DISCLAIMER: Everything of any worth belongs to Paramount.

AUTHOR: Riverhawk

NOTES: For Mab13j

Part 11 – Darkest Hour

Chakotay felt his way along the damp, sometimes slimy wall. He knew every inch of those walls by touch now. But what he was looking for was the rough etching of tallied marks that he had scratched into the wall in the far left corner at around chest height. His fingers found the markings, traced along to the last one, and carefully next to it, Chakotay began another.

Fifteen. He had etched fifteen now. Every morning, or what he supposed to be morning, he etched one on the wall as soon as he had finished his daily portion of the gruel served for breakfast. So, he thought to himself as he slid back down the wall and rested on his haunches, he had been here at least fifteen days, where ever here was.

If he added on a few days that he had spent in the interrogation room under the less than careful ministrations of his guards, he had to have been missing for at least twenty days. By his reckoning, it wouldn't be much longer before he got out of here.

Funny, he idly thought to himself, he kept saying here, but the truth was he had no idea where here was. After days under the bright lights of his interrogators, he had been thrown into this cell, and since then he had not seen an ounce of daylight.

At first, after so much bright light and radiant heat, he had found the darkness a relief, cool and pleasant. It had taken a full day for panic to set in, when he suddenly realised that was likely to have been the last light that he would ever see. Trying to calm himself with some of the exercises his father and grandfather had taught him as a boy, he had gotten to know his surroundings by sound alone.

As far as he could tell, he had perhaps half a dozen or so neighbours. They rarely called out, though he had been woken many a night by the terrifying screams of his sleeping fellow inmates. The noisiest, who seemed directly opposite his cell when he sat facing his cell door, he had named North. North called out a lot at night, Chakotay thought, or was it just that North was closer and he heard him more? East could be heard in the very small hours scratching. Chakotay wasn't sure whether he was trying to dig himself a tunnel into the bedrock with his meal spoon, or whether he was writing his memoirs on the wall. Of all of them, it was West that got to him most. West called out nearly all the time for some named Elloera. Chakotay seemed to know straight away the first time that he heard West, that Elloera was someone special. As he lay one night listening to the whimpering and moaning coming from the direction of West's cell, he found himself thinking of Kathryn.

And the first thought that he had was that she was going to be madder than hell when she found out he had gone and gotten himself captured.

He imagined the look on her face as she sat staring at her comm screen, her hair now refashioned into that bun he so hated. She would purse her lips as Will Riker gave her his report, her jaw tensing. She would agree that it was the right decision to withdraw from the rendezvous area, and she would offer her support for Tom Paris as acting captain. She would tell Will and Tom that she would meet with a few people to discuss options and then she would get back to them. The screen would go dark, and Kathryn Janeway would suddenly seem to spring to life as she hurled her coffee mug against the nearby bulkhead and uttered unladylike curses. She would no doubt question his parentage, his captor's parentage and the parentage of the universe as a whole before she calmed down. But through out all, she remained beautiful, the Irish temper in her only making her more beautiful as he watched her. Over the last few days he had been sure he could see her standing in front of him when he had opened his eyes to the darkness. He had even caught himself calling her name a few times, and then realised that he was becoming like North howling into the darkness, and like West, pining for a mirage.

That was when he had decided that he would build his house. He had read somewhere once about a prisoner in some forgotten war on earth who had spent years captive in near darkness. To preserve his faculties, the man had built a house from scratch in his head. Each day he went to work with a game plan, a game plan in which he measured and cut every timber, hit every nail. Each day he stayed one step closer to sanity when all of those around him seemed to become more disconnected.

Now, a fortnight into his own build, Chakotay had poured foundations, laid down most of his utilities and was beginning to look at framing. He had wondered if his ability to lucid dream had helped him, or whether he was really just daydreaming, but after an hour or so considering the subject, he decided it didn't matter a damn either way. Instead he had begun to plan rooms out, paying particular attention to a workshop he planned for himself and a study he planned for Kathryn.

Chakotay had fought against the image of Kathryn in his mind for a few days after he realised that he was becoming more like West, talking to illusions. He still feared the loss of his sanity. But after the walls began to close in on him, not that he could see them, it had occurred to him that Kathryn was, and had always been, the key to Chakotay's sanity. She had kept him whole during many a dark time in the Delta Quadrant, even when she couldn't show her affection for him. Chakotay had realised that if Kathryn were here in person, she would do and say everything her mirage did, if it meant keeping him alive.

That was when Chakotay had elected to build a house for the both of them. That was when Chakotay realised that if he ever got out of here to see her again, there was no way that he was going to give up on a relationship with her ever again. Smiling into the darkness, Chakotay began to decorate Kathryn's office. He decided to paint it beige. She had once told him that she always looked better in beige. He couldn't disagree.

Tom surveyed the faces before him on the bridge of Voyager. There were a few new faces, especially at Conn, but there were also enough familiar faces, mostly ex-maquis, to understand that this bridge had never seen darker times.

Three weeks had passed. Everyday either he or Riker had contacted the Romulan authorities and every day they had received the same answer. Radiation prevented the rescue teams from reaching the site of the blast that had claimed over a hundred Romulan lives, two Bajorans, three Vulcans and one human. The Bajorans and Vulcans weren't known to the crew of Voyager personally, but the human was. He was their captain and friend, Chakotay.

