Disclaimer: ST: VOY isn't mine. How many people think I should have it? (raises her hand) Oh fudge...

Author's Note: Yes, the all-mighty cliche "Tuvok's training exercise" scenario. I'm aware it's been over-done. It's never been done by me though. ;)

Volatile
By mistress amethyst une

Part 14: The Dead Don't Strip, Commander

In her dream. On the forehead. While she was sick.

That "kiss" didn't mean anything!

Now that she'd figured it out, she was utterly disappointed. Yet another fantasy about him conjured by her intimacy deprivation? This was made worse by the fact that this fantasy was particularly tame. Was she growing less fond of him?

Throwing him a confused glance, she was more than a little amused at how he'd visibly paled. What was the matter with him? Aside from regularly turning her head with his looks, he certainly got the wheels in her head turning with his actions. Certainly, he didn't think she was upset by his gesture? It was thoughtful of him to want to smooth her frown away. Then again, he'd quickly recoiled from her the moment their eyes had connected, when she'd had her realization...

She wanted to tell him it was all right, that she'd appreciated his touch. Still, speaking again would prove much too taxing. She was not a fan of unnecessary pain. Smiling kindly, she reached out to stroke his cheek, causing more blood than was necessary to rush to his face. Well, at least he wasn't pale anymore. He was clammy though. Cold. The temperature in the room helped to keep her cool in her fever but...it was a miracle he wasn't shivering.

No, she wasn't growing any less fond of him at all. After seven years, she was quite sure she couldn't be put off her liking of him any more than she could be put off her addiction to coffee. Actually, the fact that he was the only one who could talk her into giving up coffee, albeit for very short periods of time, spoke volumes about what she thought of the man. One obsession standing in the way of the other...

The fact that she hadn't bitten his head off for drugging her also said a lot.

He cleared his throat, excusing himself. Rapidly, he spat out a monologue regarding reports that needed to be done, a briefing he had to preside over, and a diagnostic he had to check up on. He punctuated that verbal list with a promise to return at dinner. Nearly stumbling over his own legs as he ran about her quarters in a flurry, he quickly tidied up before departing.

"Take care of yourself," he told her, not knowing what else to say as he was halfway out the door. Just like that he was gone, and she was left to stew in her confusion.

Well, that was...odd. What exactly had happened? One minute he'd been in front of her, and the next he was out the door. He sure had a penchant for hasty exits. She couldn't help but chuckle. Despite that, he always ended up dead in Tuvok's emergency drills. Then again, so did she.

"You would have lived if you'd left five minutes ago. It's only the captain who has to go down with the ship."

He threw her that boyish grin that always made her weak in the knees. It was fortunate that they were both lying on the bridge floor, since she was quite sure she would have visibly lost her composure under the influence of that dimpled smile.

"Isn't there an unspoken rule about the first officer going down with the captain?"

She rolled her eyes at that statement, absentmindedly rapping her fingers on the floor, amusing herself with no particular beat or rhythm. They were lying face to face, and she was getting quite tired of being dead. It didn't help that Tuvok had taken environmental controls off-line for realism's sake. She and Chakotay were thoroughly sweating it out in their uniforms. Would it have killed the Vulcan to take into consideration that maybe, just maybe, environmental controls could survive an alien attack?

Sighing, she stopped her bored hand movements, and closed her eyes. She wondered if she could nap despite the hard floor and the heat. If she was out cold, that contributed to Tuvok's vision of an accurate scenario, didn't it? Out cold...she scoffed at the idiom. Right now, she felt like she was on fire.

Lazily, she opened her eyes to see Chakotay sitting up and taking off his uniform jacket and turtleneck. She would have followed his example if the heat hadn't sapped her strength. Instead, she continued lying on the floor as if glued there by her sweat.

"The dead don't strip, Commander," she teased.

"They don't talk either," he smirked, lying down beside her again. Tuvok would kill him if he wasn't at the "site of his demise."

"How are you going to explain your change of attire to Tuvok?" she asked, unable to keep from admiring his strong shoulders. As much as she hated to admit it, he looked better in a tank top than she did.

He shrugged. "Alien stole it right before they harvested my organs."

She laughed. "Good one. I'd undress, too, but I can't think of a better excuse than yours."

Wickedly, he grinned. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

Even when she was covered in sweat, and defenseless on the floor, her stare still burned more than the heat. "Help me get out of these clothes, then?"

His cheeks visibly colored but his voice was the sound of calm itself. "What's the penalty for dressing down a superior officer?"

The drill had ended before she could answer his loaded question. Fortunately for Chakotay, Tuvok wasn't as much a stickler for detail as they thought, and the excuse went unused. Still, they were both given a thorough Vulcan scolding for failing to survive a single training exercise. Oh well...

She was in no mood for sleep now, having had more than her fill throughout the day. Still, she was in no mood to get up either. Well, this was quite the perilous situation. Lie here and die of boredom or get up and do God-knew-what? Well, at least ungodly heat wasn't a problem. Still, another problem had replaced it, an idle mind. At least she'd had Chakotay to babble to on that burning bridge floor. She found her fingers absentmindedly rapping against her pillow, producing no sound to amuse her. If only her first officer was as willing to lie with her on her bed as he was on her bridge...

In his office, he wrestled with his own dilemma, one that had plagued him for far too long despite its pointlessness. Did she know or not? Well, if she did, she would have been seething, wouldn't she? Her lack of response told him that she was still unaware. Why was he blowing this so out of proportion anyway? He'd kissed her on the forehead. So what? She was ill, and it was a kind gesture one often bestowed upon a sick child or an ill friend, not a lover. It wasn't an amorous advance. If anything, he should just let the matter drop, and get back to work. Nothing like Tuvok's security reports to purge the mind of unnecessary worries. And of course, the captain needed her PADD...

Whee...another chapter finished. :) My goal is now to really end it at twenty. (begs her story to stop at twenty) The force that possesses my fingers to type this out is too out of control already.