AN: Here we are, another chapter here. I'm really hoping for at least one more this weekend.

I wrote one earlier, so please make sure you didn't miss it. There was one yesterday, too, if you missed that one.

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"Gotta be like a world record," Daryl mused. He sat beside Carol, on the ground. Both of them had found a tree that was large enough for them to be able to share it as a backrest without having to fully turn away from one another. They had chosen the spot because it was shady and offered them relief from the sun. It was nice to see the sun again, but they'd been down on the planet for so long that it was growing overwhelming.

Hours were passing. If the planet was anything like Earth—which it strongly resembled—the night would be coming in four hours or less. The sun was already beginning to set.

Carol and Daryl were naturally cautious of the dark. Years spent living in what they now could call a world that was racked by the Millennium Plague had taught them that darkness hid the things they needed to see. And Walkers, it seemed, were always busier at night—perhaps because they could see light more distinctly as it contrasted with the darkness.

There were no Walkers here, and there was no clear reason to fear the night. Still, the approach of nightfall made Carol feel uneasy. It made her want to rush Kathryn and Chakotay into finding a resolution for their problem.

The two officers had moved off some distance in search of privacy, though they hadn't come out and said that's what they were doing. Carol and Daryl had recognized what they were doing, though, and they'd stepped away. They'd given them space to do what they needed to do.

Carol had caught snatches of the conversation, and she knew that nothing was solved as of yet.

It had, more than likely, been an insect that had bitten them. The toxin wasn't present in the air, water, or soil samples. That much they knew. The toxin seemed to have deposited something into their bloodstream that had spread quickly. It had created some sort of virus. They were infected. The atmosphere around them protected them from suffering any harmful effects of the virus—at least as far as they could tell at the moment—but as soon as they were removed from the atmosphere, the virus would likely kill them almost immediate, as it had done with the young ensign who had collapsed the moment she'd materialized on the transporter pad.

It was a virus. A brutal, fatal virus.

"Have a clean, fresh, perfect fuckin' body," Daryl mused. "And fuck that shit up overnight, practically." He laughed to himself. He lit a cigarette from his pocket. "That's gotta be like a record."

"I don't think there can be a record if we're the only two people who have ever been in our situation," Carol offered.

"She's gonna have a nervous breakdown," Daryl offered, gesturing off to where Kathryn and Chakotay were standing.

"I think she's pretty composed," Carol said with a laugh. Chakotay had put his hand on Kathryn's shoulder, and he'd kept it there often, but she hadn't requested it. Her eyes had been damp, but she'd never let an actual tear fall. She was, in Carol's opinion, the definition of control and composure. She was doing what she could to handle something that was out of all their control. "She can't do anything about this. She didn't cause the virus."

"And that's why the hell she's gonna have a breakdown," Daryl said. "It's all too damn heavy. Too damn much. They trained her to take responsibility for shit she can't control. She's holdin' it together, but sooner or later the shoe's gotta fall."

"I think she's going to be fine," Carol said. "And if she's not—we know how to handle when the shoe falls. We've all had a little practice in that moment when…when we have to put it down. So, we'll just help her pick it back up again and we won't say anything else about it. She's still the captain."

"My point is somebody oughta tell her that she can put it down," Daryl said. "Share it around. Somethin'. Shit just is what it is. We didn't do no more, here, to get bug bit by one of these little blood-sucking assholes than we did to get the plague before."

Carol hummed at him, but she dropped the line of thought. She had no doubt that Kathryn had to put everything down eventually—somewhere and somehow. She had to set down command once in a while to simply sit and be a human being, out from under the pressure to handle everything.

Carol also had no doubt at all that, given half the chance, Chakotay would gladly carry anything that Kathryn allowed him to help her carry. He would, Carol felt, be more than pleased to help her relieve any stress she might be feeling, too.

But Kathryn didn't seem to notice that or, more than likely, she actively ignored it because she had other, more pressing things to worry about.

"It's going to get dark," Carol offered.

Daryl hummed.

"Three hours?" He asked.

"Four," Carol said. "Maybe three. I've been watching how fast the sun moves. Without a watch—I don't know how time's really passing. I don't think we're going back to the ship before then."

"We might not ever be goin' back," Daryl offered.

"It's a clear night," Carol said. "That undergrowth is pretty comfortable. And the trees offer enough coverage if it turns out not to stay clear all night. It's not ideal, but I think we could sleep there. Take turns keeping watch."

Daryl laughed to himself.

"For Walkers?" He asked.

