Note (1): Yes, I know it has been a long time... nearly a month actually. I blame University, but also don't at the same time. I am meeting so many new people, having so much fun (I play underwater hockey, I mean isn't that cool?! ), although, the workload is extortionate... either way, I'm enjoying what I'm doing, and I'm afraid fanfic is taking a backseat unless something really starts to get me down. Or if I magically end up having time.

Thanks as always to Mrs Singing Violin for helping me with this chapter... It may still not be perfect as I edited since she last saw it, so if there are mistakes, please don't be mean about them... Also thank you to everyone who reads and reviews :)

The corridors were as quiet during the night shift as Kathryn remembered them; she had often found herself wandering through her empty ship when sleep evaded her. On the surface, tonight seemed exactly the same – just a restless captain and her vessel – but this night was different. As Kathryn ran her fingers across the walls, she realised just how much she missed it all: the standard-issue carpet, worn in places by the sheer volume of traffic it had been subjected to over the past four years, the way that the low-level lighting cast shadows across the floor, the gentle hum of an empty turbolift. The majority of her time now was spent confined to her quarters, and the little escapade she'd just engineered suddenly felt quite daring.

She wandered aimlessly through the halls for a while, reacquainting herself with the sound and feel of her ship. However, she found herself avoiding crowded areas such as the mess hall and Engineering, as even the idea of interacting with her crew consistently sparked an irrational panic. A mere close call as she heard McKenzie and Nicoletti rounding a corner left Kathryn cowering in a storage locker for several minutes.

As the alpha shift approached, the bustle slowly increased. Kathryn found herself making her way back to deck three, but not to her quarters. Her feet and her subconscious led her instead to the door of her former security officer's quarters. Without thinking, she pressed the chime.

"Enter."

"Good morning, Tuvok," she called as the doors closed behind her. She surveyed the calm of her new surroundings and smiled lightly when her gaze found her friend, who was seated at his dining table finishing his breakfast.

A slight frown brought his eyebrows together as he tried to discern her position from him. "I was under the impression that our arrangement was for me to visit you, Captain."

"I've told you again and again; don't call me 'Captain'!" The small word sparked a wave of emotions she was unable to control. Anger surfaced as the dominant force, propelling her hand hard against the table and creating a noise that caught Tuvok's attention. He turned his body towards the direction of the sound, his clouded eyes creating an illusion of focus at a point hovering just beyond her left ear.

"And I have told you that I am unable to refer to you any other way." The lack of eye contact, albeit by no fault of his own, struck her, not for the first time. Her oldest friend was blind, and it was her fault, and acknowledging that only added fuel to her temper.

"Kathryn," she corrected. "Call me Kathryn! That is my name, after all."

"I would consider that inappropriate. Commander Chakotay calls you Kathryn, it is personal between the two of you," he stated quietly.

"My mother calls me Kathryn!"

"Hopefully not in the same tone." The delivery of the line with his clear Vulcan intonation cut through the air like a knife, subduing the surge of her temper. Shakily, Kathryn pulled out the chair opposite her friend and sat down.

"No, I guess she doesn't," she murmured, tears gathering in her eyes. "I miss her, Tuvok."

An uneasy quiet fell between them, punctuated only by her soft sniffles as she cried to herself. Before, she would have silenced them, embarrassed to cry in front of her friend, but continued sessions with Tuvok in which he came face to face with her violent moods had made her more comfortable in his presence. This, combined with her exhaustion left her unable and unwilling to even attempt to combat the wave that struck her.

Frowning again, Tuvok broke the silence. "Captain, how long have you been awake?"

"What does that matter?" she croaked, rubbing the heels of her palms into her already-sore eyes.

"Your behaviour patterns are less variable during the immediate hours after you wake. Your current condition suggests that it has been several hours since you stirred, and that you did not obtain your required quota of rest," the Vulcan stated, tilting his head to one side. "Also, you are two hours ahead of schedule even for our timetabled meeting. How much sleep did you acquire?"

"I don't know... three, possibly three and a half, hours..."

"And how many hours have you been awake, Captain?"

"Four, nearly five," she confessed.

"May I ask why?"

"I needed an escape." She reached out towards him and took his hand in hers. Through the tenuous link, she conveyed her need for distraction following her dream, coupled with the satisfaction - albeit temporary - that her little exploit had brought her.

"Where is Commander Chakotay?" His question sparked a vision of Chakotay still sleeping, a small smile on his face, followed by a wave of emotions that she unashamedly allowed through. Through their meetings, Tuvok had become accustomed to Kathryn's turbulent emotions... and acutely aware of her feelings for her first officer. Small distractions, a word or a phrase, would often trip her mind back to thoughts of the commander. After struggling for a few days to restrain them, both Tuvok and Kathryn had agreed that it would make the connection easier if she didn't attempt to hide them.

"I didn't want to wake him."

"Are you sure that was wise?"

"No... I don't know," she sighed. With her free hand, she rubbed small circles into her temples, her mind flooding with a catalogue of images of her first officer pushing her away, keeping their relationship platonic despite her wishes. Always hiding behind the excuse that she was ill. "He needs his rest; he's run off his feet trying to manage the ship, he worries too much – he hasn't got a good night's sleep for weeks. When my nightmare didn't wake him, I couldn't bring myself to disturb him. He looked so peaceful."

