Disclaimer: Still not mine. Darn you, Santa!

AN: I updated the rating due to some mild swearing in a previous chapter, rightly pointed out by a reviewer - sorry about that! The swearing wasn't planned when I originally rated the story and I should have considered this when writing that chapter. For safety's sake I will leave it T for now.

Again - sorry for any mistakes. No Beta :(

"Hi."

Chakotay almost jumped out of his skin as he barrelled into his quarters after his physical to hear a voice from the darkness. The reaction was immediately quieted when he recognised the voice.

"Sekaya," he said, breathless from the shock. In the dim light he saw she was grinning as she sat at his dinner table, twirling a cup of tea between her hands.

"Lights," she said illuminating the room.

"That might have been nice before you almost scared me half way to the Other Side, sister," he grumbled as he moved slowly towards her.

"I felt you deserved a good shock after you abandoned me earlier," she quipped, watching him closely. When she met his eyes he felt his apology nearing and she waved a hand at him. "I was just hoping you were using the time to figure things out with Captain Janeway," she explained away his apology but her eyes held a question.

He smiled and sat down beside her. He should have expected it had been too easy earlier. "Yes," he said and she smiled instantly. "And… no." A frown marred her beautiful face now. He sighed and decided to continue before she asked a hundred of the thousand questions in her eyes. "I already apologised this afternoon." She nodded seeming pleased but still curious. "She… took it rather well." When he smiled remembering, he noticed Sekaya matching his smile.

"So?" she prompted, unable to contain herself.

"So," he shrugged. "I apologised. She accepted. We're good."

"Good?" He nodded. "Good?!" she raised her voice and he looked at her sharply, taken aback. "Chakotay," she started, "you told her you were a complete idiot because you had been a jealous fool?" He agreed. "And you apologised for Seven?" Another nod which she frowned at. "… and you told her you love her - and you're just good?"

"Wait-"

"Unbelievable!" She jumped out of her seat, arms in the air.

"What?" he barked, turning to her. "Wait… well I didn't…" His words made her turn hotly towards him, eyes narrowing.

"You didn't what?" she demanded.

"I didn't… well, I…" he frowned and glanced at the floor. He hadn't told her he loved her. He hadn't planned to. And he hadn't - right?

Or did I?

"You didn't tell her you love her, did you?" she accused with a stabbing finger. His eyes grew as he imagined himself telling Kathryn those words today. He shook his head as his brain concocted no more of a reaction than what had already transpired earlier. The result probably wouldn't have been different - except he would be a smidgen more embarrassed.

"Brother, these last few days I wonder if you lost the brains you grew between the ages of ten and forty nine." Her hand on her hip she looked at him like his mother, scolding him for being a fool.

He scowled back at her. "Sekky, I had no plans to tell her that - I only wanted her friendship back."

"No plans, huh?" Hand still on her hip she pierced him with her black eyes and it made him both angry and concerned. He held her stare until she relented and sat back down again with a sigh.

"So what happened then?" she asked and he wondered why she wouldn't look at him.

"Like I said - I apologised and we made up."

"Hm…"

"I'll admit," he said defensively, "she was easier to convince than I expected." A grunt from her stopped him from continuing.

"Why do you think that was?"

"She's my best friend."

Sekaya was surveying the greyness of the walls with worrying detail. After some time and complete silence, she sighed and rubbed her chin. Glancing towards him she asked, "I really thought you would tell her you love her…"

"I…" Chakotay felt warmth spread across his cheeks as he remembered what he had said to Kathryn and he wondered again if he hadn't actually done just that in a roundabout way. He had wanted to tell B'Elanna - see what she thought about it but he hadn't been able. Should he tell his sister?

"Well. I have a lot of catching up to do," she interrupted his thoughts and got up off the chair with a slow smile. "I am jumping to too many conclusion Chakotay - I'm sorry." She looked sheepish and he felt bereft that she was giving him an out of this conversation. "It's easy to forget the years apart," she said moving closer and clasping his biceps in her two hands, rubbing them. "You've been through so much and you've changed…" She hugged him slowly. "I am just so afraid of you being unhappy," she whispered into his shoulder and he felt his body relax and wind around her. "I want you to be happy."

