Relief
by Kim
beta by Dakota

Chakotay sat in the captain’s chair.  Joe Carey stood at the engineer’s bridge station, chatting with Ayala over diagnostics as the tactical station was being rebuilt.  The irritating banging and clashing of the team dismantling the station wearied Chakotay, but there was no choice.  B’Elanna Torres, Tuvok and most importantly, Captain Janeway, were still in sickbay and even the most optimistic pronouncement that the Doctor would make was six weeks for the captain, longer for the other two.

Not only was Chakotay now the acting captain, he was surrounded by Maquis officers who had stepped up to fill in for the recuperating officers.  A quick glance around the room showed a Maquis at every station except engineering.  When Joe Carey left, the whole tone of the bridge would change.  Six years would fall away.

Tom Paris was in sickbay with his wife.  That left Ayala to take the con when the pull toward sickbay overcame Chakotay’s sense of duty:  Ayala was more than qualified  to take charge.  Chakotay had managed to fight off the urge to go down to sickbay himself for nearly four hours and he had a meal break coming.  He could pick up a sandwich and take it down with him to check on her – them – before returning to his bridge.

Funny, how easily that came.  His bridge.

Neelix noticed that when the monthly transmission from the Alpha Quadrant was expected, no one slept; even it was their downtime.  A dozen or more regulars camped out by the door to Astrometrics where the download was captured. They would not wait until he delivered the PADDs to their quarters, not when they could be had fifteen minutes earlier.

Seven of Nine monitored the process carefully, maintaining a strict eye on the protocols and giving some privacy to those lucky enough to be scheduled to talk to their families back home.  She and Neelix occasionally exchanged glances as exclamations or sobs caught their attention.  Today was no different:  Cella Lang and Patrick Mulcahy were finishing their conversations as the override tone drew the attention of everyone in the room.

The young man cleared his throat and stroked the narrow beard on his chin.  Seven lifted a single eyebrow at the affectation and directed his stream to her station.

“This is Seven of Nine.  How may I assist you?”

The other conversations dried up quickly as their time expired while the impatient officer repeated his demands more emphatically.

“Captain Janeway is unavailable, Lieutenant Jarkin.”

Neelix’s face displayed his worry as he looked up at the Starfleet officer.  The sneering glare and the intolerant drumming of fingers on his sleeves made the man look crosser.  “Then connect me with the first officer, Chakotay.”

“I will connect you with Commander Chakotay,” Seven said pointedly.

Kathryn Janeway looked at the screen, looked at her hands, looked back at the screen, and turned her entire body to face the EMH.

“You want me to play a computer game?”

Her deadly tone of voice normally would send the Doctor backtracking at warp eight.  Today, however, he held the upper hand.

“The nanoprobe treatment is proceeding as expected, Captain, but neural pathways do not re-form without stimuli and physical responses.”  He tapped the screen.  “This is a simple eye-hand coordination test.  You see the bird; you touch the bird with your fingers.  The speed will increase with every level.”

“And when I get done, do I get some corn to eat?” she asked reflexively.

He rolled his eyes.  “You are not a behavioral science experiment, Captain.  You are undergoing a short course of occupational and neurotherapy.  Unless you enjoy not being able to use your right hand…”

His sarcasm made her bite back her own sarcastic response.  At least, that’s what she told herself.  Better to concede to self-control rather than admit the inability to devise the right comeback.

“Work for ten minutes, take a three minute break, then repeat.  It will take you about three hours to complete the cycle, but if you get too tired, take a longer rest.  Fatigue will delay your recuperation, Captain, so don’t think you can work through this.”

Kathryn activated the program and with an encouraging sigh from the Doctor, she was left to her own devices.  Fifteen times in five minutes, she was able to hit the bird on the screen, and the computer dutifully charted her progress against optimum and normal scores.  She hadn’t yet finished when Chakotay’s sandwich, more than his presence, got her attention.  The aromatic cheese and salty olives made her salivate and glance around to see him standing with two cups and a plate on a tray.

“Lunch?”

Kathryn sat back, her lips curving triumphantly.  “Look at that.  I’m at nearly one hundred percent for the right hand and ninety percent for the left.”

“Excellent,” he said, glancing at the others in the room.  Tuvok appeared to be asleep or meditating.  B’Elanna and Tom talked quietly, their hands laced together.  After several days with Tom as his first officer, Chakotay had a good notion what those discussions might be, and he had no desire to be pulled into them.  “Let’s take a walk down to the lounge.  I could use a stretch.”

