0900 hours. I'm sitting on the bed propped against the headboard. Freshly shaved and showered, I can only wait. She sits beside me, just finished dressing, hair still damp. Our hands are clasped nervously between us. A knock and Sekaya enters with the doctors. There are three of them instead of two today. The ophthalmologist and neurologist we already know. The third is introduced as a visiting neurotrauma specialist who agreed to consult on my case.
I hear someone order the lights dimmed to fifteen percent. I squeeze Kathryn's hand as the consultant tells me he's taking more readings, asks about the headaches, is pleased to hear the last one was not as severe. I'm warned to keep my eyes closed until the bands have been removed and the skin around my eyes and on my eyelids checked. Any irritations or abrasions will be healed before I'm instructed to open. I can feel the bandage seals loosening. Cut and gently peeling away. The beep of a tricorder, and the skin is healthy. Then comes the command to open my eyes. Kathryn rubs her thumb over mine.
I find I have to struggle to open eyelids that have been closed for so long. There's some dryness, a slight scratch, but not bad. I blink a few times and barest light penetrates the darkness. I slowly turn my head trying to find shape or shadow. A faint impression of the covered window. Something tall that might be a person. Maybe the shadow of the corner of the room? I finally turn to where I know Kathryn is sitting. I blink several times again. Through the darkness rises an outline, then palest colors, and I concentrate. My eyes begin to focus and the jawline, the shape of the hair, the slope of the graceful neck that is so familiar to me begins to appear. She must see my recognition. That bright smile I've missed so much lights her face. I smile back at her. Hi, beautiful. The fine brandy voice is watered with tears. Yes, I can see you. Not clearly, but I can see. She raises my hand to her lips and kisses my fingers.
The doctors gather closer and begin asking what shapes, what colors, how far, how close. No, no pain. For almost an hour they test and retest, question, study, and give instructions for further care. I'm getting tired and tell them my head is starting to hurt. I'm given special glasses programmed to let in only a specific amount of light. Today they are set very low, but each day the level can be increased slightly. Limit my time in direct sunlight even with the glasses for the next few days. Another hypospray to ease the building headache. I thank each one of them. A kiss on the cheek from Sekaya, and I'm alone with Kathryn again.
I'm exhausted but happy. I feel her hand leave mine and her weight lift. I'm able to somewhat track her movement to my side of the bed. She hands me the glass of water. Thank you. I feel okay. The hypospray is helping. Yes, I am tired. Relieved, but tired. She pulls the sheet down and fluffs my pillow. I slide down under the cover. Feel her and almost see her sit in front of me. Fingertips on my temple, and I turn my head to look up at her. The last thing I see before letting sleep claim me is her smile.
Startling to feel my eyelids open when I wake. The dimmest light and vague shadows are disorienting. Kathryn? Where are you? She touches my arm. She's behind me. I turn over slowly, waiting for sensation of pain, no pain in my head. No pain. Yes, I'm alright. How long? Two hours she tells me. I can vaguely make out colors of her clothing. I touch her shirt on her side. Blue? I touch her pants on her thigh. Black? She holds over the book she is reading, the cover toward me. Yellow, no, tan. Tan? Yes. She puts down the book and tells me not to strain. Let things come into focus naturally. I glance around at what I can see from my prone position. The glasses will prevent me seeing very clearly because of the low light allowed. I can make out the door, the table, the outline of the folded cot still in the other corner.
My eyelids feel heavy. No, I'm okay, they don't hurt. Just heavy. I sit up and feel/see my way to the bathroom. When I return, she tells me she's at the table with coffee for us. I make out her shape as I walk to the other chair and sit down. I can see the cup but can't judge the distance. I reach slowly. I find it without her help and raise it to my lips. Thank you. I turn my head to her. Too fast for eyes to follow. Equilibrium is thrown off. I sway in the chair. She grabs my shoulders and holds me steady. I'm sorry. Dizzy. I wasn't expecting that. Give me a minute. Nauseated, I close my eyes and fight to not vomit the coffee. She sees my struggle. Need to lie down.
She lifts under my arm as I push with my legs and make the few steps to the bed. I fall across it. Eyes close. She's there in an instant with cool cloth, wipes the fine sheen of sweat from my brow. Deep breaths, stay perfectly still. In a few minutes, the spell passes. I crawl up to the pillow. I'm not ready to open my eyes again. I hear soft footsteps as she returns the cloth to the bathroom. A knock on the door and Sekaya enters with lunch. The smell of food overwhelms me. Take it out! Please! She retreats. Kathryn's voice outside the door explains what happened. Apologizes. She'll get the plates later when I can eat.