"I am," he whispered with just a small note of reticence. When she only sighed into his uniform he feared she was as unconvinced as he was. "This situation is just a lot to take in. I need some time," he added. He felt her head bob and she squeezed him against her.

Finally she untangled herself without breaking contact and looked deeply into his eyes with a small smile. "I don't care if it's with Seven or Janeway - or neither," she said quickly. "As long as you're happy."

He nodded dumbly, unsure of why she looked so concerned about him and he wanted to reassure her he was fine. "The world is my oyster again, sister. This journey, the past, what I have missed, what I have experienced, has taken a lot from me. But it has given me so much… so much as well. Including a clean slate and an open future."

"Ok," she said, head bobbing again. Pulling away fully she smiled. "Ok." He smiled back and she let him go. With an audible breath she motioned to the door. "Big day tomorrow," she yawned. "I'll let you get some rest."

A quick kiss, another hug and a strange lingering look later, his sister was gone and the room was quiet again.

His sister's strange behaviour was soon forgotten though, as he thought again about his conversation with the Doctor and he wondered if Kathryn would be sleeping already. The time said it was 22:25hrs. She could be sleeping, but it was unlikely, given that Kathryn slept little on a regular night and tomorrow was such an important day that he expected she wouldn't sleep at all tonight. But she might be trying to…

He glanced at the wall that connected their quarters, struggling with checking in on her, and potentially waking her up. She was exhausted, he was certain of it. He had seen it in the occasional sagging of her shoulders over the last few days, the irritability that was scratching just on her surface and, as he cast his mind back, she had looked very pale in Sickbay earlier. What if she had actually succumbed to that exhaustion and was sleeping restfully now?

With a swift shake of his head and an amused, quiet laugh, he reminded himself he was being ridiculous. This was Kathryn. On the eve of the day she had waited seven long years for.

There is no way in hell she's sleeping.

Before the thought was even escaping out of his brain his hand had already slapped his comm. badge. "Chakotay to Janeway."

"Janeway here." Her voice, crisp and alert, soothed worried strings inside him and with a smile he glanced at the ground.

"Are you busy, Kathryn?" he asked informally, now hearing soft strings of music floating in the background of her link.

"Depends on your problem," she quipped and he laughed silently. She was certainly tired, but she was being friendly about it. She was telling him she didn't want to be bothered with something menial right now - it had better be important or it would stay his problem.

"No problem," he said imagining her irritably confused look on the other side. "I…" he stopped, realising he hadn't thought up an excuse. "I just…"

Well, damn it…

"Chakotay?"

The concern in her voice was enough to illicit panic and so he quickly responded. "I can't imagine closing my last evening on Voyager without you."

When silence met his ears he started to feel anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Maybe on top of what he had said earlier - that, had been too much. He should back track quickly - but how? A joke? Inject something more formal? Ask if she would mind if Tuvok joined?

Tuvok?

Before he could think too much on why his mind had conjured Tuvok into the excuse, he froze, hearing her take a deep breath over the line - it was subtle, but he heard it amid the chaos in his own mind.

"Bring a bottle of merlot."

He felt the link close and he blinked. Taking a moment's pause he realised either she hadn't thought it awkward or she was ignoring it.

Or maybe embracing it…

He hurried his brain to get over it regardless, replicated a bottle of her favourite merlot and with a long, calming breath he made for her quarters.

The soft, swirling, sexy music that was floating beneath the surface of the comm link a few minutes ago now enveloped him as he entered her quarters, wine grasped tightly in his fingers. Smooth jazz, saxophone and tingling piano wound in waves around him and permeated his cells, relaxing his body and allowing an eerie calmness to fall on him. The lights were low and the room smelled like candles and berries.

He spotted Kathryn coming towards him with a smile and his eyebrows lifted as he realised she was in her nightwear. Pink, satin nightwear.

