Turn Around -- ST: Voyager

No copyright infringement of Paramount's Star Trek: Voyager series is intended; this story is in appreciation of the universe that Star Trek has opened up to the world for the past 30 years.

This story is released under the OpenContent License version 1.0.

Introduction

Where did this come from? Well, bits and pieces accumulated over the months. I've been thinking of a sort-of-follow-on from Loneliness of Command, but that's quite an act to follow. The general theme of Janeway's stress and fatigue looked to be worth exploring, but I wasn't quite sure how to write her dealing with it.

I wondered how she'd dealt with the past six years of aging and stress, as she faces a challenge no other Starfleet captain has ever managed. She hasn't been getting any younger, and wasn't a spring chicken to start with. Indeed, I think only Tuvok out-ages her on the crew. Yet it doesn't stop her picking up every physical challenge going.

The engineering aspects of the story -- well, I'm an engineer. It was kind of inevitable. But you do have to wonder, how do you run a maintenance cycle for a ship that never sees dock?

Thanks to star beta reader Anne Rose, and to JetC24 who provide all the encouragement a writer needs.

Gathering

Janeway slouched in the bridge chair, a PADD in one hand and a mug of steaming java in the other. Her face showed a hint of amusement as her eyes scanned the PADD. Over at Ops, Harry Kim was clearly trying hard not to look at his Captain, but it was proving a struggle.

Janeway finally smirked, and turned to her Ensign. "So Harry, you want a pay raise?"

Harry had rehearsed the follow-up to his submission to death over the past week, but hadn't anticipated this particular response. He stammered for a couple of seconds, verbally scrambling for a toehold, until Janeway let him off the hook.

"Relax, I'm kidding." She looked back at the PADD. "A good argument, I'm sure, but there are other considerations..."

Her words were cut off as the ship rocked. The deep rumble of an explosion reverberated around the bridge.

"Red alert! Report!" The Captain was instantly upright, discarding the PADD and checking her sensor screens.

"Internal sensors show extensive damage in Deck 9, Sections 11 through 13," reported Tuvok. Tom Paris, already rolling Voyager and accelerating it through an evasive maneuver, snapped his head round when he heard this. "No vessels detected nearby. No incoming fire." Tuvok's fingers flew over his console. "Signs are consistent with an internal explosion. Plasma is venting into the area."

"I'm on it, Captain," her Chief reported. "We're shutting down all systems around the area and walling it off."

"A security team is at the scene," reported Tuvok. "Damage is contained. Plasma venting has stopped." He paused. "There are casualties. The Doctor is on his way."

Harry had completed external scans. "There's nothing out there, Captain. We're not under attack."

Janeway picked up the baton. "Stand down Red Alert to Yellow Alert. Mr. Paris, cease evasive maneuvers and cut to quarter impulse. Route power to structural integrity around Decks 8 through 10."

"Aye, Captain." Tom eased Voyager back onto a straight flight path and turned to face Janeway. "Permission to leave the bridge?"

It took Janeway a moment to understand. "Not yet, Mr. Paris. Let B'Elanna make the area safe before you go charging in there."

"Yes, ma'am." Tom turned back to his console, but the play of muscles on his face indicated that he had much on his mind.

"There was an explosion followed by plasma venting into three rooms and the corridors," he reported. "I have six casualties, two critical. If you can spare Mr. Paris, he would be very useful."

"Tom, go. Ensign Culhane to the helm. Computer, locate Commander Chakotay," Janeway requested. Culhane took the helm as Tom initiated a site-to-site transport.

"Captain, I'm at the scene," Chakotay said. "Please come to Sickbay as soon as you can leave the bridge."

Janeway stared at the speaker for a moment, before turning back to her console and catching up with the data feed. She knew that it was not going to be good news.

Building

Janeway stopped her run as she reached the doors of Sickbay, leaning against the wall to catch her breath before going in. As she did so, Sam Wildman came running from the other direction. One look at Sam's face told Janeway everything.

"Naomi --" Sam darted through the Sickbay door as it opened. Janeway gave her a moment before following.

Sickbay was crowded. The Doctor was busy with a patient on the operating table, several orderlies were looking after crewmen whose faces were charred beyond recognisability, and in the corner Tom Paris was running a dermal regenerator over a small blanketed form. Maternal instinct had propelled Sam Wildman towards this bed, and as she approached a small voice could be heard. "Mommy..."

Tom gently deflected Sam's attempt to scoop up her daughter. "Give me some space here, Sam. We need to clean her up a bit, but Naomi is going to be OK. Right, Naomi?"

Janeway closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer of thanks. Leaving the Wildmans, she crossed to the Doctor.