"For whatever's out here," Carol said. He offered her a pack of cigarettes.

"You want one?" He asked.

"No," she said. "I'm taking care of my new body."

Daryl laughed.

"What the hell for?" He asked. "Didn't you hear? Got a fatal virus. Gonna kill us all. All the hell I can say is—if we're all dyin', is this how the hell we gonna go? Just sittin' around starin' at each other?"

"You had other ways you wanted to go?" Carol asked, smirking at him.

"I could think up some decent ways to spend my last couple of hours or whatever, yeah," Daryl said. Carol smiled at him. She reached a hand over and rested it on his leg. He covered her hand with his own and squeezed it.

"I'm not used to this side of you," she teased.

"You want me to—shut up or change or somethin'?" Daryl asked.

Carol laughed to herself. She got the feeling that, even though he was happy exploring a side of himself that, maybe, he'd never explored before, he would gladly suppress it for her if that's what she wanted.

"No," she said. "I like it. It's new, but…I like it."

111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

Chakotay could see the strain on Kathryn's features. The death of Ensign Reynolds hadn't had time to sink in for either of them. It was there. It was something they knew—mostly because the tests that were being run right now were, without a doubt, only possible because of the ensign's presence on the ship.

It would sink in for them later. They would each mourn her in their own way. Still, Chakotay knew that the sad fact of the matter was that mourning would not last long. They had both learned—as the world had taught them—that death was a part of life and mourning was something that had to be done as they kept moving. Besides that, and no matter how harsh it sounded, the young ensign would not leave a large personal hole in either of their lives.

Professional mourning was quite different than personal mourning, no matter how callous it would sound to speak that truth out loud.

The ensign was gone and there was no bringing her back. Chakotay had no doubt that Kathryn would beat herself up a thousand different ways over how she might have avoided the young woman's death, but right now her focus had to be given to other issues. She had to think about what she was going to do save other lives—to avoid that fate for others—and she had to think about what she was going to do for the good of the ship and crew.

The virus, it appeared, was not being spread in the air. The air in the containment field where they were running tests remained clean, even though they left it open to exposure. The virus had to be spread by some kind of direct contact. The bite they'd found was probably from an insect that had transmitted the disease. As soon as the bite was described to them, they'd all found the bites on their skin—almost microscopic. They hadn't even paid attention to the minor discomfort the bite had provided, and now it would kill them if they left the protective atmosphere of the planet.

There was nothing Chakotay could do except stay close to Kathryn and offer her support, and his opinion, when she seemed to need either one.

"The stasis chambers would allow me to monitor you more closely. It could also allow us to test certain possible medications and gauge your reaction while in a relatively controlled medical environment," the doctor explained. "Furthermore, it would keep the virus from worsening while we're searching for a cure."

Kathryn sighed.

"Keep working, Doctor," Kathryn commanded. "I'll contact you soon with my decision. Janeway out."

Chakotay wished he had some power to wipe the exhaustion off her features. He knew it was a type of exhaustion that was far worse than any she could cure by sleeping.

"We won't have to worry about resources or exacerbating the situation," Chakotay said. "And it's the only way to give the doctor access to our bodies without risking leaving the atmosphere. Voyager will stay in orbit while he works, and he'll wake us when he's got a solution."

"And if he doesn't find a solution?" Kathryn asked.

Chakotay nodded his understanding of her concern. He reached a hand out, touched her shoulder, and squeezed. She had refused none of his affection today. She'd shied away from none of it. It only demonstrated to him how very overwhelmed she was feeling. She needed what he could offer her.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Chakotay said. "For right now, we have to give him the chance to find a solution. We have to give him the ability to run some tests."

"What about Daryl and Carol?" Kathryn asked.

"As long as they're in stasis, they'll be safe," Chakotay said. "And, hopefully, when we wake up, there will be good news for all of us. We'll get on with our lives, and they'll get on with theirs."

"They never asked to be dragged into any of this," Kathryn said.

"Neither did we," Chakotay said. "Not exactly. Still, they're resilient. They're survivors of the Millennium Plague. I'm sure they're not afraid of a little virus." He laughed to himself and gestured toward the place where he could see the couple sitting on the ground under a tree. "They don't look too worried."

The truth was, they didn't look worried at all. They looked pretty relaxed. They were holding hands, and they were sitting close enough that they were touching. Even as they watched them for a few seconds, they caught the two exchanging a clearly meaningful kiss.

Chakotay's stomach clenched in something like jealousy at the sight. But he was happy for them.

