And they did climb the stairs right after lunch – all sixteen of them. Kathryn stood close behind him as he took each step, her body pressed against his back, giving him added support as he gripped the railing and pulled his left leg up, setting his foot on the next stair.

"When I suggested climbing the stairs after lunch, I was speaking figuratively," Chakotay mumbled over his shoulder, his voice low in deference to Gretchen who was down the hall clearing up after their meal.

"Yes, I know," Kathryn hummed back, her chin propped against his shoulder blade, her hands resting lightly on his hips. "But I assured Scott, Sam, and the Doctor that we'd continue with your therapy, and, as you informed my mother, stair climbing is a good workout."

"And when we get to the top?" he questioned, taking another step.

"You get to see my trophies," Kathryn breathed in his ear.

And Chakotay laughed out loud and held firmly to the railing, almost losing his balance. Her double entendres were getting almost as good as his.

"Well, this must not be too strenuous. It sounds like you're having a good time." Gretchen appeared at the foot of the stairs.

"It's either laugh or cry," Chakotay called over his shoulder. "Your daughter's a real taskmaster."

Gretchen shook her head. "Oh, I know that. I'd tell her to go easy on you, but, after seven years in the Delta Quadrant, I have a feeling you can take whatever she dishes out."

"Why are you assuming that I'm giving him a hard time?" Kathryn enquired, nudging his back and pushing him up another step.

"Because I know you," her mother answered, reaching for her coat that hung on the rack by the door. "Now, I'm on my way to the farmer's market to get some things for dinner tonight. I'll probably be gone a couple of hours. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"We'll be fine, Mom," Kathryn assured her.

"There are some more cookies in the kitchen, and I'm making chocolate caramel brownies for supper tonight. Phoebe will be here after work with the kids, but I should be back before then."

"All right."

"I've got my cell-com if you need to call."

"Mom," Kathryn stared back over her shoulder, "like you said - we both made it home from the Delta Quadrant. We'll be fine."

"I'm just trying to be a good hostess," Gretchen smiled up at her as she took her purse off the entry hall table and opened the front door.

Kathryn sighed softly. "You're the best. We'll see you later."

And Gretchen left, the door closing softly behind her.

Kathryn returned her attention to the task at hand. "Keep going." She nudged him again.

He moved his hand higher on the railing, tightened his hold and took another step. Kathryn moved up with him.

"You really going to catch me if I fall?"

"That's the plan."

Another push against his back. Another step.

The next few minutes were quiet as he continued up the stairs; the only sound was his breathing as it increased with every step, growing deeper, but not labored. He felt her hand move up his back, rubbing gently over his shoulders, silent encouragement and support.

He took another step and another – the summit now in sight. Finally, he planted his cane on the second floor landing and stood, somewhat proudly, at the top. He drew in a deep breath, let it out slowly, looked back down the staircase.

"Bit of a mountain, isn't it?" Kathryn observed.

"Just a bit," he agreed, taking another deep breath, then looking around the upstairs hall. "So, which room is yours?"

Kathryn glanced past the railing, toward the front of the house. "Second door on the left."

"The holy grail," Chakotay grinned slyly at her and headed toward it.

"Probably a holy mess," she shot back, following him. "Mom wasn't kidding when she said she hasn't changed a thing in that room!"

Chakotay reached the door and pushed it open, peered inside. The room was indeed filled with tennis trophies and books; they lined the shelves and the tops of the desk and dresser. An antique brass bed, covered in a patchwork quilt, stood in the middle of the room. There was a wicker rocker in one corner and a low window seat along one wall. Chakotay stepped inside, turned around slowly, taking it in – his mind imagining a teen-aged Kathryn spending her days in this room – reading, studying, making plans – dreaming.

"I'll bet you sat in that window seat and read," he smiled back over his shoulder to where she leaned in the doorway.

"All the time – reading, gazing at the moon." She crossed the room and stopped at the window, drew back the curtain. "At night, I'd turn off all the lights and just sit and watch the stars, pretending I was up there."