A smouldering female voice began singing and he felt his breath hitch as Kathryn neared, stopping mere centimetres from him and reached for the wine. As she stopped, she rasped a short hello and flashed her crooked smile. When her fingers brushed his, their eyes met and he swore he saw hers glitter. Then it was gone and she was moving away with the wine.

He finally took a breath as he looked at her back. Trying not to notice that her hair was still damp and loose from the bath that was clearly the root of the delicious smell that was curling up his nostrils. And willing himself not to drink in the curves the satin clung to with merciless fluidity. The clink of a glass derailed the path his eyes were taking down the back of her body and he focused instead on how she poured the wine. When his eyes found her hands moving gracefully from glass to glass, to wine bottle, he followed up her bare arms, toned shoulder and... swallowed, looked quickly out at the stars and tried to listen to the music.

"Here," she was soon beside him again with a glass for both of them, smiling warmly at him. He accepted the glass, but continued to keep his eyes on the stars. Finding them familiar was enough to distract him and it made him smile with energy. And gratefulness. They were home.

Because of her.

"You did it," he said simply, seriously, and he looked to his left to see her looking at him. He allowed an almightily smile to erupt on his face and rejoiced when he saw her stop fighting against the one that was currently plastered on hers. She pulled her eyes towards the stars too and he saw them focus far away… or maybe not so far anymore.

"We did it," she whispered, reaching for his free hand with hers, giving it a squeeze. He nodded, unwilling for just a second to ruin this moment by reminding her how many times she had pulled a solution of out of nothing over the years - how many times she had done what no one else could have done, how many times she had kept going when everyone else, including himself, would have given up.

"To you anyway," he said, raising his glass towards hers. She rolled her eyes.

"I feel like we've done this already," she quipped, feeling awkward and reminding him of their champagne toast in the early hours of their arrival as she let go of his hand.

He dipped his head in acknowledgement but looked back up quickly with a slight shake of his head.

"No," he said. Quietly. Earnestly. "No," he repeated, another shake of his head. "I want you to know this, Kathryn…" He angled his body towards her, taking stock of the surprise in her features. "We could never have done this without you. I could never have done this without you. You did this. You got us home." Her eyes grew and fluctuated with emotion until she broke their gaze, uncomfortable. "And when I say you," he began, an edge of command to his voice as he reached for her chin and gently pulled her head back to look at him. "I don't mean the crew, I don't mean Starfleet… and I don't mean the admiral."

He saw a flash in her eyes at the last comment and his insides imploded - the Doctor's fears clearly had some ground. Her eyes continued to stare at him, probably warring with emotion but he didn't want to make things difficult for her - he only needed to make it clear to her what she had accomplished. He wanted to know if she would accept that, and if yes or no, how that affected her. Slowly though. Kathryn didn't handle emotional onslaught well, and especially not with speed.

When he felt a slight nodding movement in her head he released her from his hand and looked back to the stars, giving her a moment.

The song ended and the silence that followed was pregnant with aftermath of his comments. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her take a sip of wine, using two hands to bring the glass to her mouth. She was steeling herself, he could tell. She needed more than a moment, she needed a distraction. A new song started and the corners of his mouth curled as the jazz oscillated through his bones.

"I thought you listened to Tchaikovsky for relaxation," he said, motioning with a swoop of his glass outward from his body to the notes that trickled along the walls of her quarters.

"Hmm," she responded and he wondered if that was an agreement or not. He glanced over to her and watched as she stared off into the distance of the room, no longer at the stars, and he couldn't help but describe the way she half smiled and licked her lips as sexy.

Sexy as hell.

"You like it?"

"Yes," he answered without thinking. The voice that accompanied the music drilled tendrils into his heart and was melting his inhibitions. He was already certain that once he left, something new would be added to his music collection. Something about this sad, jazzy artist was already captivating him… if for nothing else than the way it made him feel - with her - right now.

"Melody Cardot," she explained looking at him now, eyebrows flicking up and eyes closing, listening to the words of the song as it continued.

He tilted his head in question, but her eyes were still closed and he dare not do anything to force them open. So instead he listened intently with her.