The comms panel chirped on queue, 9 am as it had done everyday for three weeks. Tom felt his insides knot again, and looked to see his apprehension reflected in Harry's face. Will Riker, captain of the lead ship of Voyager's expedition to Romulus, the Titan, nodded to Harry and the view screen shifted from the star fields to the familiar face of Attaché Toral.

" Toral," Will nodded a curt greeting.

The Romulan bowed. He was a young man, no older than Harry, and about as low as they came on the Romulan governmental food chain. The situation warranted contact with a senator or an ambassador at least. They had however been assigned Toral, fourth attaché to adjutant Marek, a clerk to the office of Praetor Tal'aura. If Tom and Will hadn't been burdened with finding the fate of their missing crewmen, they suspected that Federation would have lodged a diplomatic protest at the affront. Frankly Will didn't give a damn. He had five crewmen and a good friend missing and his patience for waiting was only so finite.

" Good Morning Captain, Commander," Toral replied.

" Any news this morning," Tom asked,

The paused that followed his question instead of the usual apologies and prevarications, warned both the officers that something was coming.

" The rescue teams were able to reach the blast point this morning," the attaché said gravely.

" Did they find survivors ?" Will asked.

Toral shook his head.

" Bodies," Tom offered, his gut knotting even further.

Toral shook his head again.

" Then what?"

" Nothing," the aide replied, " they found literally nothing. A crater measuring several dozen metres across was all that was visible."

" Could we talk to the team ?" Will asked, " perhaps we can reconstruct something from what they saw. Perhaps there were things that would seem more evident to Federation citizens than Romulan, something you might have missed."

" I am afraid that will not be possible," Toral apologised, looking away from the two officers on his screen.

" Look if it's about security issues or recompense, I'm sure Starfleet will make it worth the while of the Romulan government to aid us in this," Tom bargained.

" You misunderstand me, Commander Paris," Toral apologised again," I am afraid that it is not for security reasons that you cannot talk to the team. My superiors tell me that we would help in anyway possible if they could. I am afraid that you cannot speak to the team, because the last member succumbed to illness related to the radiation an hour ago. All the team are dead."

Silence had affected the crew of the bridge many times over the years, but Tom had never felt it this heavy. Chakotay had been more than just another crew member, he had been the glue that had held the crew together. He had prevailed where Janeway had succumbed to her own demons, held fast where others had weakened. He had been like a father to them all and Tom sighed, he had been his friend.

Paris was drawn from his reverie as he heard Will swallow hard.

" Thank you for informing us Toral," he said brokenly," On behalf of the Federation, will you please express our sympathies to the families of the rescue team for their loss. Without their sacrifice, we would not be able to put this chapter behind us."

Toral seemed taken aback by the sentiment, but bowed deeply in acceptance and promised to convey the condolences. Will promised not to let the incident impact in anyway upon the re-evaluation of the Treaty of Algeron or the Federations efforts to aid Romulan reconstruction, before he closed the channel and slumped deeply into the nearest chair.

" Damn," he muttered.

"So that's it?" Harry called out.

He looked from face to face. His look implored them all to feel as bereft as he was equally enraged. Finally his gaze settled on Paris, and he saw the same pleading look in his friend's eyes as he had the last time they thought they had lost Chakotay, marooned on the planet he and Janeway had called New Earth. Again as before, it was Tom who pleaded with him not to fight the inevitable

" Harry," Tom pleaded..

" We're just going to give up," Harry continued, ignoring Tom's plea.

" There's nothing to give up on. They're dead!" Tom suddenly barked, spinning all his own anger and frustration in Harry's direction.

" We should still bring back the bodies," Harry argued, unfazed by his friend outburst.

Will watched the interchange between the two men. He watched Paris swallow his temper down hard, work hard to muster up his professional demeanour. He was after all, the acting captain now. But Will remembered all too well the sense of hopelessness that followed the loss of a ship's captain. He had felt the rage and hurt himself when he thought he had lost Picard to the Borg, and again a few years later, when they had thought him killed in a bar fight. With all Harry and Tom had been through in the Delta Quadrant with Chakotay and survived, it must have seemed senseless now to lose him at home

" There's nothing to bring back," Tom replied hoarsely, but evenly, drawing Will back to the conversation at hand.

" He was my friend Harry," Tom continued, "He was as much family as you. If I could bring him home, believe me I would."

Harry's shoulders slumped in defeat, his eyes dampened. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been surrounded by all the people he cared the most deeply about. He had found it difficult when they had returned to Earth and that family had, for the most part, gone different ways. He was so used to having them around. Janeway's guidance, Seven's insight, Tuvok's logic, B'Elanna's passion….even Doc's whining. Chakotay had been like a father, teaching him, guiding him. Harry had most appreciated that Chakotay had let him make his own mistakes but had been there to pick him up after. The new lieutenant had dropped a more prestigious offer of an assignment at Engineering design to return to Voyager when he had heard that Chakotay was to command her again.

Eventually Harry nodded, slipping resignedly back into the chair by his station.

Tom returned his attention to Riker.

