Chapter 5: Mending Parameters

Voyager: Present day

"Therapy?!"

"I've looked into all of the particulars, and with Lieutenant Torres' aid downloaded certain new subroutines into my progra–."

"You downloaded new subroutines into your programme?" she parroted back, incredulously. "On whose authority?"

"Acting Captain Tuvok," The Doctor scraped his throat, visibly uncomfortable. "It was his suggestion we try a more conventional human approach that would assist you both in regaining control over repressed or unexpressed emotions that might repair and propel your broken friendship forward again."

She blinked.

Two days.

Two days she'd been forced out of her role as captain, and now within the blink of an eye she also found herself forced from the going-ons on her ship. How many more people were involved in this? How had she ever let herself be talked into this insanity? This was embarrassing. She was fine. She felt fine. Fine as long as she didn't fall into the trap of thinking, feeling, talking or coming anywhere near her first officer or memories of New Earth.

Acceptable parameters to follow.

Right?

In truth, she'd hidden away, hoping that given time this would fade too. Everything else in the past had, then why not this? She snorted inwardly, how very brave of her. Holing herself up in her quarters, cowering in corners, licking wounds with impertinent thoughts. She had no problem facing down the Kazon-Nistrim, but, oh no, when it came to matters that hit too close to home she always seemed to be the first to leave the fight, slipping away between unseen cracks of indecision. Taking the low road rather than the more noble high road that provided closure and honesty.

"I'm listening," she said through gritted teeth.

"Seeing as we lack a ship's counsellor on board, suggestions were made to adapt my programme to the specifications containing various methods devised for couple's therapy treatments, ranging from the 19th to the 24th century. I personally found Counsellor Deanna Troi's research on–"

"I beg your pardon?" she interrupted. "Couple's therapy?"

"Oh, don't worry, captain," he waved her words away. "I'm well aware of the current status of your relationship with the commander," he shrugged.

She rubbed her hands together. If only she had half a mind to delete that expression from his subroutines, but that wouldn't be very ethical, now, would it?

"You may not or ever will engage in a psychologically complex or romantic physical relationship, but your deteriorating state of mind suggests that that's where we should start looking for the solution in our therapy sessions. Even a friendship between two people could be defined as a couple's relationship. Treatments for platonic or romantic affairs are initially indistinguishable. I've found an effective officer treatment developed by the renowned counsellor Deanna Troi who serves on the NCC-1701-D under Captain Picard, as you may know. Actually, you might want to read her research yourself, her findings are fascination," he fawned. "Either way, if the treatment doesn't work, we'll have a series of other interesting options available to us which I'm very keen on exploring myself."

Keen? What in the hell.

"Emotions are not a disease, Doctor," she glowered.

"Oh, no," he shook his head vehemently, folding his face into an expression of utmost seriousness. "I'd never suggest it is, uh, they are. I mean, no, captain, of course, we'll treat the matter with the delicacy the situation requires."

The situation.

She really didn't want to do this. Therapy had never worked for her in the past, she really didn't see why this would turn out any differently, but against her better judgement she ultimately heard herself saying:

"I suppose we can give it a shot."

She was running out of options. The longer she stayed in this bubble of self-deprecatory denial, the longer she'd find herself side-lined, turned into a spectator to their journey rather than a vital participant. They needed to get back into the saddle, the both of them. They needed to put this ridiculous situation behind them.

"Excellent!" The Doctor exclaimed. "I'll start making the necessary arrangements."

She had a very bad feeling about this.

=/\=

Voyager: Present day - Holodeck one

The next day she found herself stepping through the heavy airtight holodeck doors into a wide circler room, no sharp corners or edges, oval plants placed on infinity shaped tables and round white ceiling lamps dangling from cords made of holographic hemp and flax. The walls were painted a simple grey and soft green, the hues kindly greeting her eyes, and to her surprise the decorations pleased her senses, put her at ease. Three large white armchairs stood in a circle in the middle of the room, one occupied by a much too excited looking Doctor and the other by an impatient looking Chakotay.

She was late.