"… I need a hand with my worrisome heart

I would be lucky to find me a man

Who could love me the way that I am

With this here worrisome heart…"

"Very melancholy, I know."

Chakotay, pulled in by the music, had ceased to examine her. Something, she seemed to be presently doing to him. He recovered quickly with a quirk of his left eyebrow in agreement.

He cleared his throat against the music that was continuing over their conversation. "Sounds like what Seven was singing in the World War II re-enactment the Hirogen put us through."

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of Seven and he kicked himself. She was still pissed about that - and he had most likely killed the easy mood. A part of him was reminded that this wasn't a bad thing. A little more of the wine and this music, coupled with the way Kathryn looked and smelled right now would soon be his undoing. Just the mere presence of Kathryn at the moment was uncoiling his emotions right back to the start. He was reacting like the lovesick fool he had been in the years before Seven, before Quarra, before those damn insects. And that would be bad, right?

The worst thing was, he didn't want to fight it. Not at all. He was madly in love with her. And right here, right now, was a potential scenario he had dreamed of for many years - even after she had told him they couldn't be together. For she had told him they could - one day - when they got home.

And here they were.

With wine, music, melancholy - as she had said - and… intimacy. He had imagined moments like this, moments that started less perfect than this and had ended up with her in his arms and he wondered… he wondered, if he told her right now…

He looked right at her, but she was staring back out the viewport again, her brow furrowed and it quickly wiped his romantic illusions away. He didn't come here to fulfil some romantic notion he'd had for years. He had come to check on her, not try to seduce her. And lest he forget about Seven!

What is wrong with me?

"Kathryn?" Her head turned slowly to him. "How are you - with all of this?" he asked and moved towards her, noticing that she was growing uneasy with each inch. "Really?"

"I'm fine, Chakotay."

"Yes. And you would say that if you had just had-"

"-my arm torn off by a Trayken Beast," she snipped, glaring at him. "But it doesn't change the fact that I am!"

He closed the little space that remained between them and stared down at her, commanding with his posture, but gently. "Don't lie to me," he whispered. "You don't have to." Her head jerked to the side and he watched the wine slosh a little in her glass.

She said nothing further and only held the eternal, statue-like position she had just formed into, perhaps in the hope that if she didn't move, she could pause the moment and as time passed, it would be forgotten. His eyes slammed shut in exasperation and stress - worry - and he had to stop himself from sighing at her.

"I have told you that I was worried, afraid, angry - lost," he professed, his eyes flying open. He felt her loosen and he brought his hand to her upper arm. "I bared my worst fears to you, Kathryn. Not because you are my captain, not because it involved you, and not because it was easy…" he swallowed, remembering how it had felt to push the words past the bile in his stomach and the lump in his throat. "…I told you… because I trust you and because I know you care about me." At this he noticed her eyes flick to him. "And I knew you would help me." Remorse creeped into her expression and it almost looked as if she wanted to cry. But Kathryn never cried. "You trust me, don't you?" If possible she looked even more guilty and it made him regret asking what had been meant as a rhetorical question.

She parted her lips as if to say something but instead she just gave a quick nod of her head. "You've been troubled since the admiral left," he said and felt the muscles in her arm stiffen below his fingers. He watched her swallow and stare off into the distance, something briefly passing over her face that he couldn't name. Then she gently moved out of his grasp and walked towards her couch.

"She sacrificed a lot for us," she whispered over her shoulder. He frowned - that wasn't it. Of course she had been sad about the sacrifice, but not only did it have to happen for their plan to work, things were always different when it was about sacrificing herself. She would easily jump into a warp core breach to save others, no questions asked. One rule for her, another for everyone else. So he doubted she felt much different about encouraging her older counterpart into self sacrifice either.

"She made that choice," he countered and she looked swiftly at him. "She knew there was no going back when she came here, one way or the other." He saw agreement cloud her eyes and then she blinked and looked away.

"Yes," she whispered, looking deeply into her glass. "But, she changed it all."

"History?"

She nodded. "She changed so much, just for us. Just to get us home."