The patient turned out to be Ensign Strickler, moaning in pain as the Doctor tried to seal over his burns with synthiderm. Janeway was surprised when a forcefield bounced her backwards.

"Sorry Captain," said the Doctor, not slowing down in his work one bit, "but I need this area as sterile as possible. Ensign Strickler has 70% burns, and if I'm not careful then there's a real risk of serious infection." He scooped a hypospray off a tray and shot a dose of something into Strickler. "I'll be with you in about ten minutes."

Janeway nodded. "B'Elanna's got a crew looking at the scene right now. She hopes to have a report in an hour or so. I hear her and Tom's quarters are wrecked."

Chakotay agreed. "They can probably salvage some of the fittings, but they'll have to move somewhere else for several weeks -- and redecorate from scratch." He sat Janeway down and brought up plans of Deck 9 on the Doctor's monitor. "A plasma conduit running above Section 12 ruptured in three places, damaging another conduit and some optoelectronic routers. The plasma flooded Tom and B'Elanna's quarters, triggered the door mechanism, and came out into the corridor."

Chakotay sat down beside her, looking tired. "Naomi was outside, talking to a Security team about something. The plasma caught them unawares." He pointed through the glass wall to a bio-bed, where a form was covered by a blanket. "Lieutenant Ayala was closest to the door when the plasma cloud came through. There wasn't much that the Doctor could do."

There was silence as Janeway stared through the glass. She remembered talking to Ayala the day before last, about some security access problem. The Maquis crewman had always been good to work with, not one of Nature's great talkers but a good listener and an efficient worker. Janeway half-smiled, recalling a few weeks ago when Tal Celes was trying to get Ayala out on a date. Gossip was not slow to spread on Voyager; Celes may have imagined that no-one else knew of her desires, but even her Captain had been wise to events.

Chakotay broke the silence. "Ayala was one of the Maquis. It might be easier if I dealt with his effects."

The Captain shook her head. "Thank you, Chakotay, but he's been one of my crew for six years. It's my job." She tried to remember the information in his personnel file. "He doesn't have parents alive, does he?"

"Killed by a Cardassian raid," confirmed Chakotay. "I think he has been in contact with his sister since Pathfinder got two-way mail going." He hesitated. "Really, Kathryn, you've got enough to deal with. Let me handle this."

"No, Chakotay." Janeway searched for the right words. "This is something I must do myself. You should look after the living; the dead are my responsibility." She pushed back her chair and went back into Sickbay.

The three conscious injured crewmen were badly burned, but Tom Paris's assurance that the burns were mainly superficial had cheered them a little. Janeway spent some time talking with them, studious avoiding the subject of Ayala or Strickler, then moved to the Wildmans.

Naomi had gone to sleep, and Sam Wildman was sitting by the bed stroking her daughter's hair, careful not to touch the burn that covered half her face. She looked up as Janeway approached, and managed a smile.

"How's she doing?" asked Janeway softly. The small Captain's assistant had a special place in her Captain's heart.

"Tom said she'll be alright," said Sam. "The Doctor can remove the burn, and she shouldn't be left with any marks -- not on her face, anyway..." Her voice tailed off, and Janeway saw tears start in her eyes.

"She's a fighter, our Naomi." Janeway searched for words that might help, but found few. "Sam, this whole ship is here for you and Naomi. You know that."

Sam managed to nod, and half-smile through the rising tears. "The Doctor had to threaten to station Tuvok outside Sickbay to keep Seven and Neelix out. Neelix is coming in later, once the Doctor has discharged the others."

Janeway took another look at the sleeping girl. "Tell me when she wakes up again, and I'll come straight down." Her combadge bleeped for attention, and she silenced it. "Chakotay will cover your duty shift, Sam. Let me know if I can do anything else." She squeezed Sam Wildman's shoulder, and then went back to the Doctor.

The forcefield was still in place, but the Doctor came through it to meet her this time. "He'll live, Captain, but it will be a long time before he's back on duty. I nearly had to remove his right arm, the nerve damage was that bad. He's sedated now, and will stay that way for the next week while I support his immune system and work on regenerating the dermis."

The Doctor's face was holographic, so stress lines should not have shown, but Janeway could have sworn that he aged right in front of her. "The short version, Captain, is that he was incinerated. He took most of the heat of the plasma; what flowed around him was relatively cool, which is why the rest of the group are basically fine. But the Lieutenant was basically cooked through in seconds. No-one could do anything for him. He didn't suffer -- death must have been instantaneous." The Doctor looked around for a PADD. "I must start my report for Starfleet Medical."