The smell of sunlight returns to my side. Yes, I can breathe in that smell. Calming. No, I can't sleep. Just need to rest. She settles beside me against the headboard. I gently slide my head into her lap, my arm over her legs. Is this okay? Delicate fingers through my hair. No, there's no pain. She recites poetry, and I'm centered again in her voice. I open my eyes long enough to make out where her arm is resting on the bed. I reach for it and smile when she laces her fingers through mine.
In a while, I'm ready to eat. I sit on the bed while she goes to get the food from the house. Sekaya has given me a plate this time. It's not as easy as eating from the bowl, but I can see enough. My stomach handles the meal without problem. A knock and Sekaya enters. I'm sorry for before. She tells me it's okay, she understands. She wants to know how I'm doing, if I'm still seeing what I could this morning. The specialist contacted her. If my exam tomorrow goes well, travel would be possible in a couple of days. Only if a starship can be found. He highly recommends against a shuttle. I remind her with a smile that if anyone can find a starship anywhere in the vicinity, it's Kathryn. Sekaya laughs. Says she forgets the woman taking care of her brother is the famous Admiral Janeway. She gathers the empty plates, kisses me on the cheek, and returns to the house.
When the sun begins to set, I ask Kathryn to take me outside. I want to see what I can of the fading day, even though the glasses will only let in a small bit of the light. I put my hand on her arm, not confident that I can make my way without it. I want to keep walking out into the yard. She leads me passed the house, and we face the lowering sun. She slides her arm from my hand and links her arm through mine. Small miracles. In this moment, we're not less-than-me and my guide. We're man and woman. I can't see much, but it's the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen. When night descends, we sit in the chairs until my eyes and my body grow tired. She leads me inside, and we follow our routine. Sleep takes me while she reads.
She's still awake when I wake up sometime later. I roll over. Kathryn, you're not getting enough rest. I know you never sleep much. I'm concerned. I have to chuckle. I'm fine from Kathryn Janeway would be one step from death for some people. Promise? She sets aside the PADD. Slides down the bed to lie facing me. Assures me she's okay. I feel her hand rest along my jaw. I've felt her do it before. Not many times, but before. I want so much to be the man she knew. I can see just enough of her face. I lightly run the backs of my fingers over her cheek. Yes, I want to go back to Earth with you. I want to see Doc. Yes, I would like to stay with you. Only if you want me to. Are you sure? I feel a soft kiss on my forehead. She turns over, and I slip my arm under her head, the other over her ribs. She sleeps in my arms again. I dream of coffee and roses and sunlight.
A knock on the door, but it doesn't open. Waits for permission. In my sleep, I utter a commander's response. Come. Sekaya enters with breakfast. I wake enough to realize I'm lying on my back, Kathryn's arm and leg draped over me. That's why my sister paused for permission. What time? 0630 hours. Sekaya is off work today. The doctors will be here at 0900 for another exam. Kathryn sits up and says good morning. I feel the silk over her back. Pink? Yes. I study the pale white skin of her shoulders, red-brown sheen of her hair. She slides off the bed. My memory of seven years at her side fills in the parts of her my eyes can't make out. Sekaya quietly closes the door behind her.
I sit up, rub my forehead. Yes, some pain. No, I don't need the medication. I'm sure. Yes, I'll tell you if it gets worse. I see pink pass by to the bathroom. Gown? Pajamas? I'm not sure. She's at my side again. Ah, hem of a gown against pale calves. Light filters through the window and I feel a twinge when I look at it. I'm not accustomed to sunlight. I shield my eyes over the glasses. Yes, the light hurts a little. No, don't cover it. I'll get used to it. I'm not hungry yet. Did you sleep well? Good.
I get out of bed slowly and enter the shadow of the bathroom doorway. Normal routine. I brush my teeth, splash water over my face. Dry with the towel. I turn too quickly. Swirling. Can't focus. I fall to my hands and knees as the pain in my head doubles. Kathryn. The bathroom door opens immediately. Her arms wrap around my chest and back. Dizzy. Headache. She's back with the hypospray in a few seconds. I fall onto my side, my head cradled in her lap. I'm sorry. Brandy whispers of comfort telling me to close my eyes, it's okay, she's here. The pain begins to recede, but I keep my eyes closed. The darkness is easier. I should have known it would reclaim me.
I struggle to stand and feel my way to the bed. I lean against the headboard. She stuffs a pillow behind my back. Reach for her and find her wrist. I need to touch her. She keeps me from descending into black. She tucks into my side and lays her head on my shoulder. Yes, I'm okay now.
Gradually, I open my eyes again. Let them focus on my knees. Follow the lines of my legs to my feet. I turn my head ever so slowly. She feels the movement and looks up at me, instinctively moving back so she's not too close for me to see. I study her face in the dim light. Strong jaw and chin. Pink lips. Perfect nose. High cheekbones. And then, I see clearly the feature that expresses every part, every nuance, every emotion of her soul. I've missed your bright blue eyes. Yes, I can see them well. They sparkle with her smile. Less-than-me is lost in her light. My arm around her shoulders folds her to me, and my lips find hers. Soft, tender, brief. I relinquish my hold, and her hand grips the back of my neck. One word in her voice that leaves me craving. Chakotay. The second kiss sweetly lingers, and then her head is on my chest and her arm around me. I forget in this moment that I'm no longer worthy of her.