" A lot of us were very close to Captain Chakotay, " he offered as explanation and apology to Will.

" I know the feeling," Riker smiled weakly," When we thought we had lost Captain Picard once to a bunch of mercenaries, I was prepared to move heaven and hell to avenge his death. Some people impact our lives more deeply than others."

Tom nodded.

" I'm going to return to the Titan, make my report to Starfleet," Will continued," My wife is a counsellor, I'd be more than happy to assign her here temporarily if you think your crew could make use of her."

Tom glanced sideways at Harry.

" I think there are a few here who would appreciate Commander Troi's help, thank you sir," Tom sighed.

" Soon as she is ready, Deanna will be over. " Will replied, tapping his chest.

Before he could speak again, Tom cut in.

" Sir, can I ask a couple of favours," Tom asked.

Will nodded. " Anything,"

" Delay sending your report to Starfleet Command."

" Why ?" the elder captain asked.

" I would like to call my wife first," Tom replied.

" I know they were close, but I'm sure your wife would understand hearing second hand," Will argued gently. He eyed him curiously; surprised that Paris would ask a personal favour at such a time as this.

Tom smiled. Thinking about B'Elanna had been the only thing that had managed to make him smile in the last three weeks.

" Yes sir, she would understand," Tom agreed," But it's not B'Elanna I'm worried about. There is someone else who deserves to hear first……….. And who deserves to hear it from a friend and not over a comm."

Will nodded in sudden understanding.

" We're they close ?" he asked.

Tom nodded sadly.

" Very……. but not as close as they deserved."

Tom Paris hoped that of all people, Will Riker would understand what he meant. Chakotay had told Tom over dinner one evening with Riker and his wife, that Will had very nearly missed a good thing in his relationship with Deanna, caught up in boundaries and the like. No one had missed the sadness in Chakotay's voice as he toasted the couple's rediscovery of each other. Tom just hoped that Riker remembered now. He did.

" Done. Two hours okay ?"

Tom nodded gratefully.

" Any thing else?," Will asked.

" I need you to call in any favours you have. She will want to come here. She'll need transport," Tom informed him.

Will smiled. As a matter of fact, he knew just the man due to leave orbit.

" Done"

Kathryn Janeway watched the lights of the houses beside the bay dance across the water and tried to convince herself that they reminded her of stars. But the colours were wrong, the dance on the water unfamiliar. They were nothing but spots of light in a black evening.

Janeway turned away from the window and looked around her equally dark apartment. She hadn't bothered to turn the lights on when she had returned home, instead preferring to wander in a darkness that matched her mood. It wasn't hard. There was nothing here to say that this was Kathryn Janeway's home, not like aboard Voyager. On Voyager she had accumulated dozens of mementos and pieces of furniture. As much as she enjoyed her current assignment to the admiralty, she had decided after the difficulty of separating herself from her life and things aboard Voyager, not to mention some of the people, she would never get as attached to one place again. As a result her quarters were Spartan and utilitarian. There was a replicator in the kitchen (well programmed with coffee), a desk to work at, a bed to sleep in (when she wasn't camping out in her office on the couch) and a sofa. The last, the sofa, was a conciliatory effort to accommodate the many friends and family when they visited, both those from before she went away and those she made while away. It served her purposes, but it wasn't, and she doubted ever would be, home.

No, home, she realised now, was orbiting the Romulan home world. She looked again at the day's intelligence reports regarding the mission she had sent her former first officer there to do. She hadn't been surprised when she had read that Reman pro –Shinzon factions , still believed by Starfleet Intelligence to be collusion with Praetor Tal'aura, though no evidence could be found, had rioted at the conference talks. She had been even less surprised when one extremist had detonated a deuterium bomb that had all but destroyed the conference facility and most of the attendees, leaving the whole area bathed in quantum radiation. She had expressed her doubts on the veracity of Romulan peace talks to the admiralty even before she had ordered Picard to the Neutral Zone months before. She had doubted them even more after the Shinzon affair. Which was why, along with her personal reasons, she had sent Chakotay and Voyager to join the task force. Chakotay had no Alpha Quadrant bias in Federation/Romulan negotiations, and no agenda regarding the Treaty of Algeron. He would continue to be her eyes and ears there as he had been for years in the Delta Quadrant.

And he had, sending a written report at 21.00 hours each day. Until the day after the conference bombing. She had waited but nothing had arrived. She thought perhaps he had been busy with aid efforts and had waited patiently til the following evening, when again nothing had come. She had tried to contact Voyager to speak to Chakotay herself, but found herself denied by Starfleet Intelligence. Voyager was under a communications black out. After three days she had put a private call through to Tuvok on the Titan, hoping to get answers. It was Tuvok who had told her that Chakotay had been among the Federation delegation at the Conference. They had had no contact with him since the explosion.

Janeway had wanted to go there, but Tuvok had argued, with implacable, insurmountable logic, that she could do more at Command. She had stayed, rooted herself in command and waited for answers. The depression she had suffered from since her return to the Alpha Quadrant seemed to creep in on her further as she waited. Slowly, but surely she had started to refuse to see people, only speaking to a selected few. Finally, after three weeks living in her office, Owen Paris had ordered her home, with threats of doctors, demotion, exile and penal servitude if she didn't go. She had been home three hours and the walls were already starting to creep in on her in the darkness again.