Janeway let the Doctor go to his office. Chakotay had already departed, no doubt to sort out the duty shifts. Janeway sighed, and set off for her ready room.

Kindling

It was two hours after end of shift before Janeway's ready room door chirped to announce the arrival of B'Elanna Torres.

"Evening, Captain." The Chief more or less fell into a chair, and wiped sweat from her brow. "We've found the cause. Old age."

Janeway's eyebrows rose, as she pushed her coffee mug over to B'Elanna. "Say what?" She noticed a small burn on B'Elanna's hand, and various soot and scratch marks all over her uniform.

"The plasma conduit was six years old, and it's never really been maintained," admitted B'Elanna. "It's not critical to ship ops, and in the heart of the ship it's not that vulnerable to battle damage. We've always had more urgent things to do than check out non-critical ducts that are functioning perfectly."

"Is it a flaw in Voyager's design then?" The Captain was understandably concerned. The last thing the ship needed was a systemic design defect.

B'Elanna shook her head, sinking half the mug in one gulp. "No. That duct is on a four year maintenance cycle, but it's the dockyard cycle -- you need to take out the ceilings in a third of Deck 9 to get full access, and that's not a job to do in an active ship."

"So..." Janeway considered the implications. Her Chief was there first. "So this was basically bad luck. The duct failed in less than its expected life, but within the specified variance, and it happened to do so during the 10% of its life that live plasma was being vented through it. On the plus side, no-one was in those rooms when it went." She hesitated. "I heard that Ayala didn't make it. How are Naomi and Strickler?"

"Strickler's badly hurt, but will recover," Janeway told her. "Naomi -- well, her body will heal, but it's not something that should happen to any five-year old."

B'Elanna agreed. "Space isn't a place to keep a child safe." She unconsciously stroked her belly. "I'll visit her when the Doc lets me."

Janeway managed a smile. "Get in line, B'Elanna; the line is fifty metres long and increasing by the minute." She paused. "How are you and Tom?"

B'Elanna looked puzzled. "We're doing fine, except that he's just discovered anchovy pizza and it turns my stomach when we start -- oh, you mean our room?" Off Janeway's nod, she continued. "We managed to save most of the irreplaceable stuff. My bat'leth was fine; they're built to take a lot of knocks. Tom's TV was wrecked, but I've still got the replicator pattern somewhere. I'm moving in with Megan Delaney and Tom with Harry until we can get the room habitable again."

"Yeah, but in Engineering we have near misses all the time. No big deal." B'Elanna finished the coffee, coughed and shoved the mug back across the desk. "You'll get my formal report in the morning, but if there's nothing else then I'd like to turn in."

"That's fine; thank you, B'Elanna." Janeway watched her Chief go, then turned back to her console and re-read the half-written letter.

Dear Sally,

By now you know that your brother Alex was killed in an accident on Voyager on Stardate 53613. I was Alex's Captain for six years, and Starfleet regulations say that I should inform you of my deep regret of his death, and send my condolences. But as someone who knew your brother, I am writing to tell you that he was someone of whom you should be very proud.

Alex joined Voyager after his ship was crippled in the Badlands. As Maquis, I was at first suspicious of him and his crew; however, it was soon clear that Alex was a consciencious and competent Security officer. On several occasions I have trusted my life to Alex, and have always felt secure in doing so. He made a very real contribution to bringing Voyager home, and his skill and courage were examples of the finest traditions of Starfleet crew.

As a man, Alex was well-liked by Voyager's crew, by Starfleet and Maquis alike. I remember one time when

Tal Celes came in. The Captain was surprised, but rallied well. "Celes, how are you? What can I do for you?" She stopped as she saw her crewman's face.

Celes had clearly been crying, her eyes red and swollen. There had clearly been an effort to clean her up, but not a very successful one.

"Captain, the memorial service for Alex -- Lieutenant Ayala -- I'd like to speak at it, if that would be all right."

Janeway was going to say that she hadn't even thought about planning the service, but instinct told her that this would not be a wise move.

"Of course, Celes," she assured the tearful sensor analyst. "I'll email you when I've sorted out the order of service."

Tal Celes left with profuse thanks, and Janeway gently lowered her forehead to the desk. If ever a Captain needed a reason to avoid crew losses -- she stopped that thought in its tracks and chided herself for being so callous.

The Sickbay lights were dim when Janeway entered. The only bright light came from the Doctor's office; the Doctor himself looked over to see who had come in but, seeing his Captain, satisfied himself with a small nod of understanding.

Janeway made her way over to Naomi's bed where a hunched-over, whiskered shape was propped between a stool and the wall. Woken by her soft-footed approach, Neelix started upright but Janeway waved him back.