He nodded back, thoughtfully considering it now. The entire timeline that the admiral had experienced would never come to be. Twenty or thirty years were now lost, the only evidence that they ever existed was what the Voyager crew knew… which lay mostly with Kathryn. She was the one the admiral had divulged the most to. The rest she had sent out in snares for a few people like Seven whom she intended to manipulate. How much had she told Kathryn? And how much of what she told her was also intended to manipulate? He was certain most of it. If there was one thing Kathryn knew masterfully it was manipulation - she wielded it so many times and in so many creative forms that he had grown to admire it, except of course, when she turned it on him. But, perhaps the admiral had met her match. Kathryn had certainly changed her mind about the original plan… but she also had an extra few decades of practice on Kathryn. What if she had won a few of the battles before Kathryn won the war?

"Whatever she told you, Kathryn, you can't be sure it wasn't more than a wish to steer you into doing what she wanted." Her eyes flashed so heatedly he thought she might slap him, and he was mentally rebuked by the power of it. It was then he realised that she didn't completely see the admiral as a different person. She was her. And he had just called her out on one of the dark skills that he saw her use so many times. He had been referring to the admiral, but the heat in her eyes was telling him she did not see it that way. He quickly forged on, "She's not you."

"No?" she asked acerbically, cocking her head.

"No." Now he was starting to realise what was wrong.

"She bent an entire timeline to get what she wanted. Nothing stood in her way. Not rules, not regulations, not even loved ones," she looked at him now and he saw her eyes glistening but her expression was hard with anger.

"She did it to save a lot of people," he explained. He knew Kathryn wouldn't ever do something so crazy unless it was to help.

"She did it for herself," she spat.

He stared at her but she wouldn't meet his eyes. Why would she think that? What had the admiral told her to make her think this wasn't about saving lives and instead something selfish?

"I don't believe that for a second," he said softly, wanting to go to her but knowing by her body language that he really needed to keep his distance for now.

She snorted in response and took a sip of wine. "Then you don't know me very well, Chakotay," she shot back, her face somehow sad and seething at the same time. Her comment stung but he knew she was only angry at herself so he let it slide.

"Even if she did," he said, hoping that not overtly disagreeing with her again might help to calm her down. "She's not you. Kathryn, don't you see that?" he implored and this time he took a tentative step towards her. Her eyes slid towards him but she didn't pounce, with body nor with words, and so he took the remaining three steps to reach her.

She looked back to her glass, ignoring his closeness, and breathed into it. "She could be…"

Oh, Kathryn…

"Not anymore," he said with resolve. He still wasn't sure what was so horrible about the admiral that Kathryn seemed terrified to become her, but he could help to make her see that that didn't ever need to happen now. "Everything that made her - that changed her from you. It's all gone now. And even if it wasn't, we know enough to make sure it doesn't happen."

"Maybe," she answered curtly. "But I can't help but wonder… still stuck in the Delta Quadrant, if I had been given the means she had used to get us home - would I have wiped away an entire timeline to suit a whim?" She seemed to want him to answer her. Would she have wreaked havoc on the timeline and countless lives to achieve her goal?

"No," he answered and her eyebrows reached upwards at the certainty in his tone. "You already proved that when you turned us around the first time." She seemed to consider this as if for the first time and took another sip of wine.

Silence fell between them again, and the slow sad music drifted back to his ears as he moved away to reach for his glass of wine and let her have a moment to think about that. As he sipped, he saw darkness grip her face again. She was going to need a lot more than this conversation to convince her, but he wasn't quitting yet.

"She's not you, Kathryn." He wanted to sound supportive, firm, but he was frustrated and even to his ears it came out annoyed and exasperated. She turned her head over her shoulder to consider him and, watching her closely, in fear that his tone had angered her further, his body stilled for a minute, waiting, but she just kept eerie eyes on him. "I know that. Even if you don't."

"You do?" she asked plainly, emotionlessly as her head returned her eyes to something less animate, dispassionate, like her voice.

"Yes," he answered. He wanted to provide something more concrete but Kathryn needed plain and simple right now a lot more than flowery professions.

"How?" she asked, turning, interested but with something dangerous simmering beneath her expression - he could feel it.

