A/N: I meant to have this chapter up earlier, but it's been one hell of a week. Sorry to keep you all in suspence!

Chapter 12

Seconds tick by slowly as if the world has frozen along with me. I eventually realise two things.

First, I refuse to die like this, like a frightened mouse. If I have to die, I'll go down fighting. I'm a Starfleet officer.

Second, Chakotay doesn't want to kill me. He's looking at me with more hatred than I've ever seen on anyone's face, but he hasn't even touched me. He could have easily shoved me off the cliff while I stood there frozen. But he hasn't. His hands are clenched at his sides into fists so tight his knuckles are white. But they don't move. He has the means and the motive, but he's not a murderer. He's a good man. I've known it instinctively from the moment I first heard his voice, but I didn't want to trust my gut. I have to trust it - and him - now. And if a good man like him hates Starfleet so much, there must be a good reason.

I've heard rumours. Not from the Fednews or Starfleet, but from my father. Rumours of terrible things happening to the former Federation colonies in the Demilitarized Zone. Of Cardassian atrocities. Having been a prisoner of the Cardassians, the rumours aren't as difficult to believe as they were a few months ago. And Chakotay, his vow to protect me. I've thought it before, but what if…

My heart aches for him. Without conscious thought, I reach for him, placing my hand on his arm. 'I'm so sorry, Chakotay.'

He recoils from my words and my touch. Not with revulsion; he cringes like a dog that's been kicked. Like someone who is expecting pain, not sympathy, and I know my guess is correct. He lost someone he loved to the Cardassians, while the Federation and Starfleet stood by and did nothing. He's still hurting, still reeling from it. It makes him lash out, suspicious, like a dog baring it's teeth to warn you away. But I know dogs, and I know him. He won't hurt me.

'Chakotay, please look at me,' I say softly, soothingly. I'm careful to keep my hand exactly where it is, hovering over his arm. Not touching, but not backing away either. 'Please look at me, Chakotay. I understand and I'm sorry.' I keep talking and inching closer. Not touching him, but slowly and carefully invading his space. He's closed his eyes and he's shaking like a leaf, probably fighting emotions that he's suppressed for god knows how long. When he finally opens his eyes and looks at me, not a trace of hate remains. Instead there's so much grief in them that my heart constricts and my breath hitches. 'Oh Chakotay,' I whisper, overcome with sympathy.

That's when he breaks, there's no other word for it. Before I know it, his arms close around me and he clasps me to him almost painfully, burying his face in my hair. His whole body shakes, but this time not with tension but with tears. Has he ever cried for whomever he lost? Or is this the first time? My voice has died away at the sound of his tears, but I hold him as tight as I can. Much of his weight is leaning on me and before long he becomes too heavy for me to hold up. If we don't move, he might actually push me off the cliff without meaning to.

I gently ease away and he lets me lead him off the edge. I guide him to one of the trees I admired earlier and help him sit down underneath. Then I carefully ease down next to him. He's no longer holding me to him, but he's clutching my hand as if it's a lifeline. I squeeze his hand and pull him towards me until his head is resting on my shoulder. For once in this strange situation, I don't think. No role to play, no secrets to keep. I just feel. His large frame shuddering in my arms. The softness of his hair as my hand cards through it soothingly. The steady beating of his heart against my chest. I share his grief.

His breathing slowly steadies and he withdraws. I'm reluctant to let him go, so I close my eyes to hold on to the feeling. How can comforting him feel so safe?

Suddenly I feel his thumb on my cheek, wiping away tears I wasn't aware I'd let fall. My eyes snap open and I freeze again, caught in his gaze. He's looking at me as if he hasn't seen me before. I guess he hasn't, not the real me. The thought is somehow painful. I feel like I know him.

He keeps staring at me. There's a power in his gaze, an intensity I haven't seen before. It's mesmerizing. He's still holding my chin, his thumb grazing my cheek so gently I'm not sure it's really there.

'Thank you, Katie,' he finally says, his voice soft and husky from crying.

'Kathryn,' I say, 'my name is Kathryn.'

He smiles, not so much with his lips, but with his eyes. I've never seen such kind eyes. 'Nice to meet you Kathryn.'

I smile.

Later, as we sit there on the edge, he tells me about his family. About his father, proud and quick to smile, with an almost endless store of ancient legends. His mother, kind and wise. A younger sister, always getting into mischief. A whole family, described in loving detail. He doesn't have to tell me that they're all dead, I know.

I tell him about my family too. My father and mother and sister. I don't tell him that the Captain isn't my father but my senior officer; he knows.

I fall silent.

'I'll help you get back to them, Kathryn.' It sounds like a vow and, looking in his eyes, I know it is.