"Perhaps breakfast would bring some calm."

"That would be nice." She glanced up at the replicator. "Shall I order?"

"No, thank you. I am able." Tuvok withdrew his hand and stood, clumsily pushing his chair back. Feeling his way across the wall, he reached the replicator and called, "Computer, two slices of toast, buttered." He carried the food back to the table gingerly, sliding it across the surface in her vague direction.

"Thank you, Tuvok."

"I will wait until you are ready to discuss whatever is occupying your mind," he promised, folding his hands neatly in his lap.

A more comfortable silence blanketed the Vulcan's quarters as Kathryn ate her breakfast. It was a little burnt around the edges, but she wasn't going to complain. Anything was better than what she might have concocted.

"Well, it's not too bad."

"Kathryn, you managed to burn rice. I didn't even think that was possible!"

"At least you know it's cooked..."

Absent-mindedly, she tapped the fingers of her left hand on the table as she remembered the conversation of the previous night. In all honesty, the replicated dinner had been a disaster. But what haunted her was the way Chakotay had looked at her for the rest of the evening. It was subtle, and only when he thought she wasn't aware: he'd looked pained, almost wistful — as though he recognised she wasn't the same as before, and he missed that other Kathryn. She missed her too. She steeled herself, placing her toast back on the plate before breaking the stillness. Unsure of how to begin, she chose to be blunt.

"I only ever see his concern when he's awake now: those sad, disappointed eyes people get when reality doesn't live up to their expectations." She turned the crust over between her fingers, trying desperately to find the right words to explain herself. "I'm not his Kathryn anymore. He's pulling away. My instability... it's tearing us apart."

Blinking slowly, Tuvok frowned. "I disagree. I have never known the two of you to be closer. You never slept in the same bed as your first officer before a few weeks ago, did you?"

"No, Tuvok, I didn't," she confirmed, glancing up to see her friend's face: straight, unsmiling, one eyebrow raised. To her, he was readable, and she chuckled indignantly while leaning back in her chair. "Don't give me that look. It's... logical. When the nightmares start, he's already there; there's no delay while he comes over. Also, he usually picks them up earlier than if he were in a separate room; he's aware of when I start moving, and he's at least able to attempt to wake me instead of allowing the dreams to progress."

"Does that result in the nightmares ending sooner?"

"No," she admitted grudgingly. "They always play to their completion."

"Then your argument is illogical."

"Okay, fine. Perhaps it's just a comfort to both of us. I don't really remember when it started." This was true. Somewhere in the weeks since the reset, Chakotay's blanket had found its way into her quarters. He would sleep on top of her covers and cocoon himself in his. But he was there: he was beside her, and his steady breathing was often the only thing that could lull her to sleep. All she could see each day was his face as she startled awake, his sad eyes glinting in the dark. She swallowed painfully. "But he doesn't look at me the same way as he did before this happened. His face used to light up, but now it's always clouded by concern." She sighed then, pushing her plate away.

"I predict that the change will not be permanent." Tuvok's voice was quiet, yet certain, inciting Kathryn's curiosity. Before she could ask for his reasons, he began again, "Captain, I have been thinking about something that may be of aid to you."

"Yes?" she prompted.

"The Doctor would deem the procedure unsafe, but I believe it would help." Tuvok placed his palms flat on the table, tilting his gaze towards the surface. "I would like to initiate a mind meld with you."

"Tuvok," Kathryn warned, wary of the procedure due to previous incidents earlier in their voyage. "What do you hope to achieve?"

"Stability." He lifted his head, reaching out with one of his hands towards her again. "While meditation has helped in the short term, you say the effects wear off in just over an hour. I believe that our connection would help you to extend your results."

"Would it help me to make sense of what happened? Could you help me remember how the timeline ended?" she asked hopefully, grasping his fingers, allowing her apprehensions ̶ as well as her optimism ̶ to be known.

"Potentially. But if there is a block on your memories, either by your own creation or enforced, it is unlikely that I will be able to remove it."

"What would be causing the block? And if there even is one, why am I remembering in such a muddled way? Why is it that each section of the timeline only becomes clearer after it appears in my nightmares? Why can't I remember how it ends?"

"These are unknowns. The meld will assist us in discovering answers."

"If it'll help," she answered uneasily, swallowing before elaborating. "If it will get me back to my bridge, I want to do it."

"Very well. Come." Tuvok nodded by way of invitation before making his way to the centre of the room. Reaching for the wall panel as he passed, he tapped out a short message before carefully lowering himself to the floor and gesturing that she should do the same. Once she had copied his posture, he reached out, hesitant as his fingers made contact with the soft skin across her jaw. He could sense her trepidation, memories of being nervous: exams, first commands, even starting conversations dancing across her mind, images of his quarters flitting in between. "Close your eyes," he requested.

He positioned his fingers carefully across her face, applying light pressure. Gradually, their breathing fell into sync, and he began his ritual to initiate the meld, the familiar words tumbling off of his tongue and through the connection: deepening, strengthening it.

"My mind to your mind, your thoughts to my thoughts..."

Note (2): Right, you've just read that, I now need some help. If anyone has any advice, or any stories I could use to research how to best present a mind meld, please message me. I am struggling immensely, and it would really help bring the next chapter to you quicker.

Thanks for reading!

Lia