, "You don't really think I'm going to tell you my name, do you?"
"No," she said, swallowing. The first taste went down easily enough, so she tried another mouthful. "But you could tell me something to call you."
"Alright," he said and leaned forward again. "Why don't you call me….Chakotay?"
She glared at him, and her hand tightened around the glass she was holding. "I will not."
He noticed the white-knuckle grip she had on the glass. "If you do anything with that glass besides drink from it, I will break every single bone in both of your hands."
Janeway looked away from him and forced herself to relax the death grip she had on the glass. She'd been close to throwing the drink in his face. The very idea of calling him…she drained half the glass, relishing the feel of the liquid sliding down her throat.
He leaned over and refilled her glass. "What is it with you and him? And don't tell me he's just one of your officers."
She held the glass to her lips and spoke over the rim. "He's just one of my officers."
"Right." He took another swig from the bottle. "And I'm just a nice guy."
They drank in silence each lost in their own thoughts. Janeway had just finished the contents of her glass when her leg shuddered again with another muscle spasm. She sucked in air through her teeth and dug her other heel into the mattress letting the glass slip from her hand. She heard him set the bottle down and then his hands were on her leg as he crouched down beside her. She immediately tried to move away from him.
"What are you…" She wasn't able to finish the question before he suddenly jerked her injured leg. She cried out, completely unprepared, and tried to move away, planting her fists into the padding of the mattress. He gave another pull on it, and white pain exploded behind her eyes. Janeway couldn't even scream as her vision tunneled, and her world turned to black.