notes: look who actually got an update out! Yay me!

Part XII: Finisque Initium

Neelix bounced on his toes outside of the captain's door, a covered bowl in his left hand and a plate of warm bread in the other. He glanced up and down the hall, then back again at the door—and with a steadying breath, he stepped forward and, with his elbow, rang the chime.

The door opened a few seconds later. It was not, however, the captain who answered. Rather it was Kes's gently smiling face that appeared. When she saw that it was Neelix, though, her smile blossomed into a wide grin. But she did not open the door any further.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Her voice was pitched curiously low.

"I heard that the captain has a cold," Neelix said, with as bright a smile as he could force past his lips. "I thought I'd bring her some soup and bread."

Kes glanced over her shoulder, then looked back to Neelix. Her smile seemed somehow dimmer, though no less wide. "Thank you, Neelix," she said, and opened the door just wide enough that she could accept the bowl and plate from his hands.

"Is the captain alright?" Neelix asked, stepping forward and halting Kes before she could close the door on him.

"She's fine," Kes said. "I'll come by the mess hall later and get some dinner. We can talk more then. Okay?"

Neelix nodded. "That sounds wonderful, dear heart," he said. "I look forward to seeing you then." He leaned in for a kiss, and felt Kes sigh against his lips.

Then the door was shut, and Neelix was standing alone in the hall.

Neelix turned to make his way back to the kitchen, thoughts as heavy as his feet. He doubted that anyone else would have picked up on the tension and distance in Kes's voice—but he was hardly anyone. He knew her better than he knew his own ship. She was hiding something, or was afraid of something. Or maybe it was both.

He hoped, as he stepped into the turbolift, that Harry and Tom and B'Elanna would still be sitting at their table when he arrived. They could use this new information.

They were still sitting huddled together, heads bent close and shoulders hunched to keep out any prying noses, when Neelix walked into the mess hall five minutes later. They were right where he had left them.

They looked up in surprise at being interrupted by Neelix clearing his throat, but then Tom and Harry relaxed upon seeing him, and even before Neelix could ask to join them, they scooted their chairs back, and Harry motioned for him to pull up a seat.

"What's up?" Tom asked, as Neelix sat in his newly claimed chair.

"I just got back from trying to see the captain," Neelix told them. He looked around at their faces, grim and streaked with worry, and saw in them the fear beating in his own chest.

"Well?" B'Elanna prodded. "Did you see her?"

Neelix shook his head. "No. But I did see Kes. She stopped me from coming in, and took the food I brought. She said she'd come by later, though, and said that we'd talk."

Tom wrinkled his nose. "Do you think she'll tell you what's going on?"

"I don't know," Neelix admitted. "If it's something that both The Doctor and the commander want to keep secret, I don't know that Kes would tell even me."

"You really think The Doctor is in on Chakotay's charade?" Harry asked, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table to either side of his long-gone-cold noodles.

"If he is," Tom put in, "then it's probably really serious."

Harry shook his head. "I just don't understand why they'd keep something so serious from us."

"They wouldn't want the crew to worry," Neelix offered.

"Or would want anyone to do anything stupid," Tom added softly.

B'Elanna frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's just…" Tom trailed off with a shrug. "I don't know about you, but if someone did something to our captain, I know I'd want them to answer for it. And—"

"And what?" B'Elanna cut in. "What are you saying, Tom?"

"What if it's something to do with the Kaminoans?" Tom said. "I was there, remember. I saw her…" He trailed off again, a very far-away look stealing into the cloud blue of his eyes.

"Tom?" Harry asked, reaching tentatively out to rest a hand on his friend's forearm. "You okay?"

Tom shook himself. "I'm fine," he said, gruff and suddenly surly.

"You never did tell us what you actually saw in there," B'Elanna said. She raised her eyebrows in question, silently urging Tom to speak.

But Tom simply shook his head. "It's not important," he said. "The Doctor said she was fine."

"But you think she might not be?" Harry said.

"I didn't say that," Tom snapped. "I just think that, if it was something to do with, well, all of that, I'd be cautious to tell the crew about it too. Especially since we're barely keeping atmosphere right now."

"Hey now," B'Elanna said, clearly incensed, "Voyager is doing much better than 'just keeping atmosphere'."

Tom grinned. "I know," he said. "But it's fun to watch you jump to her defense."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Jerk," she muttered.

