Disclaimer: I absolutely do no own Star Trek:Voyager or the characters. I just play with them.

A/N: So I decided to challenge myself a bit by trying to write something in first person format. This is the result. Chakotay's POV with a bit of implied J/C. Enjoy! And thanks for stopping by to read! Warning: Implied torture.

She's hurting I can tell. She won't show it, but I know she is. Who wouldn't be after what they put her through? I can't be sure what exactly they did put her through, but the guards certainly hadn't been gentle when they'd practically dragged her from our cell or when they'd shoved her back inside hours later. She'd been shaking, a very subtle vibration that I only noticed because I'd caught her when she stumbled inside, and I wasn't sure whether it was from being cold or from blood loss or...something else.

I had attempted to give her my uniform jacket, or what was left of it after the shuttle crash, but she wouldn't allow it. Apparently she'd thought I might need it at some point. Either that or she was just being stubborn again. Neither would surprise me anymore.

That'd been at least two hours ago though and she was asleep now. She probably needed it judging from the dark circles under her eyes and the way she winced whenever she moved too quickly. I on the other hand couldn't sleep or even bring myself to close my eyes. Maybe it was completely illogical, but I felt that if I fell asleep than something bad would happen.

Something worse than had already happened that is.

I just knew, call it a gut knowledge, that if I let down my guard they would come back. Them, with their rough gravel like hands and slit-eyes that seemed to pierce through to my very soul, they would return and they would take Kathryn to continue their 'welcome to our world' party. I'd go in her place if they'd allow it, but apparently it was a VIP invitation only party and I wasn't considered important enough. I should probably be thankful for that, but I'm not.

I'm so tired though. I've had yet to sleep since our capture and it's been at least a day...maybe two for all I know...since our shuttle hit turbulence and crashed on this planet. Harry had, fortunately, been unconscious when the planet's inhabitants came, so they'd left him bleeding on the shuttle deck and only taken Kathryn and myself.

The Captain and I managed to do a quick scan of the ensign before the native inhabitants arrived and so we knew he'd be fine as long as he received medical treatment in a timely fashion. Voyager would have picked up our distress call and had no doubt already found Harry, so it was only a matter of time before rescue came. I knew that, and Kathryn knew that, but our captures didn't need to know. Neither I nor Kathryn had mentioned Harry or Voyager since being captured, just in case someone was listening, but the shared looks we exchanged upon waking up in this cell had conveyed the message clearly.

We just had to survive until our rescue came. Our captors had decent weapons and basic computer systems, but they weren't the most advance species Voyager had ever gone up against either. As long as they weren't expecting a ship like Voyager to come along, then the rescue should go smoothly.

Unless something got in the crew's way.

Or if these aliens were more advanced than they appeared.

Or if...

I really need to stop thanking about it. With a shake of my head I scoot closer to Kathryn, wincing lightly when the movement jars my side where I'm pretty sure there's a broken rib. I carefully brush some wayward hair out of her face and, as I do so, my fingers graze her forehead and I can feel the clammy dampness of her skin.

That's generally not a good sign, that much I know.

For a moment I wonder if maybe she shouldn't be asleep. If she has a head wound than it probably isn't a good idea, but I'd hate to have to wake her. I can tell she's tense even in her sleep, so I can just imagine how tense she'd be if she were awake.

I'm still debating whether I should wake her or not when I notice her start to stir. Her eyes are still closed, but as she shifts a pronounced wince crosses her features and an audible sharp breath tells me just how much pain she's really in. It's actually the most reaction she's allowed herself to show on the subject and technically she's still half-asleep so I'm not even sure that counts as 'allowing'.

Silently I watch as she takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly before her eyes flutter open and she begins pushing herself up into a sitting position. With a hand on her arm I try to help, but I'm almost afraid I'll just hurt her more.

"How long..." Her voice is dry and cracks as she speaks. With a pause she swallows and tries to moisten her lips. "How long have I been out?"

That's a good question. I wish I could give her a definite answer. "I'm not sure." I finally say. "A couple hours maybe. It's hard to tell." And it is. There are no windows or any other way to tell time in our little cell. Just stone walls, dirt, and more dirt. Oh, and the random stain on the smooth rock floor that I suspect is dried blood from previous guests. But other than that...