Neelix glanced back to his god-daughter. "She was awake just now; long enough to tell her mother to go to bed. Seven has just taken Sam back to her quarters - poor thing, she's exhausted." He looked more sharply at Janeway. "How could this happen?"

Janeway waved a hand as she sat down. "The short version? Lousy, rotten bad luck. B'Elanna will be crucifying herself and the engineering crews to make sure it never happens again, but there wasn't anyone at fault." She took hold of Naomi's unburned hand, at which her youngest crew member woke with a small start.

"Mom -" Her eyes adjusting to the gloom, Naomi saw the unmistakable outline of her Captain's bob. "Hey, Captain." A small and shy smile appeared on her face, unhidden by the burned skin.

"Hello, Naomi." Janeway couldn't help but smile too, the warmth of her expression spilling across the bed. Naomi's hand tightened on her Captain's.

"I promise, Captain, I'll be fit for duty in no time. Don't let anyone else be your assistant!"

"You're my right hand, Naomi," Janeway assured her, "and the command chair is ready for you whenever you feel ready for it. Don't rush back; I need an assistant who's fighting fit so that she can sort out the mess that Commander Chakotay is making of my ready room."

"Aye, Captain." Naomi turned to Neelix. "Neelix, can I go back to my cabin soon? The Doctor's really nice and everything, but I'm really uncomfy here, even with you and Mommy around." She peered over Neelix's shoulder. "Where is Mommy?"

"Seven took her back to her room; she was really tired." Neelix patted his god-daughter's shoulder. "I promise, we'll get you back into your room as soon as we can."

"Okay. Captain, were the others all right? Neelix says he isn't sure what happened." Naomi's voice held no atom of distrust, but Janeway caught a quick and panicked glance from Neelix. Command had equipped her to make quick decisions. Experience had taught her - and Neelix - that Naomi tended to discover the truth sooner rather than later.

"There was a plasma leak from an old and rotten conduit," Janeway told Naomi. "It blew out the doors and caught you and the security detail from behind. We managed to shut it off quickly, but you were all burned. Thank goodness the Doctor is so good at treating burns - he says that in a week's time you won't be able to tell that it ever happened to you."

Naomi, wise for her age, had spotted the unanswered question. "There's someone else in Sickbay, behind that forcefield - I've seen the Doctor go there. Was it Alex? I think I remember seeing him between me and the fire -" the last word caught in her throat and tears appeared in her eyes. Neelix was there immediately, arm around her and eyes glowing with a fierce protectiveness.

"That's Ensign Strickler," Janeway told her. "He's quite ill, but the Doctor says that he will be all right now."

Seven chose this moment to come back into Sickbay. Naomi's delight at seeing her was obvious. Janeway decided to use this as a leaving cue.

"I'll be around, Naomi. If I can do anything, anything at all, just call me." She put together a mock stern face. "And that's an order, Crewman."

"Aye Captain. Thanks." Janeway left the three friends and headed back to her quarters.

Sleep did not come easily that night. Janeway tossed and turned through the hours, and was starting to consider seriously getting a sleeping hypospray from the Doctor when she finally dropped off. Even then, her sleep was dark with danger. She woke with a jerk around 4am, scared out of sleep by the image of a searing flame coming through the ceiling towards her.

"Computer, lights, low." She swung her legs out of bed, shakily, and grasped for the glass of water beside her bed. She had seldom felt the need to make her windows opaque at night, so stared out at the quiet blackness while taking steadying sips of water.

"Computer, locate Commander Chakotay." She rebuked herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. What was she going to do, ask him to tuck her back into bed and read her a story?

"Commander Chakotay is on the bridge." The computer paused expecting a follow-up. When none came, it lapsed back into its sleep.

Janeway wrapped her robe around herself, sat in front of her terminal and called up the half-finished letter to Ayala's sister. The next Pathfinder transmission would not go out for another week, but the sooner this was completed, the sooner she could stop thinking about it.

It was not meant to be. Half an hour later her eyes blurred with tears and she slammed her hand onto the console to shut it off. There was a final rebuking chirp, and the cabin was silent except for her sobs.

The alarm hummed her awake at the regulation fifteen minutes before shift start. Janeway stirred to find herself on the bed, half-covered by her robe and freezing cold. She couldn't normally sleep with the heating on, so relied on warm bedcovers - the covers that were now spread half over the bed and half over the floor. Her hair felt matted, and her head as if it had been stuffed full of sand.