As he began to form an answer he heard his comm badge beep. "Seven of Nine to Chakotay."

His veins turned to ice and fire at once and while he was momentarily trying to centre himself to answer Seven, he saw her withdraw. Her facial muscles jerked just slightly and she schooled her expression. No longer did she look dark or pained or distraught. She was suddenly Captain Janeway again, just sipping wine and staring out at the stars.

He damned bad timing to hell.

"Chakotay here." He had to answer.

"I…" Seven faltered and he tried to focus on her, instead of the iciness that was growing like a glacier between him and Kathryn. "The computer informed me you were still awake. I hope I am not disturbing you?" The question in her voice left no room for doubt about how he might have sounded when he answered her.

He knew Seven was terrified about what would happen tomorrow - she was probably seeking his counsel - finally. But so was Kathryn. Who needed him more? Who deserved his attention more? Who did he want to be there for more? All answers conflicted with each other, in more ways than one and he felt himself stop, the silence surely giving way to an awkwardness that he didn't want either party to be privy to - but there it was.

"It can wait," Seven's slow, unsure voice came, like a shy young girl, embarrassed she had called in the first place. He felt instantly guilty. Hell, he was already feeling guilty. The walls that Kathryn had thrown up the minute the call came had him in the depths of self loathing and, not for the first time, he wondered why he felt like this. It shouldn't be like this. Perhaps he should feel guilty about one of them… but both? His heart was telling him that he was doing something very, very wrong for it to feel like this. The problem was… he wanted them both to be happy. He cared for both of them. And, really, how was he to chose between them, if he had to?

"Seven-" he tried desperately to interrupt her quickly before she cut him off, to come up with something right to say, and then he saw a hand wave through the air beside him.

"Go," she said. He waited a breath and then she turned to him, swinging her glass towards the door, her face cool as she annunciated with clarity and repeated, "Go."

He frowned at her as she turned her back, a sign that she was finished with this conversation and he felt a small flare of anger ripple inside him. He slapped his comm badge, unsure the line to Seven was still open - hoping it hadn't been - and said. "I'll be there shortly, Seven," he answered softly. He watched Kathryn but she didn't react and a second later he heard Seven's voice respond very quietly, thankfully in her own Borg-like acknowledgement.

"Kathryn," he called for her attention. Not gently. Not harshly. It had been the wrong tone, apparently. She ignored him and sipped from her glass. "Kathryn!" This time harder, insistent but careful not to sound harsh. He noticed a falter in the way she drew breath. "Look at me," he pleaded. Her eyes slid shut slowly, and unlocked with painful lethargy. But when they did, her blue eyes were directed cuttingly at him. He took a deep breath, but masked it as best he could as he approached her.

She was certainly not ignoring him now, yet she did not seem herself either, and she was sizing him up as he neared, almost like she would an unknown alien, preparing for anything that might come. It saddened him to think she held those walls between them in any situation. She was playing Captain Janeway.

Playing the part.

Like she always did. He knew better than anyone that this part she played wasn't really her. Many on Voyager didn't know much aside from 'Captain Janeway'. The Captain was strong, brave, beautiful - fearless. But that Captain was kind, caring, compassionate - a humanitarian, someone who treasured life, love and family, and they saw this sometimes too. But Kathryn never saw that. She didn't seem to realise just how much they knew about the softer part of the captain - the parts that Kathryn bled into Janeway, whether she intended it or not. She wasn't aware what she communicated through a simple touch, a simple look, a stance that she took in their defence. She played the part, and she thought she was successful at locking Kathryn up from everyone. She was good at it. For sure. But never completely successful.

And she was wholeheartedly unsuccessful right now as she stared into his eyes, mere inches from him. He was captured for a moment, the words he had wanted to say dying on his lips as the intensity of her gaze willed him into a world with it alone. The room seemed to disappear and his entire vision centred on her face as he saw the colours of Kathryn swirl before him in a beautiful, hazy dance. Her eyes seemed bluer, her checks pinker and her lips… fuller… and as they parted a centimetre he focused on them, forgetting what he wanted to say, forgetting where he was, consumed only by the wish to wet them, to run his tongue over them and capture them. To show her with his passion that she needn't worry about the demons she was wrestling with because he would chase them away. He would chase them back to the darkness they had been borne of and stay there holding them down if it would keep her safe.