Kathryn was contemplating the darkness, her foolishness for accepting promotion and giving up command of Voyager and her complicated relationship with Chakotay when the door chime sounded, echoing in the spartan darkness of the room. Kathryn considered ignoring it. Whoever it was would eventually give up and go away, she hoped. If it was about Voyager, command would have called her. She really had no interest in whoever stood there leaning on her door chime.

beep………..

beep………..

beep………..

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP……………

Anger flared in Kathryn as the final chime echoed on and on and on, carving chaos in her perfect dark solitude. As she stormed to the door, she remembered another time when she had buried herself in the darkness of her own quarters, against the world. It was only Chakotay who had saved her from herself. She ripped open the door, intent on hurling a creative combination of insults at whoever dared interrupt her reverie. But the words caught in her throat as she saw B'Elanna stood there, cradling infant Miral in her arms.

" B'Elanna ?" she whispered.

" I'm sorry to hang on your door chime...."

" That's okay. What on Earth are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Janeway leaned out and took Miral from B'Elanna as she motioned her inside the apartment. B'Elanna slid off her coat and followed her former commander into the dark apartment.

" Lights," Kathryn called out. She settled herself onto the sofa, still cradling Miral, as if she were her sole link to her past life "It's a little late to be out with this little one isn't it ?"

" Owen is at headquarters, and Tom's mother is away on Vulcan. I had no choice," she apologised.

" What's so important that it couldn't wait til morning," Kathryn chided, fussing over the baby, all her earlier dark thoughts erased by the little ray of light in her arms.

B'Elanna watched her friend fuss. Tom had told her once, that Kathryn would always fuss over her god daughter as if she were the child she never had, that Miral meant more to her than just the first baby born on the return to the Alpha Quadrant, even if he could never really put into words why. He said that it might have something to do with sharing her duty as god parent with Chakotay, but had refused to elaborate further.

" Tom called," she finally muttered.

Kathryn's head shot up from her cooing over Miral, her smile gone, her sunken tired eyes examining B'Elanna for a clue.

" A Romulan rescue team made it to the site of the explosion," B'Elanna continued awkwardly. How many times had Janeway sat before her with some bad news of one type or another? B'Elanna had never realised just how much it had taken her to do it until now.

" And," Janeway pushed, her voice icily cold, as neutral as she could possibly muster, a barrier against her feelings. But the way she cradled Miral even closer, was enough to tell B'Elanna just how vulnerable her former captain really was feeling.

" The Romulans reported no survivors. Even there search team succumbed to radiation poisoning. There's no way that Chakotay could have survived".

Deep down, Kathryn had known what was coming. If it had been good news, B'Elanna would have just called. In fact Tom would have called Janeway himself. You only sent a friend when the news was bad. The signs Janeway had noted but refused to admit now glared at her, unmistakeable. The redness of B'Elanna's eyes, left over from her own expression of grief. The awkwardness with which her former engineer sat, even though Janeway's spartan apartment was like a second home for her since Tom had shipped out. Kathryn felt suddenly cold, a shiver racing through her. She felt like cradling Miral tighter, to share in the baby's fresh innocent warmth. Instead she handed her to her mother. She was shaking ever so slightly.

" He's dead ?"

B'Elanna nodded. She made a nest of pillows from the cushions on the sofa and laid the now slumbering Miral in it, returning to sit beside Kathryn.

" Tom thought you would rather hear it from one of us, than some adjutant," the former engineer replied as she sat down beside her friend.

Kathryn reached out, taking B'Elanna's had and squeezing it warmly as she forced a smile and nodded her agreement and understanding. Janeway reminded B'Elanna of Tom's rather sweet grandmother.

Kathryn stood to stare out of the window again. The lights across the bay had dimmed with the advancing evening. She remembered the evening of the welcome home ball.

It had seemed to her that everyone from every inch of the Federation had wanted to speak to her that evening. No sooner had she finished answering some question or other for someone, than the next person appeared with another. She caught sight of Chakotay several times that evening, as besieged by dignitaries and officials as she was. She had expected Seven to be with him, but had been told by a rather gleeful EMH, that they had chosen to discontinue their relationship. She remembered part of her heart soaring as she was led away by yet another official.

She had finally managed to escape later that evening, savouring the quiet cool breeze that washed in off the bay. She had spent so long being spoke to, spoken at and spoken about in the last few days, she had forgotten how wonderful silence was. She could hear the gentle lap of the waves against the pontoon that lay across the immaculately tended lawn in front of her and smiled to herself. It had been a long, long time since she had heard the lap of waves. It had been after another brush with death, on a replicated Lake Como with Chakotay……

" There you are," the familiar voice whispered from behind her, as eager to avoid drawing attention as she was. " You know your not supposed to escape unless your first officer gets to go too."

He grinned widely and she couldn't help but smile.

"With that pack of vultures?" she countered, jutting her chin in the direction of the ball room, " hey its every man, woman and child for themselves."