"Are you alright?"

I should have known she'd ask that next. It was the first question she asked when we had first woken up in this cell too. I give her a smile, it's tense and meager, but it's the best I can do considering. "I'm fine." We both know I'm just echoing her own answer when I'd asked her that earlier. She gives me a pointed look and I know that, unlike her, I can't get away with it for some reason. "A bit sore, but otherwise in one piece." I elaborate and, though she doesn't reply right away and seems to be looking me over as if to make sure I'm telling the truth, she eventually deems that answer acceptable. "How about you?" I ask, and I have a feeling I already know what she'll say.

"I've had better days." She answers with a small dose of dry humor. "But I'll survive."

She always does.

It's that single, inevitable, day when she doesn't that I'm worried about.

"Hopefully we won't be here much longer." I allude, still refraining from mentioning Voyager, Harry, or the unfortunate shuttle.

Kathryn leans her head back against the stone wall and lets out a long breath. "Hopefully."

A few seconds pass in silence before I can no longer restrain myself from asking what I've been wondering for the last couple of hours. "What do they want?"

I listen, somewhat surprised, as Kathryn chuckles mirthlessly. "I have no idea." At my questioning look she continues. "It seems our translators aren't configured for their speech patterns. I can't understand a word their saying and they don't seem to like any of my replies."

I have a feeling they wouldn't like her replies even they could understand what she was saying. "That would explain why the guards didn't answer any of my demands."

"Demands?" She asks, and I'm suddenly concerned again when I realize she doesn't remember much, if anything, about when we'd first been captured.

"You were bleeding..." I begin, glancing pointedly at the makeshift bandage around her thigh that I'd used part of my undershirt for. "I asked for some water and bandages, but they just looked at me like I was insane."

"I don't remember."

"We were both knocked out with one of their stun batons right after that." I answer. "Between that and the crash...I'm not surprised. You did hit your head pretty hard."

"And my leg, apparently."

With a chuckle I nod. "You can blame that on the piece of shrapnel that decided your leg was the best place for it to be."

Kathryn cracked a small, almost bitter, smile as she looked down at the bandage and carefully prodding the area with her fingers. For a moment I have the overwhelming desire to grab her hand away, clutch it to my chest, and hold her until she's all better.

I know Kathryn though. I know she wouldn't appreciate that. Even if she did she wouldn't allow herself to. Besides, I don't have a death wish. I'm so focused on her hand massaging her leg that I almost miss it when she speaks.

"Thank you." I look up and meet her eyes. They're guarded, as they have been for the last couple of years now, but I see a spark of honest appreciation there. "For the bandage. You did it while I was asleep?" She asks, but it's not really a question.

I simply nod, looking back down at my far from professional handy-work, and wishing for the first time that Tom or the Doc were here. For the first time...but I'm beginning to believe it won't be the last. "It was starting to bleed again after they brought you back."

Glancing up I notice something dark flash in her eyes as she looks at her leg. Almost like a still fresh memory asserting itself. It's gone almost instantly, but I saw it none the less and the thought of what kind of memory it could be makes my stomach churn. I want to ask her what happened while they were questioning her, but at the same time I'm not sure I want to know either.

The decision is taken out of my hands when the door to our cell is opened. Two guards, the same two as before, step just far enough inside so they're blocking the doorway. Once again they don't say a word and Kathryn is already starting to stand. Her shoulder grazes my chest once we're both standing and I put a hand on her upper arm, trying to convey that I won't let go. Not again. Not this time.

But she easily pulls her arm free and takes an impressively steady step forward, conveniently standing so she's half in front of me, and I know that's the only answer she's going to give to the unvoiced declaration. Before I can do more than glare at he guards I watch as they grab her arms and tug her forward and out of the cell.

Once again she's gone.

Once again I haven't protected her.

And once again I'm alone with nothing but my thoughts.