He thought everyone deserved happiness—even if not all of them were allowed it.

"They're happy," Kathryn said. A smile spread across her lips at the sight of the two people exchanging a kiss under the tree. For just a second, she didn't look as concerned. But then the weight of reality dropped back down around her. "They found happiness just for us to snatch it away from them."

Chakotay squeezed her shoulder again and dared to draw her near him. She came, and he closed his eyes. He wished he could offer her more than a hug of comfort. He wished he could kiss her the same way that Daryl and Carol were kissing each other as they passed the time.

He wished they didn't carry the weight of command and duty—and the weight of figuring out how to handle what they all faced. He wished it could all be as simple as sharing kisses and holding hands under the shade of a tree—even if only for a moment.

"We're not snatching it away," Chakotay said. "We're figuring out how to let them keep it."

Kathryn nodded her head. Without pulling away from him or putting any distance between them, she tapped her combadge.

"Beam down the stasis chambers, Doctor," Kathryn said. She looked at Chakotay. "Let's go and—tell them what we've decided."

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111

The hypospray and cartridges that had been beamed down weren't necessary, but they were certainly going to prove to be helpful. For as annoying as the doctor may have found Daryl, though, Chakotay didn't blame the man at all for his reactions. He didn't even find him annoying.

On a level he'd never admit out loud, he understood the man, and he respected him.

Chakotay had feared he might have a stroke, though, or some other equally terrible reaction when they closed the lid on Carol's stasis pod.

Chakotay's chest had ached for the man's uncertainty. And he respected the strength that he showed in facing that uncertainty. He had heard stories, his whole life, of his people and the way that they'd been treated as ignorant for their lack of understanding of technology that was different—not better, simply different—than their own knowledge and practices. In Daryl and Carol, he was able to see that struggle, and to understand as it happened. Perhaps that was one reason that he didn't get annoyed at the man.

The other reason was that, even if he didn't dare to say it, he knew what it was to love someone enough that your own life seemed relatively worthless in comparison to theirs.

"She's asleep," Kathryn said softly, her hand on Daryl's shoulder as he pressed his hands to the lid of the stasis pod.

"You're sure she's—she's still breathin'?" He asked.

"She's breathing," Chakotay assured him. "Her vital signs—see that read out? Her vital signs are normal. It's a dreamless sleep. Completely peaceful."

"Restorative, really," Kathryn offered.

"What if her air runs out?" Daryl asked.

"She won't suffocate," Chakotay assured him. "She's being monitored, at all times, on Voyager. We all will be. If our pods start to fail, the atmosphere here poses no danger. They'll simply open our pods and we'll wake up."

"Who goes last?" Daryl asked.

"I'll go last," Kathryn assured him. "I'm the captain. I'll see that everyone's pod is secure and then—I'll tell the doctor to seal mine."

"What if somethin' goes wrong with yours?" Daryl asked.

Chakotay's stomach clenched at the suggestion. He didn't doubt the stasis pods at all, but Daryl's concern was palpable and nearly contagious.

"It won't," Kathryn assured him. "But if it does? B'Elanna will handle it. And I trust B'Elanna to handle it. Come on. We need to get you in your pod."

Daryl nodded. He lingered a moment longer with his hand on Carol's pod, and then he allowed them to lead him to his. Chakotay administered the hypospray. It would simply calm him. It would make him want to sleep, just as it had done for Carol. She was claustrophobic and the very idea of the pod had sent her nearly into hysterics. The hypospray had calmed her. It calmed Daryl, too, and it took them very little time to get his pod sealed.

Kathryn followed Chakotay to his own pod. She took the hypospray from him and waved it.

"Something to help you sleep?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said. "Captain—I could wait. I could go last. Help you seal your pod."

She winked at him. How he appreciated just that simple gesture and the smile on her face. He eased himself into the pod, pleased that he could take such an image with him as he faded off into the sleep that would follow.

"It's time for bed, Commander," she said. "Stop stalling."

"Yes ma'am," he said with a laugh. "I'll see you soon. Goodnight, Captain."

She smiled at him. She leaned over him. He knew, in a moment, he would close his eyes. That smile would be the last thing he saw until they woke him from stasis. That could be an hour from now or years from now.

"Sweet dreams, Commander," Kathryn said.

Chakotay accepted that as the last thing he needed. He closed his eyes. He heard the hiss of the chamber closing. He heard it seal. He held the image of her face just in front of his eyes as the darkness of peaceful, dreamless sleep swept over him.