Neelix, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward. "Regardless of the why," he said, "the fact is that they're hiding something from us."

"We think they are," Harry said.

Neelix grinned, and conceded, "We think they are, yes. But what are we going to do about it?"

Everyone looked at each other for a long second, silent and pondering. Then, carefully, Harry said, "What about Tuvok?"

"What do you mean?" Neelix asked.

"Well," Harry said slowly, "he might know what's going on. And if he doesn't, then he can probably find out."

"That doesn't mean he'll tell us, though," Tom said. "In fact, regardless of whether he knows or not, he probably won't talk to us about it."

"No," Harry said. "You're right. What else can we do, though? Unless we're going to break into the captain's quarters." B'Elanna and Tom both brightened. Harry, seeing their sudden grins, shook his head. "No," he said very firmly. "No, we're not going to break into her quarters."

"Fine," Tom said, slumping back in his chair. "But we do need to do something."

"I think," B'Elanna said, sitting straight and leaning forward slightly, "we need more power."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean," she said, clasping her hands on her lap, "right now it's just the three—sorry, four—of us. That's just four voices against Chakotay's. But while you can ignore four, you can't ignore forty. Or fifty. If we get enough people asking about it, he's going to have to do something."

"But what if they're keeping it—whatever it is—a secret for a reason?" Harry asked.

B'Elanna pulled a face. "If that's what we believe," she said, "then why are we even having this conversation in the first place."

Silence. Then Tom said, "Okay. You have a point."

"So what do we do?" Neelix asked.

"I still think we should talk to Tuvok," Harry said.

"And we should talk to others in the crew," Tom said. He looked at Neelix. "You can probably do that better than any of us."

"Aren't you and Harry gossip central?" Neelix asked, fighting a grin.

Tom shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said with an innocent shrug.

"Who's going to talk to Tuvok, though?" Harry put in, before Tom could say anything else.

"You should, Starfleet," B'Elanna said.

Harry looked scandalized, touched with trepidation. "Me?" he asked.

"Yeah, Starfleet," Tom said, reaching out to punch him in the shoulder. "It was your idea after all."

Harry looked from B'Elanna to Tom, then at Neelix. Then he sagged back into his chair. "Fine," he said. "I'll go talk to Tuvok."

"And we'll start talking to others," Tom said. He looked at B'Elanna. "I'm sure there are people on the holodeck right now."

B'Elanna nodded. "Right. And Neelix—tell us what Kes says."

Neelix nodded as well. "I will," he promised.

They parted ways with a few quiet words of good luck, Tom and B'Elanna toward the holodeck, Harry to go find Tuvok, and Neelix to clean up the kitchen from the dinner mess.

He was only halfway done with the dishes when Kes arrived. She kissed Neelix on the cheek, then perched on a counter while Neelix fixed her a plate of food. She accepted it gratefully, and dug into the mashed tubers sprinkled with cheese as soon as Neelix had handed her a spoon.

"A little hungry tonight, sweetling?" Neelix asked, trying to hide a grain.

Kes looked sheepish, and between bites confessed, "I haven't eaten since last night."

Neelix's eyebrows rose. "Kes," he admonished, half surprise and half worry, "why not?"

"With everything going on with the captain—" She cut herself off abruptly, and wouldn't meet Neelix's eyes, even when he stepped toward her. Instead she looked at the mashed tubers, and the off-putting scarlet meat beside it.

"What is going on with the captain?" Neelix asked. "Kes?"

"The commander asked us not to discuss it with the rest of the crew," Kes said quietly.

Neelix fought to keep his expression neutral. So, they had been right about that much, then: it was under Chakotay's orders that whatever was happening was being kept secret. And something was definitely happening; Kes had just as much as confirmed that.

Pushing aside his tumbling thoughts, he said, "Can't you tell me, at least? I am the Morale Officer, after all. I would swear not to tell anyone else."

Kes shook her head. "I'm sorry, Neelix," she said.

Neelix sighed and turned back to his dishes. "No matter," he said, picking up a plate and beginning to scrub it furiously. "Tell me about that book you said you were reading—what was it again?"

Kes relaxed visibly, and once again began to eat. "Theorems of Molecular Decay," she told him. "And it's absolutely fascinating."

~*x*~

Chakotay was ready to fall into bed for a few hours of sleep when the chime rang at his door. He allowed himself a groan, and then trudged out of his bedroom.