He raised his glass to her, and both toasted the quiet moments, for however long they would likely last. They walked slowly together across the lawn towards the sound of the water, eventually sitting on the pontoon, their feet dangling just above the water. The breeze picked gently around them, and though she wasn't cold, Kathryn accepted Chakotay's dress uniform coat with a smile.

" I hate all this pomp and circumstance," she sighed.

" Me too," he agreed.

" I was surprised you were here," Kathryn noted.

" Why?"

" You hate ceremonies. "

" I hate a lot of things, doesn't mean I don't do them," he chuckled. " Besides you were here. I wouldn't be much of a first officer, not to mention a best friend, if I weren't here to support my Captain in her darkest hour."

" Well your presence is greatly appreciated," she smiled," and thank you for rescuing me."

" From what ?" Chakotay asked nonchalantly

" You know as well as I do that you deliberately subjected yourself to some of those idiotic questions. Don't think I didn't see you deflecting some of those officials."

" What's a first officer for," Chakotay smiled back," but I have to admit, I think our situation tonight was inflicted on us by a bad decision you made."

Kathryn's face dropped suddenly as she stopped mid sip and turned to face the man beside her. Her decisions being called into question was rather a sore point with her at the moment.

" Commander ?" she asked.

Chakotay chuckled at the change in Kathryn's expression.

" What I meant is that you brought this on us by allowing Neelix to leave the ship. He would have seen off those officials and whipped up a leola root stew while he was at it" he grinned. He only grinned wider when he saw the relieved expression wash over Kathryn and felt a friendly, but no less hefty punch on his shoulder.

" Don't you ever do that to me again," she admonished him," I don't think I could get through any of this if I thought you were against me."

The bemused smile on Chakotay's face faded as he realised the import of Kathryn's words. He suddenly felt guilty for frightening her.

" Kathryn, you will never be alone," he told her, his voice as full of commitment as it had ever been," I will always be here for you."

Kathryn smiled up at him, bringing her hand up to rest on the side of his face.

" I know I've been hard on you the last few years," she whispered to him.

" No you haven't…" he began, but a rather familiar glare from Kathryn melted any further words he might have had.

" I have …. and I'm sorry," she cut in, and glared at him again as he opened his mouth to argue, promptly closing it again." But I couldn't have ever…ever…. done it without you………thank you."

Chakotay leaned in to her hand, sensing that perhaps now was the time to take advantage of the second chance offered to him. Once or twice he had come close to telling her outright what he had told her in his body language and his heart a thousand times before. She had always looked away, broken the link between them…….today her eyes never left him.

" There you two are," the familiar laughing tones of Tom Paris called out.

If Chakotay hadn't known better, he might have thought the Lieutenant planned this. Seven years ago, he would have laid odds on it. Now, all those years on, he would have laid odds on Paris waiting for moment he had just intruded on. He would have won the betting pool.

" What can we do for you Mr Paris," Janeway replied, her hand slipping from her first officer's face.

" Don't shoot the messenger, " Paris pleaded raising his hand in surrender, " but my dad is looking for you. Something about a speech to the troops….."

" Of for crying out loud….." Janeway muttered under her breath.

" Sorry Captain," Tom apologised again as he took the hand the captain offered and helped her to her feet, not missing the look that shot from Chakotay." You know, I'm sure Dad won't mind a few more minutes. I always was lousy at finding the people he sent me after when I was a kid. He wouldn't be surprised if it took me a while to find you."

" Paris is right," Chakotay argued, grabbing hold of her other hand," Stay."

Tom nodded and suddenly felt the urge to agree with the EMH that he had an awful sense of shook her head and patted Tom's arm understandingly.

" That's okay, Tom. Duty calls," she replied as she turned and looked back down at Chakotay, offering her hand to help him up.

" I might just stay here a while," the commander murmured, looking away from Kathryn and out towards the dance of the city lights on the water across the bay.

" Thought you said you would see me through this," she chuckled, her hand still held out for him, but Chakotay didn't take it. He didn't even look round.

" You don't need me. "

She had looked at Chakotay's back and smiled sadly, suddenly realising the separate paths that lay before the both of them now. It wasn't spoken, but she knew Chakotay. Nodding quietly, she turned and followed Paris, who had discreetly backed away from the moment before him. She would miss her friend…………

"….I miss more than my friend," Kathryn whispered into the darkened room, pushing away the memory.

She sank to the floor, her body propped up against the glass before her, her thoughts lost in the years behind her. She didn't hear B'Elanna or the words that followed. She didn't hear her young friend tell her to try and get some sleep, that she would be back in the morning. She didn't hear the old fashioned door click quietly shut. She didn't see the rain beyond her window start to fall, San Francisco's echo to her falling tears.

Tom keyed off the comm link as Deanna Troi entered the ready room

" I'm sorry, am I interupting?" she asked, backing towards the door.

Tom stood up and swerved round the desk to greet the counsellor.

" Not at all. Just my wife. She went to see the Admiral."

" And?"

Tom sighed.

" Nothing. B'Elanna says she just shut down, zoned out. She sat with her for several hours, all she did was stare out the window. She's never seen Kathryn so desolate. "

Deanna nodded.

" I can imagine. Will's spoken to Captain Picard. He's beaming down to Earth in the morning."

