Chapter 4. Rapprochement

B'Elanna kept herself angry. Fury kept her in motion while she teetered on the abyss of despair for her friend. Muttering not very quietly to herself, she put the furniture to rights, noting absently its solid wood construction - a Dorvan specialty, and possibly Chakotay's own work, she supposed. She capped the whiskey bottle and put it out of sight - not in its original cupboard, but in a chest full of blankets and cushions by the fireplace. She washed and dried their glasses and returned them carefully to the cupboard.

The house was getting stuffy as the day's sun warmed the roof and walls. She opened windows for a cross-breeze and propped the back door open. The front door, she reasoned, could stay shut; perhaps that would be sufficient to deter visitors.

Finally, she made breakfast, working with what she found in the small kitchen area. Eggs in a basket on the counter; bread wrapped in a dishcloth and left on top of the oven; butter, jam, and fresh berries in the cooling unit. She wasn't much of a cook - Tom would have done this with both confidence and flair - but she managed to grill slices of the bread and produce passable boiled eggs with basic cookware she'd discovered in the cupboard.

Leaving the food on the table, she took a deep breath, marched to the bedroom door, and knocked. No response. "Chakotay," she called through the door. "Come out and eat." Still no response.

She wasn't worried. She was livid. He had invited her here and was neglecting her abysmally. She knocked again, harder. "Last chance before I bust through this door, you p'taQ!" She meant it, and knew he would believe her both willing and capable of making good on that threat.

Sure enough, within seconds she heard his groan as bedsprings squeaked under his weight, and then his heavy booted tread approached the door. He unlatched it, paused a second, and then drew the door open, past his own body which was braced by one forearm on the door frame. He was hunched over as if in pain and swaying slightly, as if opening the door had thrown him off balance.

Without raising his head, he glanced up to meet her gaze, and must have found it implacable. "Sorry," he said, lowering his eyes.

She stepped to one side and gestured him towards the table. "Food," she said. "Get something in your stomach before you fall over."


They didn't say much over breakfast. Afterward, Chakotay insisted B'Elanna sit while he cleaned up from the meal, and then excused himself to bathe and dress.

She used the time, and Chakotay's slow and dusty net terminal, to check for messages from home. She was still fuming as she read but did not reply to the ones from work; starting tomorrow she'd have time on the transport to deal with everything her staff hadn't been able to handle without her. The note from Miral, B'Elanna read and then re-read, smiling. That's my girl, killing it at the Academy, just like I knew you would.

Her brightened mood turned brittle, though, upon finding a message from Tom; the first he'd sent since she left two weeks ago. She read the noncommittal subject line - " Hey" - and hesitated, drumming her fingers against her leg. Tilting an ear towards the bedroom, she heard the shower running. She'd have at least a few minutes to digest whatever her estranged husband had said before she'd have to deal with Chakotay and his problems again. She clicked the message open, and read.

Haven't heard from you en route but I know how spotty those transport netlinks can be. Hoping you'll get this on Dorvan. If so, tell Chakotay I'm thinking of him.

I didn't want to do this in writing, but you wouldn't talk to me the last time I tried.

The station's annual housing reallocation process will start two days before you get back, and we'll have the best pick of available units if we put our names in before then. So, it's time to make a decision.

Are we going to live together or separately for the next year? Your choice, but if you choose to stay, you have to tell me what's going to change. I don't want to separate, but I can't go on the way we have been.

-Tom

Heart in her throat, hot tears searing her eyes, she switched off the terminal. Two decades and seventy-thousand light-years, she thought, and it comes down to a station housing contract.


B'Elanna was standing at the back window, staring out at the land, lost in dark thoughts. Chakotay's voice brought her back from far away. She turned and was startled to find him right in front of her; she hadn't heard him approach.

He'd shaved off his beard, and his whole appearance was transformed. Her thoughts immediately leapt far back in time as he ran a hand over his newly bare chin. In the early years on Voyager the crew had found a hot springs resort during a shore leave. Chakotay had emerged glowing, more relaxed than she'd ever seen him before. Her palm grew warm as she imagined how his smooth skin would feel under her fingers.

Glancing at the terminal, he asked, "Did you figure it out?"

She blinked, snapped out of it. "What?" Her voice sounded husky to her ears. First she thought he'd read her disturbingly sensual thoughts, and then she panicked thinking he knew about Tom's message somehow. Get a grip, she told herself.

"The network here. It doesn't always work. Were you able to access your messages?"

"Oh." She drew herself together. "Yes, I was. Thanks." Then she waved her hand as if to swat away a bothersome insect and changed the subject. "Nice job with the razor. You look better."

"Yeah?" His smile, though brief, gave his face life. Her friend was back.