Kathryn accepted his invitation with a sharp jab at the computer pad.  “Anything that doesn’t have wings will get my undivided attention.”

“Long morning?”

She stood awkwardly, and any previous reluctance he’d had to help her get her balance had been long lost.  He grabbed her around the waist and held her up until she was ready.

“Long and boring.  How’s my ship?”

“Fine.  We docked last night at the Oannan space station for permits to cross the Nueray Expanse.  I went over, got my ship inspected, handled the protocols, and we’ll be in safe territory for the next three to six weeks.”

Kathryn looked at him strangely. “That’s an odd time frame.”

“It has more to do with an opportunity for some trade at the Nueray home world.  We made a few contacts that might be useful.”

“Contacts?”

He ignored her hint for the details.  “There’s also the added advantage that you won’t have anything to worry about and get out of sickbay sooner.” Kathryn sat down in an overstuffed chair and tried to move aside a few stray candies from the table with her hand, and to her chagrin, her overworked arm knocked them off the table.  “I see that the Delaney’s were playing poker again last night.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Chakotay replied blandly, and he put the food down in front of her.  “I know that coffee is still forbidden, but try this.”

The sweet cider caught her off-guard, and she choked.  “What is that?”

“It’s a fruit drink that Neelix found on the station.  He said that we might get more on the Neuray home world.  How is it?”

The aftertaste rolled through her mouth like the fizzing of champagne.  “It’s wonderful!”

“We liked it.  Even Seven thought it was acceptable.”

She sat back and sipped again.  “Very much acceptable. You say we can get more on the home world?  I’ll take a case.”

Kathryn grumbled at the small talk that didn’t include specifics about the ship, but wouldn’t push him.  They knew each other well enough that the borders – professional, personal, private – wouldn’t be crossed.  If she pressed him beyond his willingness to confide when she was on medical leave, he would pick up the tray and excuse himself in a tactical withdrawal.  After too many hours playing games with birds, talking to a human was crucial to her mental well-being.

“Tell me about the space station.”

“I didn’t see much of it.  Grey.  Incredible poverty.  The beggars were unbelievable.”

“Beggars?”

“Hundreds of them.  There was a war and then a famine in a nearby system.  The refugee problem is massive.  According to the station commandant, they have more than six thousand moving through on a daily basis.”

“Where are they going?”

“I don’t know.  We had a hundred requests for emergency transport assistance before we docked, and at least a thousand before we left.”

She shook her head.  “It’s hard to know what to do.”

“Technologically, these systems are more advanced than we are.  We could render assistance until we ran out of deuterium and not make a dent in the social issues.”

“Which doesn’t make it easier.”

“No.  I did meet one official from Neuray, the home world, and he asked me to transport a few documents for him to the Nueray authorities.  His communications devices weren’t working and he had no access due to the refugee problem.”

“What sort of messages?”  She sat back in the chair and put her legs up on the table, relieved to know that she was finally able to lift her legs without trembling.

“He wanted the admiralty to know the current status of his crew – living, dead, injured.”

“Can we send it on now?”

“I tried, but the Nueray system didn’t respond.  I’m not sure the message got through.”

She patted his arm, feeling the vibrancy of his muscles under the uniform.  Their vitality was reassuring and enviable at the same time.  At best, she felt like a weakling since the Borg implants had been removed.  At worst, she needed the Doctor to come and help her do the simplest actions.  Her frustration at her limitations was only slightly greater than her irritation with the various methods of therapy the Doctor devised to torture her.

Kathryn could see Chakotay studying her   He’d been ordered to not overtax her and if she weren’t careful, he’d have her back in sickbay in a matter of minutes.  “I need a stretch.  Could we walk over to my quarters?  I’d like to get some clean clothes.”

He picked up the candies that she’d knocked on the floor and placed them on his tray.  “Let’s go.”

It had been too much, he worried.  Kathryn had fallen into her favorite chair once they’d reached her quarters and dozed off so quickly that he’d contacted the Doctor.  The reassurances that she’d been fine with a short nap didn’t soothe him, and he contacted the bridge, assigning the con to Tom for the remainder of the shift.