Chakotay moved closer to her, placed a hand on her shoulder. "I guess you never imagined just how many of those stars you'd actually visit."

"Well, I can assure you, I never imagined being stranded in the Delta Quadrant!"

He gave her a soft smile, reached up and touched her face with the back of his hand. "What did you imagine?"

She returned his smile, nuzzled against him, his hand turning and cupping her cheek in his palm. "Having my own ship… discovering new places and people… exploring."

"Sounds like the Delta Quadrant gave you all that," he breathed, his thumb rubbing gently against soft skin.

"And more," Kathryn agreed, touching her fingers to his forehead, tracing over the lines of his tattoo. Then her face settled into a firm expression. "Now out of those pants and onto the floor."

Chakotay gave a snort of laughter and stepped back, his hand falling away from her face even as she drew her fingers away from his. "Kathryn!" He feigned mock indignation.

"Therapy, Chakotay," she qualified, stepping over to the bed and taking an old blanket that hung over the footboard; she spread it across the braided rug on the floor. "At least three sets of leg crunches and some range of motion exercises; I promised Scott."

Chakotay sighed and leaned against the bed, tugged at the button on his jeans. "Taskmaster," he accused, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Sticks and stones," she laughed, covering his hands with hers and unfastening his jeans, helping him push them down over his hips and thighs, knees and calves. Then she knelt and removed his shoes so he could step out of the pants and she could undo his brace, set it to one side.

She held his arm as he stepped over to the blanket and lowered himself onto the floor. He settled, flat on his back, staring up at her. And she smiled at the image: striped shirt, plaid boxers, slightly irritated look on his face.

She knelt in front of him, lifted his leg, holding the heel of his foot against her palm. She pushed it into a 45 degree angle, then further toward his body, then straightened it. "Work on the resistance," she instructed, pushing his leg forward again.

Chakotay pressed back slightly, felt the tightening of his muscles down his left leg, a twinge of discomfort, but he was careful to keep his expression neutral – no need to worry Kathryn. Therapy wasn't supposed to be easy.

She pushed again; he resisted. They worked in silent tandem – ten reps, then she lowered his leg, let him rest a few minutes, drawing in deep breaths, letting them out slowly. She massaged his lower leg, then moved her hands higher onto his thigh.

He moaned low in his throat. "Umm, feels good."

Kathryn smiled. "Don't enjoy it too much. You have twenty more to go." And she raised his leg, began again.

Another set, a few minutes of rest, and then a final set. By the last rep, his forehead was covered in perspiration and his breathing had increased. Kathryn took her time kneading the muscles in his leg, her fingers smoothing over his skin. She switched to the right leg, giving it some attention as well, massaging deeply. She heard him sigh, and looked up to see that his eyes were closed.

"Hey, no sleeping on the job."

And he opened his eyes. "Who's working?"

She smiled. "Well, we both were for a while."

He reached up and grabbed hold of her hand, pulled her down onto the floor next to him. "If work's over, can we play now?" He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathed her in.

She giggled, pushed at him gently. "Chakotay…"

He kissed her cheek, then her lips. She returned the pressure, rolling half on top of him, her legs tangling with his. Then she pulled back slightly, and he gazed up at her, his fingers threading through her hair, pushing it back from her face.

She shook her head. "We're on the floor of my bedroom, Chakotay." And she braced a hand against his chest.

"My third favorite fantasy," he breathed, his fingers soft on her cheek.

"Third?"

He nodded.

And she sighed. "Don't tell me…"

"Ready room, then bridge."

She pressed her face into his chest. "Oh, Chakotay."

He heard her mumble his name, could feel her smile. He rubbed his hands down over her back, smoothing along her hips, cupping her buttocks, pulling her against him. He rolled over, taking her with him, braced himself on his elbows. He gazed down into her eyes. "I love you," he whispered, and then kissed her again.

~vVv~