A bath would help. She stumbled to her bathroom, opened the taps and poured most of a bottle of perfumed bath foam into the frothing water. The water level rose steadily under a growing blanket of foam, until she pulled off her nightdress and sank into the warmth with a blissful sigh.

The hot water worked its magic on her muscles, un-knotting her shoulders and washing her clean. She slowly closed her eyes and let the heat flow through her. The outside world ceased to exist, and her mind emptied of worries and stresses.

The communicator beeped at her, startling her back to wakefulness. "Chakotay to Janeway."

She checked the chronometer. Damn, it was nearly an hour after shift start. Where had the time gone?

"Sorry Chakotay, I've been up to my eyeballs in stuff," she said, not quite untruthfully.

She thought frantically. "Ah, yes but give me a few minutes." Bath time over all too soon, she went for a towel and her uniform.

The Commander arrived a discrete ten minutes later. Whether he had guessed about the bath she knew not, but if he had then he was scrupulous about avoiding mentioning it. Somehow she had managed to make herself presentable, dry her hair, and be seated in front of her terminal by the time that he rang her door chime.

"Here's the night shift report." He handed over a PADD, eyes searching her face. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you Chakotay." She picked up the PADD and looked at it. "We need to arrange Lt. Ayala's memorial service. If I put the order of service together, could you speak as his Commander?"

"Of course." His eyes found and held hers. "Kathryn, he's not the first crew member to die in the Delta Quadrant. He may well not be the last."

"I know that, Chakotay. I never thought that getting home was going to be easy, nor free of losses. He was a fine man, and we'll miss him, but we need to carry on."

She waited until the door had shut, then her hands balled into fists and she struck the console nearly hard enough to dent the screen. It was certainly hard enough to dent her hand.

There were the usual trivial yet vitally important issues to deal with during the day's shift. It was afternoon by the time that Janeway had any time to herself, and that was interrupted by a visitor to her ready room.

"Come!" Janeway looked up from her second coffee of the day with an impatient expression, which melted immediately that Sam Wildman's face appeared in the doorway.

"She's doing okay, thank you Captain. The Doctor has just allowed her back to her room, and she's asleep so I can come to see you to say thank you." Sam Wildman hadn't slept that well either, by the look of her, but seemed a little more relaxed than yesterday. "You mean a lot to Naomi, I'm sure you know, and she was so happy that you came to see her."

Sam searched for words, and chose them carefully. "I heard about Lieutenant Ayala from Celes. Now that we can transmit to the Alpha Quadrant, I wondered whether it would be okay for me to send a letter to his parents?"

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "His parents are dead, but he has a sister; I don't see why you shouldn't write to her. What do you want to say?" Sam hesitated, and Janeway rebuked herself for her curiosity. "Sorry, none of my business. Anyway, yes, fine, no problem."

Sam withdrew, and Janeway went back to her PADD. She had the order of service more or less figured out, but half of Engineering wouldn't be available for the next week due to working frantic shifts testing and fixing all the internal plasma ducts. B'Elanna had also roped in some of Security for their expertise in disassembling and searching parts of the ship, so the service was looking increasingly unlikely to run smoothly.

"Do you have some time for me, Captain? There is a matter on which I would appreciate your guidance."

She glanced at the clock on her wall. Half an hour before end of shift. And she wasn't more than two thirds of the way through her in-tray.

"Come and find me in an hour, Tuvok. Out." She went back to the fourth re-reading of the next month's duty shifts, trying in vain to make enough of it stick in her mind to formulate a sensible assessment.

The next thing that she knew, the door was chirping at her and she was raising her head off the desk.

Tuvok entered, and she involuntarily flicked her eyes to the clock. An hour and a half had vanished. What had happened?

Tuvok seemed unusually ill-at-ease. "Captain, Lieutenant Ayala was one of my crew members, and I believe that it is necessary that I speak at his memorial service. Yet I am unsure what to say. I thought that you might be able to offer me your thoughts."

Janeway ran her fingers through her hair. "Tuvok, there's not a script or anything. What you say has to come from your heart. I can't tell you what you should say; I'm going to describe Lieutenant Ayala as a good, kind man, who always had a good word for people. I remember a quiet moment on the planet where the Kazon abandoned us; I saw Lieutenant Ayala offer his food to a hungry crewman, then afterwards pitch in to build a shelter and work harder than anyone. He and I happened alone in the mess hall late one night, fell to talking, and we found out that we both loved cave diving when we were younger. He was a fine officer, a fine man and I will miss him greatly."

Tuvok was absorbing all this with a poker face. Janeway leaned forward. "Tell the ship what you will remember of Ayala, Tuvok. That's all you need to say."