Tom had certain strengths as a first officer.  Personnel matters were discreetly resolved without Chakotay’s attention.  Tom seemed to have little problem with scheduling.  Tom’s arbitrary rulings had paired any number of crewman that Chakotay had worked long and hard to keep apart, but in general, the feuds seemed to have faded with time and even Midori Kyoto and Timothy Andrews seemed to be working together well.  Tom either had an inside line on that grudge or he’d gotten lucky that the two were being amicable.

Kathryn mumbled in her sleep, and Chakotay’s attention refocused on her.  The obnoxious lieutenant commander from the Alpha Quadrant had dropped a bomb on Voyager with the orders for Janeway to stand down for the next month.  She was under review for her actions the previous month. Starfleet would be determining whether to charge Janeway for violating the Prime Directive in the destruction of Unimatrix Zero.  She was to consider herself relieved until the next download.  The ship’s logs were downloaded during every contact with Starfleet – but this time, the officer had threatened, the examination of the record would be far more strenuous.  If Janeway were brought up on charges, she would be expected to resign her position and let Tuvok take command.

It had been too late for him to try to contact Admiral Paris after his discussion with Jarkin and Chakotay had to rely on the Alpha Quadrant gossip chain for the admiral to get wind of this atrocity.  If Paris the father was anything like Paris the son, Chakotay could be assured that the admiral would hear of this promptly.  Chakotay had had several discussions with Admiral Paris since the regular contacts had been established.  If anyone were going to advocate for Kathryn, it would have to be Owen Paris.

Chakotay had sat back in the ready room chair and cursed the screen vehemently after the image faded.  As if he would pass that sort of message along.  As captain of Voyager, he’d begun to assert his authority in ways he’d never used while Captain Janeway was healthy, and one of them was denying the recuperating Kathryn news that might delay her recovery. No, Kathryn Janeway would not be hearing about this until Chakotay was ready to tell her.

Chakotay looked over at the dozing woman.  Tuvok take command?  Skipping Chakotay entirely?  Not on his ship.

The Nueray home world was blue and green and welcoming.  The traffic that had congested the Oannan space station was non-existent here, giving Ayala plenty of room to maneuver into the space dock.  Contact had been made a week before their arrival, and now, Joe Carey was about to oversee a structural rebuild of the left nacelle.  B’Elanna was aware of this, but had no input beyond suggesting that a new clamp design be tried for the warp coils.  Tom, by whatever means possible, had convinced her that her recovery would be sped by the repairs on the ship.  She needed to tend to herself.  It worried Chakotay that B’Elanna was so compliant, until the Doctor noted that he’d been slipping some tranquillizers in her daily medical regime.  Just until she was ready, the Doctor insisted.  The extensive damage to B’Elanna’s body wasn’t entirely beyond his ability to mend, but her Klingon-Terran physiology, combined with some neurological repairs, needed time and patience:  more than this patient was likely to have.  Tom had agreed privately to the medical intervention, and the daily reports showed progress above the Doctor’s expectations.

The captain was gaining ground far more slowly than the younger woman, but both were chaffing to get out of sickbay and the therapy routines.  Tuvok had been released to his quarters but not to duty.  Janeway still was failing her stamina tests and the Doctor intended “to keep her off duty until she was in condition to destroy herself again.”  Chakotay couldn’t argue the truth of that statement.

Another two weeks, and it would be time for the next download from the Alpha Quadrant.  Not that it mattered.  Voyager was Kathryn Janeway’s ship.  The only person who had ever tried to take it away from her was dead, and Chakotay had no intention of following in Seska’s footsteps.

What could Starfleet do, so far away?  It didn’t bear thinking about.  His attention needed to be focused on trade and making sure that his crew got the vacation they deserved.  Shore leaves were scheduled for each and every one with ample credit for food and accommodations.  Entertainment funding was far more limited.

Chakotay’s own plans were still incomplete.  Pending the Doctor’s release, Kathryn was still off-duty.  While she wasn’t up for dancing the night away, a pleasant day in the sun beside an ocean or lake wouldn’t be too strenuous.  Real food and fresh air would do her as much good as another day in the physiology lab.

“How’s my desk looking?”

Kathryn stood in the doorway to her ready room, smiling widely at him with his feet up on her desk.

“How’s it look to you?”

“Scuffed.”  She sat down across from him in the chair where he usually sat.  “Make sure those heel marks are removed before I come back.”

“I clean them off every day.”  His banter fell flat as she shifted uncomfortably in the chair.  “What is it?”