Neither looked very impressed with her tardiness when she finally stepped inside, but the moment her eyes locked with Chakotay's his features softened, darting from her face to her hair, down to her outfit. He'd probably expected her to show up in her red and black standard issue Starfleet uniform, the one that coldly emphasized the boundaries between what could have been and what never should be. But she'd abandoned that idea as soon as she stood in front of her wardrobe this morning. The uniform filled her with deep sadness now, made it harder for her to open up, while communicating frankly was the only unexplored venue left for them to explore. So, she'd opted for a loosely fitting military green jumpsuit. Similar to the one she'd worn on New Earth but made of cotton rather than spandex, with buttons in the front and pockets for her hands. Her hair down, but for a braid at the back, keeping stray hairs out of her eyes. Now, arrested by the intensity of his expression, she found it hard to move, rooted to the spot, her insides twisting and turning.

The Doctor scrapped his throat, breaking the tension.

"How nice of you to join us, captain," he said.

"Sorry, I'm late."

The Doctor smiled.

"Not a problem, the commander and I made good use of our time waiting."

Oh, had they now?

"Shall we begin," she said, not a question, moving with intend in the direction of the only available armchair left between the Doctor and the commander. She hadn't seen him in days, felt the ache of it in her bones, and as she sat down, she silently thanked fate they weren't directly facing one another, instead, only half way. That, she could deal with.

"You look nice," he said, the truth of it present in the soft warm tones of his voice.

She felt herself crack a little, fracture, before nodding on a grimace.

This was such a bad idea.

"Thank you, you too," she reciprocated, avoiding his eyes.

It wasn't a lie. He did look nice. Dressed in civvies like her; he wore a simple grey shirt and green linen cargo pants. Ironically, perfectly blending in with the holodeck programme's design.

"Alright then, now that we are all here, we can start our session," the Doctor started prattling enthusiastically. "I've done some extensive research on counsellor Troi's EFT methods, which have yielded very promising results with Starfleet officers in the past. However, before we start I'd first like to establish trust," he joined his two index fingers together in the air. "I'd like to remind you that anything you share with me will be shared in strict confidence, and the franker you are with me, or each other, the smoother this process will go. My role will be that of advisor and intermediator. I'll advice and ask questions which I'll expect you to answer honestly, and if emotions run high I will verbally intercede like any professional in an intermediatory position would do. Do you have any questions before we begin?" Kathryn half expected the Doctor to give himself a little pat on the shoulder after that speech, but he merely looked between them, switching from her to Chakotay and back again, daring them to probe him on the finer details of EFT.

Both remained quiet.

"Very well then," the Doctor continued, looking a little peeved. "If you don't have any questions then I think we should start with Commander Chakotay," he turned to the commander, regarding him with centred interest. "Commander you were the first person to request a leave of absence due to the deterioration of your mental health, would you mind telling us what you think led to this decline in the first place?"

Going straight for the jugular. Fantastic.

"Doctor," Chakotay leaned in slightly. "I'd suggest you refrain from using command titles during these sessions, and you address us by our given names. Kathryn," he motioned to her, "Chakotay," indicating himself and looking at the Doctor as if he was speaking to a two-year-old toddler.

"Ah yes, of course," the Doctor said, pensively jotting down words in a very 20th century looking notebook. The EMH seemed to be enjoying this undertaking far too much. She might have to delete this experience from his memory files if he continued to exhibit such incredibly irksome behaviour. That would be horribly unethical, Kathryn, she mentally berated herself. Coffee. She really would like some coffee right about now.

"Chakotay," the Doctor cleared his throat, the name sounding strange on the hologram's lips. "Could you tell us more about your current state of mind, and what led to the deterioration of your mental wellbeing?" the Doctor repeated.

Chakotay looked to her for a moment, gauging her impenetrable expression for some kind of sign, any clues as to what he could or should reveal, if anything. She refused to meet his eyes. Couldn't. Dreading what she might find in them if she did. The inaction seemed to spur him on.

"I fell in love," he said, turning back to the Doctor.

Kathryn swallowed and spun her head away completely, unable to regard any part of him as renewed dread swam freely through her veins.