The thought reminded him that she needed to hear that. "I will never let it happen," he promised her, referring to the admiral. "I'm here." And he reached a hand to touch her shoulder as if to confirm it. If she didn't believe that she was strong enough to avoid whatever she was afraid of, perhaps all she needed was to hear him say he would make certain of it. "I will always be here." This time, he let his hand glide to rest over her heart.

It sat there, almost not touching her, yet reaching inside of her at the same time and she regarded it as if it held her life source. In a way, it did, he imagined with a smile. He noticed the contours of her face grow soft, sad, happy and overwhelmed all at once. It made his sorry, bleak heart skip and he felt for just a moment like he had reached into her and saw her everything. Her entire body now seemed to react to the touch. Her lungs released a slow breath, her eyes grew heavy, her shoulders loosened and her arms fell to her sides, her hand barely keeping hold of the glass she held. He felt a smile bloom within him and his hand twitched, wanting to move to her neck, her jaw, her face.

As it did, of its own accord, suddenly in response, she loosened more, but too much. So much so that she gasped quietly, her eyes rolling and her head falling backwards, her body following. As he caught her in his arms two wine glasses smashed onto the grey carpet, bleeding rivers of red that would forever remind him of this moment.

For two seconds he just stared in shock at her, his heart pounding. Her colour was grey and her eyes were gone - not closed but instead her beautiful blue irises were rolled back horribly into her head, revealing a stark whiteness to him that along with the sickly pallor of her skin made him panic.

"Kathryn," he said, alarmed and kneeling now, her body cradled in his arms over his knees. She remained deathly still and he shook her gently and tried again, "Kathryn!" This time he felt her move and holding his breath, he noticed her eyes flutter. Her eyelids closed and when they slowly reopened he was glad to see blue instead of white.

"Chakotay…" she whispered, bringing a hand to her forehead. He helped her sit up a little, allowing her lower body to rest on him.

"You fainted," he explained watching her eyes dart around, confused. She looked disturbed by this only briefly before he felt her try to stand. He helped her, but refused to let her go completely.

"We should get you checked out," he said cautiously - waiting for the argument as she steadied herself in his arms.

"No." As expected. She levelled him with a gaze that was more pleading than commanding and when she placed a hand on his chest for balance and emphasis he bowed his head. "I have to admit, I have a lot to deal with right now… and its taking its toll."

He was surprised she was even admitting the frailty, but he still wanted to find out why she had fainted.

"Dr. Crusher checked me out this morning and gave me a clean bill of health," she argued with less than her usual gusto, still winded and dizzy from fainting. "She did mention I needed to rest. Lower my stress levels." She rolled her eyes at him as he gave her a reproaching stare. "I know," she said. "So… rest."

He nodded, realising she was asking him to leave. Reluctant to let go of her and to leave her alone, he didn't move and kept hold of her.

"Chakotay?"

"Hm?"

"You need to leave." He frowned at her. "For me to actually get rest, you need to leave." When she smiled he felt a small piece of renewal grow inside him and it allowed him to let go of her. He still didn't want to leave.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes," she said quickly, kneading her forehead. "I just haven't slept in…" she paused her movement and her face went blank. She couldn't remember. "Well," she continued, avoiding his eyes and seeming embarrassed. "Goodnight." She nodded and turned away. He knew it was time to leave. Seven was waiting.

"Goodnight, Kathryn," he said and saw her nod as she retreated into her bedroom, not even waiting until he left. He wondered if she would even notice if he stayed here. Maybe he could clean up the wine? He should at least stay until he could hear her hit her bed. Then he would leave. After that he would leave.

Because Seven was waiting.

A long, deep sigh reached his ears, and he heard the hiss of the bedsheets as her small frame pressed onto them. With reluctance, he left. She needed rest and…

Seven was waiting.