She tells me we have an hour before the doctors arrive. She's concerned about me taking a shower with the dizzy spells. Less-than-me reminds my heart of darkness. I'll be okay. No, I can't be sure. A chair in front of the sink? I suppose that would work. She rises from the bed, and I track her outline as she carries a chair from the table into the bathroom so I can sit to wash up. I want to protest, to show her I can do something as simple as take a shower. I remember the blow to my head, though, when I fell. I resign myself to the fact I'm still helpless.
You can shower first. It won't take me long to clean up. No, you don't need to get Sekaya to sit with me. I know you're worried. Damn it, Kathryn, I can sit on a bed without a babysitter! Gods know I can't do anything else, but I can sit on a bed! I've been doing it for two weeks! In the utter silence that follows, my words echo through my mind, and my heart stops.
I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Come here. Please? I feel her weight on the bed beside me. I concentrate on the dim impression of auburn hair, blue eyes, clenched jaw. Kathryn, I'm just frustrated. I don't mean to lash out you. Please forgive me. I can barely see her hands folded in her lap. I pick one up and pull her to me. Hold her. I stare at the window until my eyes sting and water. Close my eyes, and realize the tears are not from physical pain. I should have known the pain in my soul would find a way out. She feels the catch in my chest, hugs me tighter. Together, we silently cry through our built up worries and fears and strain.
I gently kiss the top of her head, my mind gripped with fear that she'll push me away. I have to decide, and soon, if I'm going to be her Chakotay or less-than-me. It's not fair to her to hold onto both. I put my hand under my T-shirt and wipe her tears from her face. She shields me from the light as she removes the glasses to wipe mine. When the lenses are back in place, she tells me to close my eyes. I do, and feel her soft lips press to mine. There is so much I want to say. No time, though, as the doctors will be here soon.
She has long enough to brush her teeth, smooth her hair, and change out of her gown. I change my shirt, and she runs the comb through my hair. She has just returned the comb to the bathroom shelf when the knock announces the doctors. All three are back, plus Sekaya. I can't make out my sister's face well enough from this distance to see if she's bothered by the uneaten breakfast. I'll have to apologize later. I start answering the questions from the doctors. Some colors, but hard to distinguish others. Depth perception difficult. Outlines, shadows only for more distant objects. Close up is better. Yes, some pain.
I finally tell them about the dizzy spells. The specialist opens his kit, takes new readings, adjusts the tricorder. More readings, and then he pulls out a small neural monitor. He attaches it above my right temple and explains it will stabilize my equilibrium. As my optic nerves begin transmitting signals more quickly again, the device will become unnecessary. The more I use my eyes, the faster the nerves will adapt. I hear the sigh of relief from Kathryn where she is standing against the wall. I'm told that after tomorrow, I can travel to Earth if appropriate accommodations can be found. They'll have to approve the travel arrangements.
I don't so much see as hear her, and have to bite back a chuckle. Her command presence and voice fills the room as she assures them she will find the best Starfleet has in this sector. Gentlemen, meet Admiral Kathryn Janeway, former captain of the U.S.S. Voyager and currently assigned to Starfleet Headquarters. The doctors only knew her name was Kathryn. All three utter swift apologies. Insist that whatever arrangements she makes will be more than sufficient. Even at this distance, I see Sekaya's wide grin.
Evening again. The light through the window is beginning to fade. Will you walk with me? Watch the sunset? I'm still regretting my outburst this morning. I need time outside, out of this small shelter that has been my prison for over two weeks. It has been her prison, too, as we spent every moment of every day together for the last nine days. Nine days that were wonderful, frightening, revealing, and life-changing. She holds her arm out for me and leads me through the door.
The fading light doesn't hurt. I can make out color variations in the sky, shapes of trees, the house. Changes in the height of the grass across the yard. I'm not ready to walk without her arm, but hopeful. She walks slowly. The neural device is doing its job and keeps me from getting dizzy with too much stimuli. We walk to the far edge of the yard. Farthest I've been since the accident.
Thank you for coming with me, Kathryn. I know we come outside every night. After this morning, I wasn't sure. Yes, but it still bothers me. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I was never mad at you, only myself and the situation. When I lost my sight, I lost me. It seems like every time I think I can find the man I was again, it's ripped away from me.
She takes my face in her hands. Yes, I can see you. I know you said it was okay. I'm sorry. Her arms circle my waist. I wrap mine around her, and we stand together watching the sunset. Less-than-me doesn't want to make a choice. My heart already has. I will be more. For her.