"What?" he asked crossly as the door slid open at his furious jab, too tired to care about manners or façades.

Tuvok, standing on the other side of the door, did not flinch. "I believe you and I need to speak," he said with perfect calm, his face a carving of serenity. He was dressed in his uniform, straight and unrumpled as if he had only just donned it, and he stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Can't this wait until tomorrow?" Chakotay asked, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to glare. He was certain he knew what this conversation was going to be about, and he was willing to give anything to postpone it even a few more hours.

"I think not, Commander," Tuvok said, still in the mild tone of voice that at times made Chakotay grind his teeth.

"And if I order you to leave me alone so I can go to bed?"

"Then I will suffer the consequences of disobeying a direct order," Tuvok replied.

Chakotay sighed. "Fine," he said, and stepped back to give Tuvok room to walk past him. "Come in, then."

Tuvok slid past him, and crossed to the couch without a word. He settled onto the sofa, arranging his hands neatly on his lap, and then waited for Chakotay to join him. He did so with an unkind thought about Vulcans, slumping into the armchair he pulled over to face Tuvok.

"Well?" Chakotay asked, after Tuvok had simply stared at him in silence for the better part of a minute. "What did you come here to say?"

"What is wrong with the captain?" Tuvok asked. His words, blunt and concussive, struck Chakotay in the face and made him feel sick.

"What do you mean?" Chakotay asked.

Tuvok sighed, but did not break eye contact. "Something is wrong with Captain Janeway," he said. "What is it that ails her?"

"She has a cold," Chakotay said stoutly.

"And you and I both know that that is not the truth—or at least not all of it."

Chakotay's jaw tensed, and when he spoke his voice was terse. "Are you saying that I'm lying to you, Lieutenant?" he asked.

"I believe that you are trying to protect her," Tuvok replied, "which is a noble endeavor, but one that will aid no one—least of all her."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because I know the captain," Tuvok said. "I know her better even than you."

Chakotay bristled.

"That was not meant as an insult to you, Commander," Tuvok said. "Merely as a statement of fact. I have known her for many years more than you have—and as such, I have been with her through many trials of fire." He paused, and his eyes grew leaden with the weight of the words on his tongue. "She always seeks to weather them alone," he said at last, "but in the end, that isolation is that which cripples her."

Chakotay stared. It struck him, very suddenly, that Tuvok's calm was just as much a façade as his own. Was it not said that Vulcans felt just as deeply—deeper, even—than humans? That their logic was a shield and wall against the depth of that emotion, so that it could not rule and destroy them?

Did that not mean, Chakotay thought, that Tuvok did have emotions just as strong and deep as his own? But only that they were kept well-hidden behind a mask even thicker and more resolute than his?

With a jolt, Chakotay also realized that he had never once heard Tuvok speak so personally about Kathryn—and that what Tuvok was telling him was as much of a secret as the one that Chakotay was trying to keep now. The trust he was showing in Chakotay, to tell him this and so bluntly, took Chakotay by surprise. Ever since the beginning, Chakotay had seen himself as being on one side of Kathryn, and Tuvok on the other, the two of them never able to meet around her.

Chakotay looked at Tuvok, took in the Vulcan's still serene expression, the darkness of his eyes, the slender fingers clasped loosely in his lap, and felt as if, for the first time, he truly saw him.

Tuvok was Kathryn's oldest friend. He was, perhaps, her greatest friend. He knew already, better even than Chakotay, that Kathryn Janeway was human—that she was weak, that she was fallible, that she could be wounded and destroyed. He could tell Tuvok the truth of what was happening without risking any damage to Kathryn's image.

Yet still the words of his confession clung to the back of Chakotay's throat. Was it fear that kept them rooted in his chest, unable to come forth? Was it resentment? Was it jealousy? Or was it simply that Chakotay had kept the secret of Kathryn's illness—of her weakness—for too long, and now the words had been soldered into his body, unable to be spoken?

Tuvok must have seen the hesitation in Chakotay's eyes or face, for he leaned forward, elbows on knees, and said, "Commander." And then, softly, "For her sake."

Chakotay opened his mouth, the words sticky like soft lead on his tongue—and flew from the chair as the ship gave a sudden, terrible lurch. He hit the ground hard, the air pushed from his lungs by the impact. Through the crash of pain as his head slammed into the edge of the coffee table, he heard the first wail of the red alert.

"We are under attack," a masculine voice said over the system. "Report to battle stations."