“Nothing.  Just hard being on this side.”

“You’ll be back soon enough.”

“Not if Jarkin gets his way.”

She’d found out. “How did you know?”

She shrugged.  “I know.  I knew the next day.”

“I didn’t want you to… I didn’t tell you… The Doctor…” He felt the blood rise into his cheeks as he stuttered with embarrassment.

She waved away his excuses.  “I know.  I doubt that I’d do any differently from you, if the situation were reversed.”

He stood and came around the desk to take her thin hand.  “Don’t worry about it.  They can’t expect us to comply.”

“I’ve said all along we’re a Starfleet ship.”  She squeezed his hand.  “Even if I have been hearing you refer to Voyager as ‘your’ ship.”

He chuckled.  “Who did you hear that from?

“No one.  You said it three times last night during dinner.”  She pulled her hand from his.  “I wouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn’t heard it for myself.”

“It’s been strange, being on the bridge, with all the stations manned…“

“By former Maquis.  I thought it might be something like that.”  She took his hand.  “Don’t worry about it, Chakotay.  I did it myself when I was an exec.”

“With the hassle we’re getting from the AQ about your status, it might look like I’m planning to take over the ship.”

“Never,” she asserted.  “Never.”

“Never,” he agreed.

“I’m more annoyed that they’ve skipped you and determined Tuvok will be the next in command.  It’s wrong and I won’t let them do it.”

“We won’t let them do it, Kathryn.  None of us would.”

She patted his arm.  “You have an errand today, don’t you?”

He was relieved that she’d changed the subject.  “Yes, I have to go to an office on the southern continent and deliver that message from the space station.  Give me an hour and then we’ll find a nice beach.”

Chakotay had left Kathryn  in her ready room.  It was a clear violation of the Doctor’s orders, but in space dock, there wasn’t much for a captain, relieved or not, to do.  She ordered a contraindicated cup of coffee and put her own feet up on the desk and ordered the computer to play back the last three weeks’ ship’s logs.  Also against doctor’s orders, but she didn’t intend to stop.

The hour passed without interruption and she reveled in the peaceful history of the ship’s last three weeks.  Updated science projects and stellar cartography reports filled up the next half hour, but she was distracted by the clock on her computer readout.  Chakotay should have been back.

“Security to Captain Janeway.”

She sat up quickly.  Security should not be contacting her.  Tom as first officer should be handling any problems.  Unless it was Chakotay in trouble on the planet…

“Janeway here.”

“Message from Nueray Central Policing Agent Arlac.  It’s about Commander Chakotay, Captain.”

“Put it through.”

The agent glared at her through the screen.  “We have one of your officers in custody.  Permission to beam him aboard is required.”

“Permission granted,” Janeway replied and grimaced as the screen flashed off.  “Ops, when the security officers… “

“Ma’am, there are three security officers from the planet with Commander Chakotay in transporter room  one already.”

“On my way.”

Her casual attire did not hinder her.  If anything, she was moving faster than she had in the last four weeks.  The doors were too slow and she nearly ran into them as she turned to enter the room.

A short woman in a purple uniform waited with a weapon in her hand.  Two large guards held Chakotay up between them, massive hands under each armpit.  “I believe we have a problem, Captain.”

Chakotay’s face was a mass of bruises, his arm hung at an odd angle as if his shoulder were dislocated.  One leg dripped blood onto the transporter pad, and his eyes were closed.

“Transporter room one to sickbay.  Medical emergency.”

“On my way,” the Doctor responded.

“What happened?” Kathryn asked.

The short woman held out a PADD.  “I’m Major Clecia. Your technology?”

“Yes.”

“Your man is the victim of a scam, Captain.  The ‘officer’ who asked that the message be forwarded is one of a million conmen in the Oannan sector.”

The Doctor’s arrival and quick inspection allayed her worst fears.  “No critical damage, Captain.  We can transport him to sickbay from here and I’ll handle this.”

“Thank you, Doctor.”

“There is a matter of this man breaking our laws, Captain.”

The Doctor turned to look at his captain, and she was sure that he was about to insist that she assign Tom to handle the problem, but he surprised her with nothing more than a warning glance and looked at the guards.  “If you must, they may come to sickbay with him.”

The woman nodded and the two security officers, Chakotay, and the Doctor faded from view.

“Shall we move to my conference room to complete this discussion?” Captain Janeway offered.