The Doctor frowned, not sure what to make of this confession. Apparently, the commander hadn't told him much, and neither had she enlightened the EMH when she'd requested to be relieved from duty. If anything, when the Doctor had finally agreed, she'd only relayed the basics, hoping he would be able to fill in the blanks for himself. She'd told him she'd been having difficulties readjusting to life on Voyager; that the nature of her relationship with the commander had changed. Changed in such a way that it hindered her from performing her duties effectively. In fact, the mere presence of the commander next to her on the bridge or in the briefing room had begun to adversely affect her to the point that she'd now turned her wrath on the crew. She'd admitted that their personal and working relationship had been severely compromised, and that it currently proved impossible to work alongside the man. Thus, she wished to be relieved from duty until such time as the issue was resolved, or the situation diffused. She could only assume what he'd make of that, but by the looks of him he hadn't taken it to mean love. Rather, maybe he'd counted on estrangement, had been prepared for a conversation about hatred and resentment; personalities clashing as their true natures had been revealed to each other on a planet inhabited by just two.

Terrific.

Points to her for vagueness.

"Uh," the Doctor began. "Could you be a little more specific?"

Chakotay snorted. He would set the EMH straight, alright.

"Sure."

She braced herself.

"I fell in love with the woman sitting next to you."

The Doctor stared, twitching his nose before nodding and looking down, feverishly scribbling words in his notebook with a beautifully crafted 21st century fountain pen. Nice touch, she mused.

The EMH looked up and turned his attention on her. Then, nervously cleared his throat before asking:

"Were you aware of the comma–Chakotay's feelings, cap–Kathryn?"

"Yes," she replied, inwardly cringing at the sound of her name.

Much too informal.

"Okay, good," he nodded, emphatically.

"How did you resolve that issue?"

"Issue?" Chakotay sniffed.

"I meant to say," he quickly corrected himself. "How did you both move forward after finding out that your feelings weren't mutual?"

"Who said they weren't mutual?" Chakotay said.

She closed her eyes and lowered her head to her hand. Why? Why did they ever agree to this?

"We had sex," she cut in bluntly.

Both men whirled on her, stunned expressions on their faces.

"Let's just cut the crap, shall we? You want us to be honest, Doctor," she turned to the EMH. "Well, here's the truth. We had sex on New Earth. We had sex many, many, many times."

An amused expression materialized on Chakotay's face as the Doctor, rendered completely speechless, anxiously eyed one then the other. She had to admit, it was somewhat satisfying to watch the hologram squirm like this.

He nervously blinked a couple of times.

"Then ho–"

"As you may know, fraternization among Starfleet officers is frowned upon. All the more so between commanding officers," she felt the weight of the words press down on her under Chakotay's watchful eyes, his expression grim.

"As soon as we learned of Voyager's return, I broke off our physical relationship."

The Doctor nodded understandingly, mentally pulling his subroutines together to prepare for an alternative, completely improvised, line of questioning.

"How did that affect you, Chakotay?" he asked.

"If you must know, Doctor," he said and looked her straight in the eye. "It shattered me."

Her heart painfully contracted, shooting shards across her skin where goose bumps formed. She prayed her reaction didn't show.

"How did you respond to that, Kathryn?" the Doctor continued.

"With indifference."

"How come?"

"I wasn't in love with him," she spoke harshly, firmly, then looked away.

She heard Chakotay's jaw clench and unclench beside her, eyes full of sorrow, her words breaking him all over again, breaking her.

The Doctor frowned.

"Are you?" he dared asked.

"My feelings are irrelevant," she shot back, agitation rising to the front. "Even if I wished for anything beyond the platonic, it is not possible."

"Why not?" Chakotay cut in sharply. "What the hell are you so afraid of, Kathryn?" he said, his eyes observing her as her resolves began to weaken. She didn't want to think about her reasons, she didn't want to admit it, could hardly acknowledge it herself. And damn this room with its soft edges and welcoming aura, clouding her senses. Damn it all to hell.

"This session is over," she declared.

She stood, crossed the room in two large strides, and ignoring the Doctor's protestations, left.

=/\=