They bring her back after about the same amount of time as before. With how organized and timely it all is, it makes me think they're well practiced in this type of thing. Which also makes me wonder yet again what they're doing to her during these 'sessions'. When they brought her back this time they more or less threw her in, I once again stopped her from hitting the ground, but this time she wasn't shivering. No, she wasn't shivering. She was just on the verge of being unconscious. As she drifted in and out, her eyes clouded and dazed, I try to look her over, but almost anywhere my fingers probe makes her groan.

There isn't much blood though. Her hair is matted, her cheek split open with a gash, her left shoulder is swollen, her leg is still seeping even through the make-shift bandage, and there's a deep laceration stretching the length of her forearm. The major damage seems to be internal though and that scares me more than any of the blood.

I keep watching her, even though I know nothing will change. A broken rib and a few bruises is nothing compared to how it hurts to see her in so much pain. I would rather take the beatings, take the broken bones and torn skin, than to see her hurt. Yet I can't do a damned thing about it and I know it.

Maybe that's the worst part. Being utterly useless as she suffers. That's how I feel right now. Useless. As clichéd as it sounds, my heart actually hurts for her. My chest aches and it has nothing to do with the broken rib. No, it's seeing her like this that's doing it to me. I'll be insane in no time at all at this rate. By the time we're rescued - yes, we will be rescued. I keep reminded myself of that- by then I'll probably be talking to myself. It could be worse I suppose...

But I'd rather not think about that.

It's been at least two or three days now with the same routine over and over. They come and take her, bring her back, wait and do it again. The last time had been shorter though. Maybe they could tell her body was weakening. Her body was growing weaker, but her mind wasn't. They hadn't broken her yet and he had a feeling they knew that, which was why they were giving her longer to wait in-between sessions. More time to live with the pain without the distraction of being questioned.

They've left me alone for now, probably waiting for her to be on the verge of breaking before threatening to move on to me. Not that their verbal threats would do any good since we still can't understand what they're saying, but in my experience basic threats are universal. It's no different with our captors, or the Ack'toh, as we've dubbed them since it's the one word they repeat over and over. A look in the eye, a hand gesture, a stance or the way they approach...it all speaks louder than words ever would.

Love really isn't the only thing that's universal.

As I watch over her I run my hand over her head, smoothing out her hair as I've gotten into the habit of doing. It's my way of trying to comfort her the best I can. Though to be honest, at this point, I'm not sure if I'm comforting her or myself. My fingers gently trace her jaw line, skipping over the prominent bruise now forming on her cheek, and back up to brush invisible hair out of her eyes. As my fingertips graze her skin I note how cool it is. She was burning up with a fever earlier, more evidence that she's not doing so well, but now she feels cold and seems to be growing paler by the minute.

My heart nearly sinks down to my toes. Her chest isn't moving up and down sharply, but rhythmically, as was either. The realization makes my own blood run cold. With a frown I let my hand move to her neck and press two shaking fingers against the pulse point. It's reassuring to feel the gentle thump against my fingertips, even if it's weak and erratic.

Releasing a long breath I close my eyes and lean my head back against the wall while shifting slightly on the hard floor, but being careful not to nudge Kathryn in the process. I don't want to cause her anymore pain than she's already facing. Gradually I feel myself beginning to drift off to sleep, there's no use fighting it either at this point, and within seconds I'm dozing. As the dozing turns to sleeping, the same thought echoes continuously through my mind...

Where the hell is that rescue team?

I'm not sure what it was that woke me at first. As the sleep clears from my mind I suddenly remember where I am. Just as quickly I remember Kathryn. With a jolt I sit up straight and feel for her until I'm holding her hands in mine. Blinking the rest of the sleep from my eyes I look her over and feel myself relaxing slightly at seeing her exactly as she'd been before I dozed off. She's still here. That's something at least.

Something catches my eye and I look over to find the once gray shirt-turned-bandage now stained dark with blood and a crimson pool forming under her leg. It hadn't been bleeding that badly before I feel asleep. Before I can do anything about it there's a loud noise from somewhere else in the complex followed by the sound of feet running past the cell door. I suddenly know what it was that woke me.

There's more noise, as it gets closer I recognizes it as phaser fire, and more running. For a moment my hopes actually being to rise, but then the entire building seems to shake and Kathryn groans. In an instant my focus is back on her.

