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 13): Warm thanks to Lia Harkness for having a quick look at this for reassurance! She didn't give it the full beta treatment (at my request, as she has more important things to do) though, plus I've made some changes since she saw it, so all errors are mine! (As usual, feel free to point them out, if they are fixable, and I will fix them if they are actually errors.) Also thank you to all of you who have been reading, reviewing, following, and faving this story. It means a lot to me!

=/\=

As if he were inside the event horizon of a black hole, minutes seemed to stretch into days for Commander Chakotay, whose very essence seemed to vibrate with impatience borne from too much frustration and waiting. He'd attempted a vision quest, but his spirit guide was nowhere to be found; his father, too, was missing, although he suspected the old man would not be able to advise him on the current topic of interest. He'd also attempted to sleep, as his shift was long since over and he had another one coming up far too soon, but with his mind racing, the peaceful bliss of dreams would not come.

Then, like pudding melting in heat, he felt the tension suddenly drain from his body, replaced with a heady mixture of hope and dread at the unexpected door chime.

"Come in," he bade, hoping that whoever it was bore news. He didn't even dare wish for good news. He just wanted to know what was happening, what had happened, and at least as much as it was possible to prescribe, what was to come.

The commander rose to greet his visitor, and the woman who walked in was a startling vision to him: her auburn hair hanging loose and unkempt, her eyes red and puffy from a mixture of tears and lack of sleep, but standing tall and strong, clearly confident in her purpose. His lips parted slightly, and he drew in a sharp breath, preparing himself for the unknown.

But first, he had a house guest, and he intended to be hospitable. "Please sit," he offered, smiling and gesturing towards his couch. Timidly, she nodded, wordlessly accepting his offer, her face remaining serious. "Would you like some tea or coffee?" he continued kindly.

"Chakotay, you don't need to...," she started, then apparently catching wind of his obvious disappointment, she changed her mind. "I'd love a cup of tea," she admitted, and he walked to the replicator to obtain the item, surreptitiously stealing glances back at her periodically to assess her state and her intention. She was obviously nervous now, her legs and arms quivering slightly even as she appeared utterly exhausted. It was also curious that she'd requested an alternative to her usual coffee; he suspected the ship's CMO may have had a hand in her decision. He wondered if the holographic doctor had also ordered her presence here, and guessed he was soon to find out.

Carefully, he placed the steaming beverage on the table in front of her, then sat in an armchair facing her, slightly at an angle. He watched her struggle to meet his eyes, and felt as if a string inside of him had snapped harshly: he could almost hear the twang. Still, he was afraid to speak first, lest he say something to trigger her or otherwise scare her away, so he waited in silence for her to initiate the conversation.

It wasn't long before she spoke, her eyes focused on a point behind his head. "I've been unfair to you, Chakotay," she started, and he wanted to stop her right there, to say he understood and that it was okay, but instead he remained quiet, letting her continue without interruption and fixing a steady gaze upon her, attempting to pick up every subtle cue he could so as not to antagonize her in a moment of abject vulnerability.

"You've been concerned and helpful, and I made demands of you that I had no business making. Please accept my apology."

Every bone in his body screamed to say no, to argue with her that there was nothing to apologize for, and therefore he could not forgive her, but against his instincts, he merely nodded slightly, silently indicating for her to continue. She reached for the tea and took a sip, then replaced it on the table before speaking again.

"The Doctor and I talked for quite some time," she explained. "We came to a mutual agreement that I ought to speak frankly with you about what was going on. I didn't want to, but I eventually realized that you have already seen me at my worst, and you deserve the truth."

He nodded again, his heart racing with anticipation.

"Please understand that I still do not intend to reveal the entirety of my experiences to you, but I hope that what I am about to tell you will allow you to understand enough."

Finally he spoke, choosing his minimal words carefully, but knowing that complete silence on his part might make her uncomfortable. "Go on."

She took a shuddering breath, looking down at her lap and then back up again. "I have learned to anticipate certain aspects of human male behavior," she told him, "and act accordingly. The same isn't always true of alien species, from whom I don't know what to expect. I... let a situation get out of hand. I thought I could woo the official into cooperating with us, and instead I ended up cooperating with him. And acquiescing to some things of which I am deeply ashamed, that I had no viable way of refusing. I wasn't able to regain control of the situation until it was over. The rest you know. I tried to erase my memory and the Doctor's, and ended up... well, you saw me."

He pursed his lips as he contemplated his reply. "It must have been awful," he told her, "in order to evoke such a reaction. I can't imagine."

She shook her head. "It was entirely my fault. I should have known better. I got...," She pronounced the next word carefully, as if she had a bad taste in her mouth, "cocky. And," she looked down at her lap, her cheeks coloring slightly while her voice became low and gravelly, "a little lonely. I guess I thought I could be like Captain Kirk, with a girl on every planet. I forgot that I was the girl, and that that made a difference, even among alien species."

Chakotay battled the simultaneous urges to laugh and to cry. "It shouldn't make a difference," he told her. "And for what it's worth, I don't think anyone on this ship sees you as a girl. You're the captain. And even if you were relieved of duty, I don't think that would change, not in their hearts and minds."

"But would it change if they knew what happened to me?" she asked meekly, glancing contemplatively up at him. Her voice lowered to a whisper as her eyes lowered once more to the floor. "To know how weak I really am?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. Although you seem larger-than-life to us sometimes, and I know you spend a lot of effort keeping up that appearance, we all know you're as flawed and human as the rest of us. Bad things happen, even to starship captains. Captain Picard was captured and tortured by the Cardassians. Hell, he was assimilated and nearly killed his whole crew. But both times, he was rescued and given back his ship. Starship crews don't just abandon their captains when they get hurt. It can be unsettling, yes, especially for the lower ranks, but they always get over it, especially when they love and respect their captain as much as this crew loves and respects you."

Now there were tears running down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away or hide them from his view as she gazed into his eyes for the longest moment he could remember in recent memory. "Thank you," she choked out.

He sighed and gripped the arms of his chair. "But you still don't completely believe it. And I don't know how to show you."

She shook her head in agreement. "I'm afraid," she admitted, blinking more tears out of her eyes.

"And that's understandable," Chakotay told her. "Anyone would be, in your position. But as I recall, you managed to overcome fear, and quite spectacularly: you told it, if I remember correctly, that fear only exists to be conquered, and that all fear eventually vanishes."

She looked down once more, and his heart sped up, sensing that things were about to go awry, and hoping he would be able to manage them without driving her away. "That wasn't me," she pointed out. "I'd programmed the simulation to say that. Some fears never disappear. Or at least, they shouldn't." She looked back up at him, uncertaintly, silently pleading with him to...to what?

Suddenly he understood. "Wait, you're saying this happened because you allowed fear to disappear, and therefore had your guard down? And that fear...it was borne from another experience, or...more than one? This...this has happened to you before, hasn't it? But —," he paused for a moment, feeling bile slip up his throat at the final realization, concluded based upon everything she had just said, "last time, it was a human male."

=/\=