Tuvok nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Captain. I will meditate on this. Perhaps it will become clearer to me." He stood and left.

Janeway fell back in her chair, tired beyond words. She pushed a stack of PADDs away from her and contemplated the stone-cold coffee sloshing at the bottom of her mug.

Commander Chakotay stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. "I was wondering whether you'd forgotten about dinner, or perhaps you'd cremated it beyond recognition and were hiding in shame." Despite herself, Janeway felt a small chuckle bubble up inside. "If so, I can probably spare a few replicator rations. How about it?"

Now smiling, the Captain creaked out of her chair. "Show me the way, Commander."

The messhall was far from busy when they came in, and as they worked their way through a spicy pasta dish the few remaining crew members drifted out. By the time that Chakotay conjured a gooseberry soufflé out of the replicator, they were alone.

Chakotay was laughing at Janeway's impression of Harry Kim the previous day when he saw his Captain's face change. The smile that had been there was gone, and in its place was an expression of such tiredness and sadness as he had never seen before.

"It's too much, Chakotay," she admitted. "The ship's falling apart, and I think I'm falling apart with it. The past day -- I've been so tired, and I can't afford to be. Everyone is leaning on me after Ayala's death, and I've got no-one to lean on."

"You have your first officer," Chakotay said quietly. Janeway looked straight at him for the first time in many weeks. She saw the streaks of grey in his close-cropped hair, the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, and the piercing grey irises now focused on her. "I'm here for you, Kathryn, always. You know that."

"I know, Chakotay, and I appreciate it. But your job is to look after the crew, not the Captain. I can't ask you to take on my job as well as your own. It's not fair on you, or on the crew. They have their work to do; I have mine. How can I ask them to turn up for their shift and do what they're good at if I don't?"

"I can't shoulder all the burdens for you, Kathryn," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean that you have to do everything yourself. Let me help. Let go of Voyager, just a little."

"I can't," she admitted. "I feel like I'm only just holding the ship together as it is. We're too far from help, in too deep in the Delta Quadrant. I can't afford to let anything go wrong."

"Things are always going wrong," Chakotay pointed out patiently. "This is a starship. It's one of the most complex organisms known to man; things are going to break. We have over 150 people on board, each with their own fears, hopes, worries and battles to fight. People are going to disagree, argue, feud, fight -- " his voice softened, "-- but they are also going to work together, support one another, make sacrifices for each other and for the ship, and love one another."

There was a moment of silence. Janeway toyed with what remained of her pasta, avoiding Chakotay's eyes. Finally she spoke.

"NO!" She stood and glared at her Commander. "I'm not talking about running the damned ship! It won't work, you and me! In six years haven't you figured that out?"

"Since the day you boarded Voyager I've felt your eyes on me, Chakotay. Oh, don't get me wrong, you've never done or said anything inappropriate, and you've been the soul of discretion, but I've always known how you felt." She paused. "Maybe if we hadn't been stranded out here in the Delta Quadrant, maybe if there hadn't been Mark... oh Chakotay, I'm so sorry that things have turned out this way. But there's no future for us -- I can't let it happen."

There was a long silence between them. Janeway sank back into her seat and sighed.

Chakotay finally broke the impasse. "Do you remember the story of the Angry Warrior?"

A smile finally broke across Janeway's face. "Oh yes, Chakotay. The Warrior and the Goddess. I remember each day on that planet like it were yesterday." Her eyes focused on a moment past. "That tub you made -- did I ever tell you about the leak that it sprung?" Despite herself, she giggled.

Chakotay smiled too, memories equally clear in his mind. "You're a hard woman to please, Kathryn Janeway. I wondered why you didn't bring the tub back with you when we rejoined the ship." Stubbornly, he pushed back to his original point. "I've got to meet B'Elanna just now, but before I leave, I want you to understand this. The Warrior is still willing to love, cherish and serve his Goddess, to his last breath and to hers." Rising from the table, he saw the sadness in Janeway's eyes. He didn't trust himself to say more, so bent his head briefly before turning for the door.

Janeway watched him depart. "It's not love that you're feeling, Chakotay," she murmured.

Ignition

Chakotay froze as he heard her words. He stepped back from the messhall doorway, letting the door slide shut in front of him as the meaning of the words sank in.

"Computer, seal messhall doors, authorization Chakotay Tau Theta." Turning around, he looked not at his Captain but at Kathryn, the woman.

"Kathryn, don't you dare to tell me how I feel!" Though his voice was not raised, the power within it shook Janeway to her heart.