Paris sighed, relieved. Noticing the counsellor stood awkwardly as he rolled his head around his shoulders and ran tired fingers through his hair, he stood and walked from behind the desk.

" So who sent you to make sure my marbles are all still in my bag," he asked, motioning the newcomer to take a seat on the sofa as he ordered up tea.

Deanna accepted gratefully, sitting on the couch and taking a long sip of the Tarkalian blend before she answered.

" No one thinks you're not up to the job, if that's what you mean," she smiled." I've just spoken to Lieutenant Kim and a few others. They mentioned that you and Captain Chakotay were close. I thought, given everything that's happened here, and with the Admiral arriving soon…… well I just thought you might like to clear the air."

" Clear the air ?" Paris echoed." About what ?"

" You tell me."

Paris sighed heavily, sipped his own tea in lieu of answering the question. It was a tactic Deanna knew well and she was very patient. Eventually Paris finished the sip, and smiling knowingly, relented.

" When I first met Chakotay," Tom began, " he was rightly suspicious of me. Second time I met him, he wanted to kill me."

" Rightly so?" Deanna teased.

" Probably," Tom smiled, but his story drifted off with old memories. But words failing a conversation was something else Deanna understood well. She had spent all afternoon getting people to talk about things they really didn't have the words for.

" As I understand, he fought hard to get you assigned as his first officer," she prompted.

" That's one thing I don't get. Why ?," Tom wondered, " Seven years ago he wanted to kill me."

Deanna smiled.

" People change. Given the right circumstances, often for the better. But 99 times out of a 100, its always the person we least suspect who sees it in us."

" You reckon?" Tom echoed disbelievingly.

" Absolutely. A few years ago, before I was married, I decided to make some changes in my life. I went for the bridge officers exam, passed after the….oh I can't remember how many times I sat watches and led missions. I expected Will to believe in me, I expected Captain Picard to believe in me. And they did. But although I made the changes in my life that I had planned, something still didn't feel right. "

" But someone changed that ?" Paris offered.

" Someone I had never spent time with, had very little in common with and whose life experiences and goals were as diametrically opposite to mine as could be possible, told me that he respected me, that he believed in me, and what I did."

" Bet it's Tuvok….he does that to everyone," Paris mocked.

" It was Worf actually," B'Elanna corrected, ignoring the first officer's attempts to dismiss the conversation at hand.

" Ok, wasn't expecting that one," Tom replied and in truth he hadn't. He had briefly come across the Klingon around Starfleet headquarters, but the commander's reputation preceded him. Tom could easily picture the Klingon charging head long into battle without a second thought. But he had a little trouble associating Worf with someone as genteel as Deanna Troi, someone as opposite in outlook on the world as seemed possible.

" One day he came to me and told me that he was impressed with who I was, what I had done and that he wanted to make me soh-chim to Alexander, his son."

" Surrogate mother, wow an honour indeed."

" You speak Klingon?" Deanna replied, impressed.

" My wife is half-klingon," Tom explained, smiling warmly, " you tend to pick the language up a little when she is hurling things at you on a bad day. "

Deanna grinned. She'd seen Worf on several bad days, and whilst he didn't throw things, he sometimes came pretty close.

" I found a basic grounding in the key phrases helps me know when to duck," Tom added.

" Captain Chakotay introduced you to your wife didn't he ?" Deanna asked.

" He asked her to shoot me once," Tom grinned at the now fond memory," I guess that's the same thing."

Before Deanna could reply, the comm beeped.

"Kim to Paris."

" Go ahead, Harry."

" Commander Tuvok has beamed aboard with the Romulan security tapes, sir."

Tom felt his stomach knot ever so slightly at the thought of seeing Chakotay being killed time and time again as they reviewed the tape. He doubted Harry or Tuvok wanted to either. But if there was any explanation of how and why Chakotay had died, he needed it soon to show to the Admiral

" Get working on an analysis with him. I want something more to tell Admiral Janeway when she gets here than her best friend died for nothing."

" Aye sir. Kim out."

Tom turned back to face his guest.

" You seem very sure that she will come," Deanna offered,

Paris nodded.

" Where Chakotay is concerned…..was concerned…. Kathryn is always predictable," he smiled fondly, and returned to quietly sipping his tea.

Deanna smiled.

" Tell me about her ."

Jean Luc Picard stood before the old brownstone building, mustering courage. He had been awake most of the evening considering the news that Will had told him. He had over the years lost many good officers and friends before their time, was well aquainted with loss and his own need to come to terms quickly. But not since he had brought Jack Crusher's body home to Beverly, had he been so caught up in another person's grief.

Part of his inner soul sighed. Here he was again; mustering courage and deep breaths to steel himself against the solemn duty he was charged with.

" Tom Paris thinks the Admiral will want to come out here," Picard though back to the conversation last night when Will had informed him dourly of the situation. In recognising Janeway's grief, and the hole it left in the lives of Tom Paris and Harry Kim, Picard surmised that most had forgotten that Captain Chakotay had been a close friend of Riker's too.

" He's probably right," Picard replied.

" I was wondering…..well….if you didn't mind…"

Picard smiled and held his hand up to the monitor to silence Will.

" Of course… I'll bring her."

