Chakotay:

"Hey, Chakotay!"

I turn to find B'Elanna hurrying to catch up with me as I head toward the turbolift. She's dressed in casual wear, her hair uncommonly pulled back from her face. "Where are you off to?"

"Just getting ready to go for a run," she says as she takes the last steps to reach me. "I haven't been able to get one in for nearly a week. Wanna join me?"

The stress of the last couple of days, not knowing where the Flyer was, then Kathryn nearly dying in Sickbay a few hours ago, unexpectedly catch up with me. "That's not a bad idea," I tell her. "Just let me get changed."

Rather than offer to meet me at the holodeck, she tags along as I step into the lift. "How's the captain?" she asks. Obviously it's common knowledge that the doctor called me down when the captain regained consciousness. Tom probably told her as soon as I left the bridge.

"Awake," is all I say as I stare at the wall in front of me.

I can feel her eyes on me. "That's all? Awake? What happened with the three misfits?"

Man, did that name stick to them fast. "She didn't really give me any details, but it sounds like she managed to get something out of them after all."

She laughs. "Well, chalk one up for her. Kahless knows none of us were ever able to do that." But while she finds it funny, I really don't, and she notices. "What?"

The doors of the lift open and we move out into the corridor, naturally in step as we head to my quarters. Once we're inside, I tell her to have a seat, and head into the bedroom to change. "How's the Flyer?" I ask, trying to deflect her.

"Pretty good, actually." Her voice is muffled by the wall, and by my shirt as I pull it off over my head. "The microfractures that caused the air loss managed to self-seal within a few seconds, but there was an error with the environmental controls, which is why the oxygen levels in the cabin never rose back to normal. Vorik and Nicoletti are brainstorming ideas on how to keep that error from happening again."

The rest of my uniform drops off my hips and falls to the deck, and I step out and bend down to pick it up. But then I hear her voice again, much more clearly this time. "Are you going to answer my question?"

B'Elanna's leaning against the doorway, arms folded over her chest with a smile on her face as she looks at me. Standing there in my underwear, I shake my head. She used to do this when we were in the Maquis, trying to throw me off balance when she felt that I was lost too deeply in my own thoughts. I also think that it was because she'd been trying to sneak a peek when Seska wasn't around. "What's the matter, Torres – Paris not enough for you?" I tease as I go to hang up my jumpsuit.

"Just keeping you on your toes," she laughs as she sits on the foot of my bed. "Now what's going on with you? You've been pretty quiet the last few days."

"I'm fine." I close the door to the wardrobe and walk back around the bed to the dresser.

"Bullshit," she says, though not with the venom that usually accompanies that statement.

She's not wrong. With a sigh, I turn back and face her, still holding the t-shirt that I just grabbed from the drawer. "You're right," I eventually say. "I've been feeling off for a while now." Bored. Undervalued. Wanting something different but not knowing what that is. "Frustrated, I guess is the best way to put it."

"How come?"

It takes me a few moments to find the words to describe it. "There are days that I feel like I'm talking to the walls around here. Like everybody nods and smiles, but no one listens to a word I say."

"Anyone in particular?" she asks.

I debate whether I should answer that or not. There's always only so far that I'll go with B'Elanna – usually to protect the privacy of the people involved, and much to my own detriment. "Yes…" Her eyes light up in anticipation. "But I can't tell you."

In a flash, she grabs the uniform shirt that I'd dropped on the bed earlier and chucks it at my head. "You are such a tease!" she growls, but there's laughter behind it because she understands exactly why my answer is what it is. We both laugh, and then she suggests, "Maybe you need a change of scenery," as I sit down beside her. "I could always use an extra pair of hands during the warp coil refit."

"Right. That's just what you need – an anthropologist in Engineering." The laughter is back again, but then I add, "Besides, the captain's always willing to help you out."

She shrugs. "Sometimes it helps to have a different perspective." Her amusement trails off, and she looks at me as though she knows my trouble. "Nothing like feeling useless, is there?"

"Or disregarded," I say with a sigh.

Now it's her turn to nod – she has certainly been here before – and I guess I've just confirmed what she'd suspected. B'Elanna's always been perceptive that way, and despite all evidence to the contrary, she's always been the one to hold my secrets, more than anyone else of late. "I don't think that's true," she says softly. "I think she does listen to you. It's just that for some repairs, it takes a different tool to achieve the same result."

I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees as my hands clasp together, looking at the carpet as she speaks. "Sometimes I wonder whether this tool fits in the toolbox anymore."

"Have you talked to her about this?"

I haven't talked to Kathryn about anything of great consequence over the last while, unless it's ship's business. We seem to do alright as long as we skim the surface, never delving deep into feelings or involved conversations, and while we still may chat and joke around and have dinner once in a while, the relationship we had before is gone. Though maybe it's just me; for the last few months, I've been getting more disenchanted with my job with every day, every mission, every injury. Some of the things we've all gone through lately have been incredibly taxing. "No," I tell B'Elanna. "I haven't."

"It sounds like you need to, Chakotay. If you let her know how you feel, maybe she can help." She sees me hesitate, and adds, "If you don't, it's only going to get worse."

She's right. It's a conversation I don't want to have, but I don't think I have a choice. Giving my friend a small smile, I tell her, "We'll see."

"Now get dressed," she tells me as she stands and starts heading for the door, "and we'll see if you can beat me at the Klarg'then Trail."