Kathryn

I can't sleep. No matter how much I toss and turn, the idea that I've treated him unfairly refuses to leave me alone. The more I think about it, the more wrong I feel, and I hate that more than almost anything in life. I don't necessarily have to be right all the time, but I have never liked being a person who's hurt another, intentionally or otherwise.

We're too intertwined now, and while I might be able to go through the motions if he left, my soul wouldn't be in it. I'd try and say that it'd only be the crew that would miss him, but I'd be lying to myself. There's no way I can function without him.

Chakotay

Just as I'm starting to fall back asleep again, the door chime sounds from the front room. Getting up and slipping on some pajama pants, I call out, "Come in," as I head into the living room.

Kathryn's shadow fills the doorway, and she hesitates a moment as she looks for me. Then once I appear she steps inside, just far enough to let the doors close behind her. "I'm sorry if I've been taking you for granted," she says quietly, her arms nervously clutched across the front of her robe. "It certainly wasn't my intention."

"I've never thought it was intentional," I assure her.

There's a sigh that fills the room, and it comes from both of us. We stand there in the darkness for a while, not knowing what else to say. Eventually she breaks the silence when she whispers, "Don't go."

"Never." Again, my mouth is ahead of my brain, spilling the truth before I can even decide what exactly that is. My answer catches me by surprise, as my resolution to stay on this ship and by her side has been flagging for some time. Hell, just a few hours ago, everything wrong in my life was her fault, and my feelings for her had eroded into nothing more than a tenuous friendship. But now I'm not so sure, and I wonder whether I've been fair to her. She carries a burden that I cannot know, that is light years above any I've ever had, and there might have been better ways to approach her. I don't regret what I've said, but I'm starting to feel bad for how I said it.

She looks small as she stands there, and I cannot, in all good conscience, leave her this way. Deciding that it's time to mend, I move to stand in front of her, noticing that she's so short now that she must be barefoot. She looks up at me as I gently take her hands in mine, giving them a small squeeze. "I'm sorry if I upset you, Kathryn, but I had to say it. I couldn't keep lying and acting as if everything was okay when it wasn't."

"I know you did. It's just that sometimes…I just get so buried in this job that – that it's hard to see anything but the end goal. And you always seem to get the short end of the stick because of it." I can see her eyes glistening in the dim light. "I'm sorry for that."

I can see genuine remorse there, and that she's much more vulnerable than she ever lets on. She's always so much bigger than life; I've forgotten that she can be this way just like anybody else. Seeing her like this reminds me of who I fell in love with years ago, and it seems to melt my resolve a little more. Not knowing what else to say, I go on instinct and pull her into my arms.

Her hands automatically rest on my back, cool against my skin as we stand there. Other than to protect her, I've never been able to do this, and I know the chances are slim that it will ever happen again. And that thought causes me a sudden pain. So I take the time to commit the feel of her to my memory, one that I can bring out to comfort myself in times where there seems to be nothing but hideousness around me. Despite all of our ups and downs, Kathryn is still one of the most important people in my life, and I wouldn't trade this for anything.

Kathryn:

It's been a long time since I've been held like this. Michael never does just this, but then he's so short that he'd have to stand on a box to get the same effect. And despite appearances, he still feels like a hologram. But this man is flesh and blood, and his heart beats under my ear as I rest my head against his chest. I never realized how much I need this. Or maybe I've just forgotten…or been in denial. It probably won't happen again – we don't have that sort of relationship anymore – but it's still a balm to my soul.

Eventually we pull back slightly so that we can look at each other again. I feel so bad, knowing that inattention and sheer stubbornness have led us to this point. "You are my right hand," I whisper, lifting a hand to hold his cheek, "and I don't ever want to have to make this journey without you." I only hope that he hears the meaning of my words, because the last thing I want to do is lose him.

Chakotay:

It's taken a few weeks of feeling underappreciated and one large fight, but I really do feel that she means it. "I promised you that I'd be here, and I meant it."

Relief seems to fill her, and she sags a little bit in my arms. "Please…promise me you'll tell me if you're unhappy. Or if I'm really not considering what you have to say. I don't ever want us to get to this point again."

"I promise." Then with an absolutely straight face, I add, "I guess we just need to work on our communication skills." This prompts a small smile from her, which makes me feel as if this has all been worth it.

She watches me for a few moments before quietly saying, "I should let you get some sleep." The hand on my cheek moves down to rest on my chest. "I'll see you in the morning?"

I nod and then let her go, watching as she walks back toward the door. For the first time in weeks, I feel as if we're actually on the same page again. As I crawl back into bed, I say a silent prayer of thanks for the dream that came to me tonight and helped me to see that while I had every right to feel what I've been feeling, I haven't been as flexible with her as I've thought I've been. At the same time though, I find my mind wandering back into familiar territory where Kathryn is concerned. The memory of her in my arms is stirring feelings that I thought I'd put to rest long ago, and now this last memory of her accompanies me as I drift off to sleep.

Kathryn:

In a way, I feel bereft of the heat of his body as I head back to my quarters, but I think that's because we just did something that's unusual for us. My heart still hurts from his accusations, but now I can see where he's coming from, and I resolve to make a better effort to listen to him more carefully in the future.

As I slip into bed, I can't help but wonder where we might be today if I made more frequent attempts to be open to him, or if we weren't living in this ridiculous situation and could have a normal relationship. But reflection is only torture, and by tomorrow I will not allow myself the luxury of it. Tonight though, as I lie in my bed drifting off to sleep, I cannot help but wonder what could have been.