"For six years I have been your first officer, your right hand, your conscience and your friend. Every day of every month of every year I have been there for you. Yes, there have been times when I have let you down but, believe me, the disappointment you must have felt then was as nothing compared to my disgust with myself. I have worked day and night to support you, to share your burdens and to look after your crew. And all this I did gladly. It would be enough for me that all this made you smile just once."

"This isn't a schoolboy crush that I'm feeling, Kathryn. The love I have for you has been born out of years together, of fighting for our lives and futures, of sharing joys such as Naomi's birth and Tom and B'Elanna's marriage -- and of sharing pain, like the loss of Alex Ayala."

"I don't ask you to share this love, Kathryn. I can't. Your heart is your own, and you will give it to whomever you choose. Nor do I ask you to make allowance for the way that I feel. You can be sure that I will continue to serve as your first officer for as long as you see fit to keep me. But as long as you refuse to take my heart, you can't know what's in it better than I do."

Janeway took this in, shaking slightly from the quiet force of Chakotay's words.

Chakotay came back to her, and took her hands in his. "It's all right, Kathryn. Neither of us is at our best at the moment. This past week we've been unlucky, but..."

"Unlucky?" Janeway drew breath and stood, pulling her hands away. "Excuse me, Chakotay. I'm not unlucky. I'm living a nightmare that doesn't end even when I wake up. In fact, it often gets worse. Do you know what I dreamed of last night?" Chakotay wisely didn't try to guess. "Flaming plasma coming through my ceiling. Just how am I supposed to get through a day, let alone run a ship, when I can't even escape my problems through sleep? My life sucks more than you can possibly imagine."

"Oh, please. 'Captain, a woman of your age should take it easier.' And how, precisely, am I expected to do that? I have a seven-year old ship that should have gone through dry dock twice, hasn't, won't ever, and is now falling apart and in the process barbequing crewmen and scarring children. I have half the Borg in the Delta Quadrant after us, decades left to travel across space that has lethal anomalies scattered across it like mines, and a bunch of Starfleet bureaucrats on the other end of a tin-can-and-string comms system demanding weekly status reports on progress!"

Chakotay had nothing to say. The Captain started to pace up and down the mess hall.

"And just as I think that the job of Captain is too much, the crew starts to decide that it's really not enough and that I should be the damn ship's counselor as well. Officers, Chakotay -- Starfleet officers are coming to ask me about funeral protocol and what they should write in letters. I tell you, I'm going to demand a second salary from Starfleet when we finally get back and have time to spend it. Not that I'll be young enough to actually enjoy it, of course. So, Chakotay, if you've got a bleeding heart then you can take it away and stick it where a supernova won't illuminate it, because I've had enough!"

Janeway fell into a chair, clasped her hands to her face and sobbed, huge gasps shaking her body.

Chakotay stood irresolute for a moment. He looked down at his Kathryn, and started to move to her, but something held him back. Finally he spoke.

As he headed towards Engineering he saw Neelix going back towards the mess hall, arms full of green leafy vegetables. He almost said something, but decided against it. He had done what he had to; all he could do now was wait.

Burnout

Neelix, tired but happy after an evening reading to Naomi and playing kadis-kot, came bustling into the mess hall humming a tune. He piled the leola stalks on his chopping board and started assembling his cooking implements. The hall was normally empty at this time, and the lights were still low, so it took several minutes of bustling around the cooking area before his eye happened to catch a red uniform slumped over a table in the corner.

"Captain?" Neelix put down the knife he'd been oiling and moved tentatively towards Janeway's table. "Are you all right?"

There was no response at first, so he gently shook her shoulder. Instantly she jerked awake, and he jumped backwards in fright.

"Chakotay!" -- she opened her eyes and focused on the furry face of her cook and Morale Officer. "Oh, Neelix. Hello." She blinked her way back to wakefulness, and forced her body to rally. "Any chance of some coffee?"

"Coming right up!" Neelix scuttled back to the kitchen and dug the blend of the month out of the storage jar marked "CAPTAIN EYES-ONLY". Janeway meanwhile scrubbed sleep out of her eyes and scratched at her nose. Her face showed nothing other than fatigue, except that deep in her eyes was something unreadable that had not been there an hour earlier. By the time Neelix was back with a large steaming mug of java, the Captain had downloaded the new crew roster onto a handy PADD and was apparently engrossed in it.

"Thanks, Neelix." She grabbed the mug and slurped an appreciative mouthful out of it, eyes never leaving the PADD.

Neelix nodded and walked back to his kitchen. Once there he took up position behind the serving bar, busily polishing a milkshake glass.

