Chakotay feels uneasy about how empty the tunnels have seemed to be. Only a handful of Gravatti have crossed his path between the cave mouth and his current location halfway down the second hall. Seven mentioned that they have acute hearing. He thinks that maybe they're avoiding the screaming coming from the room nearby. How ironic, he thinks, that Harry's torture may be what safely delivers him home. He can only hope that the Gravatti have burrowed deep enough to allow them a quick escape.
The strangled screams begin to taper off slightly, turning to a ragged moaning that breaks and restarts as exhausted vocal cords strain to keep working. There is audible gasping and wheezing that accompanies it, a throat in protest giving its all just to breathe. Chakotay is certain he's outside the correct door. Something deeper than sound tells him Harry's there, just beyond the door.
With another glance up and down the corridor to make sure he's alone, Chakotay slides the door open. He means to scan the room for a captor, but his eyes fall on Harry and cannot be moved. The air rushes out of his lungs in a soft whoosh, and he rushes to his side. Harry is barefoot and bare-chested, strapped to a medical cot by thick, ropy cords that stand out against his pale skin. Angry welts line the ropes on either side when they cross skin, and then the bruises give way to a terrifying pallor. If he were lying still, Chakotay would be certain he was dead.
Harry's eyes roll unseeingly for a moment before focusing on Chakotay's face. He recoils and begins to hyperventilate, straining once more against the bonds holding him and Chakotay realizes too late that his cover is still on. He takes a step back, shushing Harry, and deactivates the holo-emitter.
"It's me," he says calmly, his voice soft like wet sand. "Chakotay. Just me."
Harry is still struggling and raking in air as quickly as his battered lungs will let him. Panicked, Chakotay holds up both hands in a sign of surrender, but begins to speak like a ship's commander.
"Mr. Kim, be still." The command allows no argument, and Harry goes rigid, staring fearfully at his CO. "Mr. Kim, I'm going to approach you slowly, and then I'm going to release your restraints." Harry makes no motion to show he understands, but he stays still and maintains eye-contact, so Chakotay proceeds. "You will lie still and allow me to use a dermal regenerator. Understood?" There is only silence in the room for a few moments as the crazed panic begins to drain from Harry's expression, and then he gives an almost imperceptible nod.
Releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, the commander steps forward. The ropes are tight against Harry's skin and Chakotay can't remove them without accidentally brushing Harry's skin, and the ensign wrenches painfully at the contact.
"Shh, I'm sorry, you're okay," Chakotay assures him as he resumes his task, finally freeing the last rope across Harry's ankles. He reaches for the dermal regenerator and stops when he sees Harry's face. The almost-calm that he'd acquired when he realized he was being rescued is again eclipsed by an unbridled terror, but Chakotay realizes that Harry isn't looking at him. He's looking at the regenerator.
"Harry?" He holds the device in his palm, not pointing it anything. "Harry, may I use this?"
His eyes are wide and fearful. He tears his gaze away to look at Chakotay and stares. They just look for a few moments. Chakotay tries to fill his gaze with all his admiration and respect for this young man in front of him who has withstood so much for his crew. Harry, come back, he thinks, trying to will his thoughts to reach the other man. He can't say how unnerved he is by the fact that Harry hasn't spoken a word this whole time.
Slowly, Harry nods. He returns his eyes to the regenerator and doesn't look away or blink, but he lets Chakotay run it briefly along the worst of his bruising and chafed skin. He can barely feel the tingling of the device over the constant stinging of his recovering nerves, but he does understand that it doesn't hurt. He opens his mouth to say as much with surprise and a little wonder, but nothing comes out. Just a dry wheeze that belies his remaining pain.
Chakotay seems to understand, though. He offers Harry a hand to help sit up, and Harry gingerly takes it. Every movement is agony, but it's nothing compared to what he's been through. He doubts very much that even third degree burns would faze him right now.
"Can you move on your own?" Chakotay asks, concern and care loud and clear, but not, Harry thinks, pity. He gets his feet under him, adjusts his balance until it feels right, and nods. "Then we've got to go." He rips the holo-emitter from his uniform and presses it softly to Harry's skin. "I hate to ask this of you, but you may need the disguise more than I do." Harry's stomach churns at the thought of looking like one of those… things, but something in Chakotay's eyes makes him agree, and he is instantly enveloped in a buzzing sort of warmth that he is inordinately grateful for. He looks at Chakotay with a question.
"I'll lead you out. There was very little activity between here and the entrance, and I can probably take out anyone we meet on the way." He grips his phaser a little tighter and steps past Harry towards the door. "Voyager is waiting; she's got a lock on the point where I entered the cave, and they'll have us aboard as soon as we're clear of this rock." With a final glance over his shoulder to make sure Harry is following, Chakotay opens the door.