He saw the weight of the favour slip with relief from Will's shoulders.

" We'll be there in three days, " Picard advised his former XO.

" Look forward to seeing you," Riker replied, and leaned towards the monitor to close the connection.

Picard had felt a profound sense of déjà vu all night, but here he was again. Taking one last breath, he mounted the steps into her building, and began the trudge up the stairs. Her apartment was on the top most floor, on the far side of the building. As soon as Picard had seen her building, the environs and its magnificent view across the bay, he had seen why she had taken the apartment.

He knocked her door, several times to no avail, and he was again gratified she had taken this apartment as he reached for the door handle, turned and pushed the door inwards.

" Admiral Janeway ?" he called from the threshold.

He heard nothing except the reply of the incessant beating of the rain against what he suspected to be the window with the view of the bay.

" Kathryn ?" he repeated moments later, his brow furrowing in concern as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

He closed the door quietly behind him. The last thing she needed right now was for the press, who were sure to get wind of the incident before Starfleet did, traipsing all over the building, snapping shots of Janeway in her grief.

He stepped quietly along the cavernous hall way, glancing upwards to the mezzanine style upper floor. But the upper levels, like the lower, were shrouded in darkness.

" Kathryn, it's Jean-Luc ," he called out again, as he passed a large kitchen and breakfast room, sheathed only in the few weak rays of dawn sun.

He saw the makings of a coffee pot long abandoned before he passed by and into the main living room. And there, face still pressed onto the glass and the pouring rain, he found Kathryn huddled, her arms wrapped around her knees, her eyes blankly staring out into her past. In fact the tableau was much the same as Lt Torres had informed him of when he had contacted her a few moments before beaming down.

He picked up his pace over to her, kneeling before her gently and taking her hands into his own. They were cold, even in the maintained warmth of the apartment. Her eyes were ringed with soreness, her cheeks stained with the dry salty rivers her tears had left. Her grey blue eyes held a small spark of life to them, but only just. Picard had to gently take her chin to direct her face at him before she even acknowledged his presence. The emptiness in her eyes caught his breath; this was not the indominitable Kathryn Janeway of lore, the rock solid, impenetrable Captain who had battled everything and anything with her steely gaze, a thrust out chin and her hands jammed defiantly on her hips.

" Jean-Luc ?" she queried hoarsely, her parched lips stumbling over the words, the faintest recognition in her eyes as she pulled herself up to her feet.

Picard helped her gently up onto her shaking legs and was about to enquire as to why she has spent all night sat on the floor, but as he stepped forward he succeeded only in catching her. She slumped into his arms, unconscious.

" Picard to Crusher," he called out, tapping his combadge as he laid her gently on the sofa in her spartan living room.

" Go ahead. What's wrong Jean-Luc?"

Picard stood looking at Kathryn as he listened to the gentle tones of the woman he loved. He had been about to ask for an emergency beam out to sick bay, but the sound of Beverly's voice, caught the words in his throat. He knew Kathryn was bereft for the one she had loved. Would he, had it been Beverly who now lay dead, want his grief paraded around sick bay for everyone's edification. Kathryn was a private as he, one of the reasons their friendship had taken off and mattered to each of them so much. She would want to keep her feelings for Chakotay as hidden as they had always been. At least for a while.

" Beverly, can you beam to my coordinates with a medkit?"

He didn't receive an answer, only the sound of a familiar high pitched whine from the transporter beam. Beverly showed a spark of relief at seeing him well, before her attention turned to the patient he realised she had called him for.

" She collapsed as she stood up," he informed the doctor has she had moved to the sofa.

" She's severely dehydrated," Beverly replied as she ran her tricorder over the unconscious woman. She noted the tear stains and the soreness of Kathryn's eyes. Jean-Luc had told her the news over dinner. Beverly had offered to beam down with him for support, but he had told her he knew Kathryn, and her stubbornness, well.

" I found her curled up on the floor," Jean Luc added as Beverly, pressed a hypospray to Kathryn's neck.

" A kind of pick me up," Beverly answered her friend's confused and worried gaze." She's dehydrated, a little mal nourished. I suspect she hasn't been eating properly for several months. Her electrolytes are all over the place. Her blood pressure is up and down. She's exhausted. It caused her to pass out."

" Will she be ok?"

" Physically yes, " Beverly sighed as she returned the hypospray to her case, "While she deals with her grief, her body is going to respond like this until she begins to eat, drink and sleep normally. I can help with that, but emotionally….I don't know. That was always Deanna's territory."

Picard nodded.

"We should get her into bed. She will be asleep for a couple of hours," Beverly noted, motioning Picard over to one side to help her lift the woman.

Gently they carried her up to the mezzanine level, found her room, and tucked her into bed, leaving clothes as a matter to worry about another time. Now the Admiral just needed to sleep. As they backed out of Kathryn's room, Picard became suddenly aware of the nature of Beverly's undress. She stood before him in pale blue silk pyjamas, her hair down and partly brushed.

" I'm so sorry," he began to apologise as they descended down stairs and into Kathryn's kitchen, where Beverly ordered two tea's from the replicator." I should have realised what the time was. Did I wake you?"

" Don't worry, " Beverly placed a reassuring hand on his arm, "on all counts."