“Thank you.”

“Tell me what happened, Major Clecia.”

“Your officer was asked to deliver a message.”  The major pulled a small datapad from her belt.  “On the Oannan space station.”

“Yes, that’s correct.  By an official at there.”

“Then you wouldn’t be able to identify the person?”

“No, I never went to the station.”

The major tapped in the information and slapped her datapad closed.  “It was all a fraud, Captain, and your crewman fell for it.”

“Fraud?”  Captain Janeway sat down quickly.  “What do you mean?”

“The Oannan on the space station have set up a system to use travelers such as your, to transfer  ‘messages’ to the home world.  They have a hundred reasons why they can’t send the message themselves.  The messenger agrees to deliver the message to our planet in one of the worst cities of our planet.  No one goes there unless they’ve been taken in by a swindler.  Any visitor is immediately marked for mugging - or worse.”

“What do they want?”

“Whatever the victim has on his person that’s valuable.  When an attempt to deliver the message is made, the messenger is told that a deposit is required to assure the delivery.  The deposit is usually made and the victim is allowed to leave – but then often the messenger is mugged and sometimes killed.”

“Why aren’t you telling visiting ships about this?”

She shrugged her shoulders.  “Captain, we do our best.  It’s very possible that this particular scam artist is either very good or your crewman is very gullible.”

Captain Janeway was at a complete loss for words.

“When attacked, your officer, however, fought back.  There are at least three local men in hospital now.  My crew broke up the fight, but he is charged with a host of crimes.”

“But Chakotay is the victim.”

“He was until he fought back.”  Major Clecia said.  “At that point, he became the perpetrator of a respondant crime.”

“Respondant crime?”

“Self-defense is one thing, Captain.  Taking down three men is not self-defense.”

“Then what do you expect to happen now, Major?”

“It depends mostly on him.  Technically, we would prefer him to fall under your jurisdiction.  The men who attacked him were not innocent, but… our laws dealing with the scammers are quite precise.  Fighting in our streets is a criminal offense, Captain.  He would be sentenced to at least five years in prison by our judges.”

“Five years?”

“At least. Our government is trying to shut down these scammers by imposing severe penalties for fighting in connection with a swindle.”  The major tapped the tabletop.  “Tell me he’s going to go to the prison facility on your ship.”

Captain Janeway smiled coldly.  She had no doubt that her intention to say no such thing was written on her face.

“Tell me,” the major repeated, enunciating every word precisely.  “Tell me, Captain, that your officer will not be returning to the planet and is subject to your authority in this matter.”

The compelling tone and phrasing caught the captain’s attention.  “He’s under my authority… and I will see that he’s appropriately punished.”

“Very good.  Now, if you’ll give me access to your rules of conduct, I will explain to my authorities that I have verified the punishment.”

The captain pressed a few buttons on the PADD and placed it in front of her.

“Very good, Captain.  I understand that you’ll be here for at least three weeks.  Enjoy your stay.  My suggestion is that your officer not return to the planet.”

“Of course not.  He’ll be confined.”

“Commander Chakotay is released to his quarters.  No where else.”  The Doctor dropped the last hypospray on his tray.

Tom grinned.  As acting captain, he was well within his rights to override the Doctor’s orders, but the smirk made Chakotay wonder exactly what Paris was up to – and what the consequences might be.

“Ok, Doc.  We’re mightily short-staffed.  I don’t have the personnel to post a guard, so we’ll confine him to his quarters.  Captain Janeway, you’re fit enough for medic duties.  You’re assigned to him for the next three days.”

Kathryn’s mouth dropped open.  For the last three days, she’d sat beside Chakotay’s bed in sickbay and watched the Doctor struggle with the bacterial infection in Chakotay’s leg.  She’d held her friend’s hand as the first seven treatments aggravated the wound, reassured him and comforted him during delirious nightmares about her leaving the ship, and sopped his head with cool cloths as the infection raged feverously until the next antibiotic treatment was prepared.  Now they were both exhausted.  “You want me to tend to him?”

“If you don’t mind?”  The insouciant Mr. Paris was not to be denied.  “As acting captain, I can’t serve as medic.  Most of the crew is either on leave or working on the rebuild.”

She shut her mouth.  Recalling personnel for a job like this wasn’t worth it.  She could handle it.  He slept more than anything else – and she would have access to the command and communications that she wouldn’t have if she were still in sickbay.