"You know," he said finally, "if you want to pretend that nothing is wrong, then that's fine. But if you're trying to pretend that that roster is the most riveting piece of reading, you ought not to try it in front of someone who's seen you delete the last eight rosters as soon as you got them, then fib to Commander Chakotay about PADD mail failures."

Neelix knew that something was really wrong when Janeway failed to come straight back at him with some trenchant remark about her first officer knowing who he worked for and who could roster him onto scrubbing the lavatories for the next month. Looking closer he saw the corners of her mouth wobble.

Neelix's voice was gentle. "There's something happening that I don't pretend to understand, Captain. But, if you'll excuse me for saying this, you have a first officer who is one of the finest and most honorable men that I know. If something has gone bad between you then it's not because either of you is a bad person."

Neelix pressed on. "The past couple of days have been hard on all of us. Alex Ayala was in here a few hours before he was killed, trying to put together a bouquet of flowers from the replicator. We talked a bit about Bajoran customs, tried to work out what colors Celes might like, and managed to put something together that we thought would go down well." He gestured at a vase in the corner of the kitchen, filled with a spray of pink and red blossoms. "Alex was going to pick them up after his shift."

"How could I?" Neelix turned and took a carnation from the vase. "Alex hadn't said anything to her. To tell her now, when she can only think on what might have been, would be cruel beyond belief." He came over and pressed the carnation into Janeway's hands. "I know that Alex thought the world of you, Captain. Take this as a farewell gift from him."

Janeway stared down at the blood-red petals, slowly turning the flower in her hands. Suddenly she stood, leaving her PADD and coffee mug.

"Neelix, I've got something I need to do. Thank you." With those words she bolted out of the mess hall.

Neelix turned back to the vase and rearranged the flowers. Once he was satisfied, he returned to polishing the saucepan, but every now and again his eyes flickered over to the cooling mug of coffee.

Embers

Janeway ran down the corridor, brushing crewmen to the side left and right, and on one occasion practically vaulting over an Engineering crew who were disassembling a section of deck plating.

"Commander Chakotay is ten metres outside Engineering." Janeway cursed under her breath, rounded a corner and picked up speed.

Chakotay's hand was practically on the Engineering access panel when he heard running footsteps and the wheezing sound of a Captain who had carefully ignored all the Doctor's hints about an exercise regime. He turned, and nearly went flying when Janeway cannoned into him; as it was, she drove most of the breath out of him.

Janeway disentangled herself from her Commander, and held up Ayala's carnation. A few petals had been lost along the way, but it was still more or less recognizable as a flower.

"Chakotay," she finally managed to gasp. Her Commander waited patiently as she fought to regain her breath.

"Chakotay, I've been a fool. A selfish fool. For six years you've been the most honorable, upright and decent man that I've every known, and I've treated you horribly."

Her first officer tried to say something, but she silenced him with a finger to his lips.

She continued. "When I lost Mark, it was as if someone had ripped out a part of me. It hurt so, I never wanted to go through that again. I couldn't trust anyone, I just couldn't. Even though I wanted to be with you more than anything else, it was too hard to let go and trust you to catch me."

"I kept telling myself that maybe when we got back to the Alpha Quadrant I could resign my commission, settle down and then it wouldn't matter so if things went wrong. But the years have gone by, we're still so far from home, and some of us will never return." Her voice started to break. "I don't care what happens, Chakotay, nothing could hurt me worse than if I lost you before I told you this. I love you like I've never loved anyone else, and all I want is to be with you for the rest of my life."

She clutched at Chakotay and felt his arms around her as she sobbed on his chest. For now, time stood still and there was nothing else in the universe but the two of them.

Eventually she raised her eyes to his, and saw that love was not the only emotion there. Unless she was very wrong, there was a tint of amusement.

Turning, she saw that the doors to Engineering were open. The duty shift were scattered around the room, all of them riveted by what was happening between their Captain and their Commander. Just inside the door was B'Elanna, a welding torch dangling from her hand as she gazed at Janeway. Their eyes met briefly, and a smile half a mile wide broke open on B'Elanna's face. Then she tapped on the door access panel, and the doors hissed shut.

Chakotay and Janeway looked at each other for a long while. Suddenly they both laughed.

"I'd give it ten minutes before the news is around the ship," said Chakotay judiciously.

Chakotay offered her his arm. "What say we take in some Argullian Ale in my quarters, and let them get on with it in peace?"

Janeway accepted the arm, and they started off down the corridor. "A fine plan, Commander. Now tell me, as the duty shift officer, how were you planning to write up this command conference?"

The couple disappeared around a corner, and the Engineering doors hissed open again. B'Elanna stuck her head through the doorway, checked that the scene was clear, and hit her combadge.