Picard gratefully accepted the tea she offered him and stepped back out into the living room, noticing now, in the bright lines of sun just rising across the bay, how barren and unlived in the room looked. Somehow, he didn't imagine that picture improving now.

"She was close to him then," Beverly asked, as she followed him out.

Picard nodded as his gaze crossed the empty room and back at the woman he had recently realised he was so very much in love with. She had turned up in his ready room only a few weeks earlier to rejoin his crew after another short spell at Starfleet Medical Headquarters. She had signed aboard to Worf, presented herself in the captain's ready room proceeded to passionately kiss him. He had suddenly felt so complete, with all those years of unspoken affection and missed opportunities now behind them. Kathryn would no longer have that chance.

" They were in love," Picard whispered hoarsely, reaching out protectively for Beverly's hand.

They finished tea silently together, both grateful for each other's love.

" I'd better beam back," Beverly finally sighed," before Worf creates hell over my emergency transport."

Picard nodded.

" Are you coming?" she asked.

He shook his head.

" Commander Paris seems to think she will want to go to Romulus, and I promised Will I would take her there," he replied," Besides I don't think she should wake up to an empty house."

Crusher smile in agreement.

" I remember you doing the same thing when Jack died," she said softly." I was so grateful. Especially when it came time to tell Wesley."

Picard's smile, tinged with a little pain at the memory, softened as she squeezed his hand gently.

" I'll arrange quarters for her," Beverly announced as she stood.

" Thank you," Picard replied gratefully," and would you please ask Worf to prepare for immediate departure as soon as we are aboard."

Beverly nodded, stood and tapped the combadge she had hastily slapped on to her pyjamas.

" Crusher to Enterprise."

" Worf here," the deep baritone thundered impatiently over the comm," Are you alright doctor? The computer reported an emergency beam out to the surface."

" I'm fine Worf. It's a long story," she sighed, and as she looked to Jean Luc he nodded almost imperceptibly. " I'll explain later. One to beam up."

" Very well. Standby."

Beverly disappeared again in the transporter whine, and Picard was left with the stark, quiet surroundings. He checked in on Kathryn, to see her sleeping in awkward fitfulness, before he entered the dressing room. If she was going to go to Romulus, she was going to need something to wear and he doubted she would be strong enough to pack the bag herself. He pulled several uniforms from the shelf and lay them neatly in the hold all. When he reached her under garments drawer, he really wished that he had thought to get Beverly to do this before she left.

" If you can battle the Borg, Jean-Luc, " he muttered resolutely to himself," then you can handle a drawer of smalls."

Taking a deep breath, he pulled the drawer from the unit, and upended the entire contents into the holdall. Sighing satisfactorily, he returned the drawer to the runner, secured the holdall shut, and placed the bag at the top of the mezzanine stairs. Grabbing the book that sat on the bedside table,a book entitled 'The Remains Of The Day' by an author named Ishigawa that Picard had never heard of, an uncharacteristically un-gothic Victorian read for Janeway. Leafing through the pages to find the opening chapter, Picard settled in the bedroom arm chair and waited for his friend to wake up.

Chakotay had already been startled awake by a feeling of Kathryn in pain that he couldn't place and he couldn't shake discomforting feeling of. Nevertheless he was still jolted in to full alert by the sounds at the door. The scream of rusted metal scraping backwards pierced through him. It felt like the loudest, most wrenching sound he had ever heard. He scrambled backwards in the dark, until he painfully hit the back wall of his cell. He jammed his hands over his ears as the screech seemed to go on and on, becoming ever louder and more painful to his ears. He could hear the blood rushing through his head.

When the door opened, searing light arced into the cell. Chakotay's hands left his ears and shielded his eyes. It felt like looking into the sun. His unguarded ears heard the door hinges stop there screeching, heard heavy boots crunch on the ground beside him as soldiers filed in. A heavy boot kicked him onto his side, pulling his hands away from his eyes. He blinked against the grit he found his face mashed into, as well as the light. He felt rough hands grab onto his collar and drag him forward, thrusting him face down onto the ground. He saw the blurred silhouettes of boots around him. His vision cleared, adapting the burning brightness just as the boots suddenly came to life, slamming into him. He felt ribs crack and bruises race to the surface. His vision blurred again as one connected with his jaw. His vision swam with redness and hot heat as he felt his jaw slam upwards against his teeth. Another kick impacted his jaw again and bounced up to crack against his nose. His body was so racked with pain he didn't feel one more break. Stars swam before him, and Chakotay felt his senses withdrawing, losing contact with the world around him.

He wasn't particularly bothered by the breaks and injuries inflicted on him. He had suffered from them and recovered from them before. This time however, he had the numbing feeling that he wasn't coming away from this one. He wouldn't be going home. But even that didn't bother him.

He was only saddened by the fact that he wouldn't see Kathryn again, wouldn't see her battle the universe around her with stubbornness alone. He wouldn't be able to lock her in her office as he had planned; not letting her out until she acknowledged that she was as in love with him as he was her.

An angry boot connected with the temple of Chakotay's head again, but this time his skull didn't bounce back again. The world swam around him and he lost the image of Kathryn in his mind as he sank into darkness.