“If you’d rather, I’ll recall one of the crew from the planet.”

“No thanks,” Chakotay grunted as he slung his legs over the side of the biobed.  “We’ll manage.”

“Of course you will.”  Tom and the Doctor were equally amused by their commanding officers, and Kathryn Janeway had had enough of them both.

“Transport us to his quarters.”

“On your way.”

The stillness of the room was blessed relief after days in the noisy sickbay.  She steadied him as he stumbled toward the bed, and both fell across it, breathing heavily.

“This the sickest I’ve ever been in my entire life.”

“I know,” she said, brushing her hand over his forehead.  “But you’ll be fine in a few days.”

“I’d planned to take you to the planet.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” he mumbled as she tucked him in, watching him fall asleep again.
He could rest easily here.  She soothed his hair off his forehead and found her mind turning again toward the Unimatrix Zero review in the Alpha Quadrant.

We have a Starfleet ship, she’d said to him.  But what if Starfleet didn’t want her anymore?

A week later, once again the covers were helter-skelter around them on the bed.  Chakotay’s fever had flared again long enough for him to kick off the blankets she’ll pulled on top of them, and he’d stripped off his sickbay t-shirt.  Kathryn had notified sickbay, but the Doctor’s program was off-line for maintenance.  It seemed unlikely that the EMH would order any different treatment  than he had when the fever had risen a few hours ago.  She applied the hypospray and let Chakotay settle against her to fall back asleep.  He slept better when she was with him and it was easier for  her to sleep when he did.  The first night, she’d tried to stay awake while he slept, which accomplished nothing but fatiguing her for the next day’s emergency when the fever returned unexpectedly.

His restless turnings made a nest of the blankets, piled up around them while they lay in the middle.  Kathryn curled up and wished he’d settle soon.  Not only for his own sake - the fever was bad enough – but she was scheduled to take her fitness test in six hours.  She needed her sleep.

The door’s light swoosh didn’t awaken her.  It wasn’t until she heard Tom’s chuckle and the Doctor’s answer that she opened her eyes.

“Like a pair of turtledoves,” Tom was saying as the Doctor ran his probe over Chakotay’s chest.

“Turtledoves?” The Doctor asked.

“They’re birds back home, Doc.  Symbols of peace…they pair up and make a sweet nest and raise young turtledoves.”

“How romantic,” the Doctor deadpanned.  “My maintenance check is complete, the captain takes her stamina test in the morning, Chakotay’s fever is down and appears to be responding well to the new meds.  I think we’ll see them both on active duty within a few days, and you’ll go back to being a pilot again.”

“And I’ll be happy to do it. I won’t deny I’ve enjoyed being in command,” Tom’s voice softened,  “but I could use the time with B’Elanna.”

“You could have recalled Harry to relieve you.”  The Doctor snapped his tricorder shut.

“Nope.  Not this time.”  Tom’s voice sounded wistful.  “B’Elanna and I watched them in sickbay, Doc.  These two needed the time.  If I’d called Harry, either or both of them would have demanded to get back in command too soon.”

The Doctor’s eyes met Kathryn’s, and she slowly closed hers again.

“You’re right, of course.”  The Doctor headed for the door.  “My program tells me that turtledoves make cooing noises and flap around a great deal.”

“They sure have the flapping around part down. Too bad they don’t coo at each other,” Tom said, and the two left the cabin.

“Coo at each other?” Chakotay’s sleepy voice said.

“Could you coo?” Kathryn asked.

“I could try.”  He pursed his lips.  “Coo.”

The rapid cut-off of the word made Kathryn laugh. “Coo?  That’s the best you can do?  Aren’t you supposed to warble the ‘oo’ part a little?”

“Coo – oo.”

She opened her eyes to see him shift around so that their faces were close together.

“Coo-oo.”

She stared at his lips.

“Coo –oo?”

He laughed in a stilted, choked voice.  “I’m afraid I’m no turtledove, Kathryn.”

She put her hand on his cheek, her thumb stroking the rough beard around his lips.  “I’m no symbol of peace, either.”

“No, you’re not.” His hand rested on hers.

The communit signal was followed by Neelix’s voice.  “Captain?  Neelix to Captain Janeway.”

“Janeway here, Neelix.  What is it?”  She answered automatically, but her eyes never left Chakotay’s.