I can see her trying to wake up, but her eyelids are too heavy and her injuries are taking away what strength she has. "It's alright, Kathryn." I assure her. "They're coming. The crew is on their way and we'll be out of here in no time. Just hang on. Please, Kathryn, hang on just a little bit longer." I'm practically begging by the end, but I can't bring myself to care. I just want her to keep breathing.

"Chako..tay." It's so soft I can barely here it. "Voy..ger." Her voice is straining and I can tell it's taking all her energy just to get that much out.

"Shhh..." I brush a hand over her hair instinctively. "Just a little bit longer." I say it as if I'm fully confident in that fact, but the truth is I'm not so sure. The footsteps and phaser fire have stopped. For a second I wonder if it had all just been a dream, or my imagination, to mark my growing descent into madness.

I frown more upon noticing Kathryn is having trouble breathing. "Captain?" I don't know what to do anymore. There's nothing I can do. If she dies...she can't die. I don't know what I would do if she...

"Kathryn, open your eyes." It doesn't matter how much authority I put into my voice, she doesn't listen. "Now, Kathryn! Please..."

On some level of consciousness I feel a tear run down my cheek and I know I'm probably sounding frantic. I am frantic. My best friend, my captain, my...my heart and soul...they're all on the line right now. I can feel my head buzzing, but I focus entirely on Kathryn.

I scoop her limp form into my arms, holding her close to my chest as I've wanted to do since this started, and I press my lips to her forehead. "Don't leave. Just a little bit longer." I whisper against her skin. My attention is so completely focused on the woman in my arms that I don't notice another round of phaser fire.

When the door of the cell opens I half-expect it to be the guards again. Instinctively I hold her tighter. I won't let her go this time. I won't let them take her. They'll have to pry her out of my lifeless grip before that happens. I wont...

"Chakotay?"

That's not a guard. I look up and come face to face with Tom Paris's concerned visage. He puts a hand on my shoulder and looks between me and Kathryn. "Tom." I breath out in relief.

The pilot flashes a crooked grin even as his eyes look over his Captain in concern. "The one and only." He replies and, as I look over his shoulder, I notice Tuvok standing guard in the doorway and Ensign Jetal just a few feet away behind Tom. "We're going to get you guys out of here." He adds, and I bring my attention back to the helmsman.

I nod, but I don't let go of Kathryn. Tom tries to ease her out of grip, but I won't allow that. Not until I'm sure we're out of here. It may not make sense, but it's what I have to do. Tom seems to understand, he gives me a small nod of his own and instead of taking Kathryn he moves to help me up.

I didn't realize how much I would need that help until my knees nearly give out from under me. I've had to carry Kathryn before, ironically enough it was after a shuttle crash as well, and so I know she's not that heavy. This time, however, the weight puts extra stress on my ribs and I can't help but grunt at first. I don't put her down though. The pain is worth the reassurance that she's with me.

The trip to the rescue team's shuttle is brief. Somehow they'd managed to 'park' right outside the isolated complex. The next thing I'm really aware of is easing Kathryn down onto one of the shuttle's biobeds. I look up in time to see Jetal slipping into the pilot's chair, Tuvok mans tactical, and Tom is already scanning Kathryn. As the shuttle lurches off the ground I press a hand to my aching side.

"Hey, why don't you sit down."

The only answer I give Tom is a glare, daring him to suggest that again. One thing Paris is not, is slow. He picks up on the threat quickly and, though he obviously doesn't like it, he seems to know arguing won't do any good. As the helmsman looks back at his patient I see his eyes widen and a light smile spread across his face.

Following his gaze I see why. It's Kathryn. She's looking up at me through half-closed eyes. For a moment she seems confused, but then her gaze flickers to Tom and back. And then...

She smiles.

It's weak, but it's there. It makes my heart flutter lightly for the first time in days. Or is it weeks by now? She's smiling and suddenly I know everything will be alright. Nothing else matters because she's alive and she's smiling. It warms my heart and makes the pain ebb away for a wonderful moment. Everything will be alright now. It will. Because we're both alive and we're together and that's all that matters anymore.