“It’s the monthly contact with Starfleet.”

“I’ll take it in Commander Chakotay’s quarters, Neelix.”

“We’ll patch in through now.” The link was broken before she could delay it.

She scrambled across the bed and headed for the other room.  Lieutenant Commander Jarkin and Admiral Paris stood shoulder to shoulder and she saw them react to her appearance.  “Yes, Janeway here.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Captain.”

“Not at all.  I apologize for my appearance. It’s 02:15 here, Admiral.”

“We didn’t take the time shift fully into account, Captain.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.  The crew would be ready to talk to the Alpha Quadrant at any time.”

“Of course you would.”  The admiral’s jovial tone should have cued her, but the next announcement caught her entirely by surprise.  “The review board investigating your actions regarding the Borg and Unimatrix Zero has found no grounds for court martial.  No charges will be filed against you, Captain.  When the Doctor approves, you may resume your command.”

She blinked slightly, and staggered as the words trickled through her tired mind.  “Thank you, sir.”

Warm hands caught her waist and straightened her until she was able to stand again.  “Thank you, Admiral.”

Admiral Paris’s eyebrow rose.  “Commander Chakotay?”

Kathryn knew what Chakotay looked like right now – his chest was bare, his face was flushed from the fever and his hair was rumpled.

“Dismissed, Commander Jarkin.”  The admiral’s voice cut sharply through her foggy brain.

The other officer stepped off the view screen, and the sounds of a door opening and closing in the Alpha Quadrant could be heard in a cabin some 40,000 light years away.  “Kathryn.”

“Yes, Owen?”

He chuckled.  “You have no idea what you look like, do you?”

Kathryn looked over her shoulder at Chakotay.  “I have an idea.”

The admiral’s head tilted.  “Kathryn, if it isn’t what it looks like, I’m sorry.”

“Admiral?” Chakotay’s voice rumbled.

“I know Kathryn Janeway, Commander.” The admiral paused and the tone of his voice warmed.  “Chakotay.  She’s stubborn and thinks that she’s got to live the perfect Starfleet life.  If you’ve managed to convince her that Starfleet isn’t life at all, then good for you.  And if you haven’t…” He blushed.  “I’m out of order here.  I understand that Tom’s acting captain.  If you’ll patch me through, I’ll speak with him.”

“Good night, Admiral.”

“Good night, Owen.”

The bright image faded as the computer responded to Kathryn’s order, and starlight filled the room.

“Coo.” Chakotay tried to say it without laughing, but he couldn’t.  “Coo – oo.”

Kathryn stared at him.  “You’re sick, you know that.”

“Sick, but I have you in my bed.  Coo.”

“I’m the captain of a starship.  I’m a grown woman.  I don’t coo.”

“You could.”

“No.”  The dignity of her voice was ruined by a yawn.  “Can we go back to bed now?”

“I’ve been waiting for years to hear you say that.”  She shook her head as she steered him back toward the bedroom. “But this isn’t how I pictured it.”

They staggered together into the bedroom and looked at the messy nest of blankets and pillows.  Chakotay slung an arm over her shoulder.  “You’ve never cooed in your entire life, have you?”

“Neither have you.”

“I just did.”

Kathryn looked up at his wan face and smiled.  “So you did. Can we go back to bed now?”

Together they climbed over the chaos and she pulled a blanket over his shoulders.

“You never told me how much the Starfleet review was bothering you.”

She sighed, stroking the blanket over his arms.  “There wasn’t much that I could say or you could do.”

“We never would have allowed you to step down, or forced you out.”

She looked out of the window at the space dock structure.  “This is a Starfleet ship, Chakotay.  I set the rules of Voyager for the Maquis when we agreed to meld our crews.  Could I disregard that, keep command, and expect the crew to maintain the Starfleet standards?”

“You don’t have to worry about that any more,” he offered around a yawn.  “You could have talked to me about it.”

A giddy wave of relief began to rise from the pit of her stomach.  She’d had no idea herself how tightly she’d held in all the fears and worry, and was just beginning to understand as the release of the stress filled her muscles with new strength.  Tomorrow’s stamina test would be easily passed.

“I knew I wasn’t bearing it alone, Chakotay.  It was enough that you knew, and that I had your unconditional support.”

He pulled her against his chest and she relaxed against him.  “It’s not all you had.”

“I know.”

She fell asleep, and dreamed of turtledoves.