Author's Note: This one is rather dark, or so I'm told. Enter at your own risk, though no one dies, bleeds, or has inappropriate sexual relations. (Sigh...)
Something jolted her from sleep.
She sat still on her bed, her heart beating wildly.
After a moment, a moment of nothingness, she stood, and crossed the carpet. Her senses were all in overdrive, but she couldn't tell why she was awake. Something had woken her, something outside of herself, but it was lost in the waking mind. Whatever had broken her sleep was gone.
As she stood there, undecided, it came again. Not so much a sound as a disturbance in the air. It brushed against her skin and sent a very real shiver down her back.
The fear hit her right after, like mud left behind by a wave.
Her ears strained for something not there, even as she walked across her quarters and put her hand against the wall. The wall which separated his life from hers. Cautiously, at first, she touched the smooth bulkhead, fighting the irrational fear. It was cool to the touch, pulling the heat from her skin.
She leaned in, resting her forehead just above her fingers. Her eyes closed, and she concentrated, trying to separate the normal sounds of her ship in the night from the whisper of suffering which stirred ghostlike in her mind. She could almost believe that it had been her own throat which released that small, aching sound, the breath of fear that shook her from sleep.
Kathryn Janeway understood nightmares.
They came when the mind was most vulnerable. Like parasites, they attacked the weak and the defenseless. They took a troubled mind and made it worse, probing at your weakest, most vulnerable spots. They would tear you apart if you let them.
She had never given in to them, never given into the fear they brought, but at times, deep in the night, she had wanted to. When her dreams were filled with faces of those long dead, and those who she might never see again, and every decision she had ever made was played out in horrifying, devastating detail, she had wanted to.
Sitting alone in the darkness, trying to remember who she was, she had wanted to.
She never knew what held her back, what kept her in the safe, comforting darkness of her own quarters. Even when she lay for the rest of the night, trapped in the waking world, at least she was still hanging on to what was real.
So many nights like this one, awake in her own empty rooms, listening for a sound outside of herself, listening for proof that she was not alone after all. When the weakness was too much for her, she would walk across the room and sit on the floor against his wall. Starfleet designers never seemed to realize how much sound the average person could generate. If she listened carefully, she could hear him move in his sleep, on the other side of that wall.
How many nights had she crouched there, in the sheltering darkness? Hidden from the eyes that would have made her ashamed of her actions, she was safe. How many mornings found her here, listening as if that was the only hope she had left?
Now, she couldn't remember, couldn't separate today from yesterday, from the days which had come before. Had she imagined it, the breath of sound that shook her awake? Was her mind playing tricks again, convincing her that there was a pain greater then hers in the darkness? For a moment, she wavered, her palms flat on the metal of the wall, her mind undecided.
It came again, and took away her choices.
Kathryn grabbed her robe from the chair beside her bed and hurried to the door, keeping her movements to just under a run.
The hall outside her quarters was dim, lit for the night shift. On a starship, where day and night were dependent on the people, not the environment, day was simulated, a dream in and of itself. Night, passing eternally just beyond the hull and the viewports, was perpetual.
Before his door, she stopped. She didn't belong here.
Her finger touched the chime.
Nothing stirred. Standing in the dim light, in her nightgown, Kathryn wrapped her arms around herself in a half-hearted hug. Something in her spurred her impatiently.
This time, the choice was hers. She over rode the lock and opened the doors.
The room beyond that door, bisected by the light, was empty and still. She walked in, and the doors closed behind her, cutting off the last glow from the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the night, towards him.
He sat still in the darkness, his form barely visible against the glow of the passing stars. He was hunched forward, his arms wrapped around his knees. From where she stood, she could make out the profile of his face as he stared across the room.
Kathryn walked slowly towards him, trying not to startle him. "Chakotay?"
There wasn't any response.
"Computer, raise ambient lighting fifty percent."
The computer chirped politely, and the room was flooded with light.
As if he was just now realizing that he was no longer alone, his head turned in her direction. He stared at her, his pupils dilated and hollow. There was something haunted about his gaze, and she realized too late that he wasn't looking at her, but rather through her, as if she wasn't there at all.
"Chakotay?"
A shudder ran through his body, and he flinched away from the light as if it burned his skin. "Computer," he whispered, his voice raspy and choked. "Turn off lights."
They flicked out.
"Get out, Kathryn."
She stepped forward. "Chakotay."
"Get OUT!"
Kathryn stumbled back, shocked by the rage in his words. For a moment, she just stood there, listening to the blood pound in her ears, listening to her breath hiss through her teeth. Realizing that her hands were trembling, she took a bracing breath and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't think that's the best idea, Chakotay. You need-"
"What do you know about what I need, Kathryn?" The sound was chilling.
She took another step towards him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. No one asked you to come here, Kathryn. Go back to your room, before I do something I'll regret later."
Kathryn. Her name, so seldom used, became a threat on his lips. For a moment, she shook from that assault, resenting his abuse, resenting his words. But under it all, she could hear the twisting pain, the pain that fed his rage and left him lashing out when ever she got too close.
She took another step towards him, trying to see the planes of his face in the shadows.
He came off the bed in a rush, towering over her. Without her heels, she only reached mid-chest on him. "Don't, Chakotay." She heard the fear in her own voice and swallowed hard. "You wouldn't hurt me. I know that."
His large hands clutched into fists. "Why don't you just leave me alone? I don't need you to stick your nose into my life every time I turn around. Just get out!"
His face was twisted into lines of rage. She almost didn't recognize him, and it scared her. Kathryn held her ground, refusing to back down in the face of his attack. She stared at him, looking for the man she had spent the last six years with.
Looking for her best friend.
She focused on his eyes. Oh, God, she thought. Please, let me keep looking at his eyes.
His eyes were still the same, dark pools in his tormented face. The pain in their depths made her want to cry. Even in the darkness, she could see her own reflection, trapped in the liquid eddies. Moving within that pained darkness, she saw herself reach out with one trembling hand and touch his cheek.
He shuddered as her fingers brushed his skin, and his eyes fell shut. "Go away, Kathryn," he whispered. The words were the same, but this time it was a plea.
"No."
"You can't fix everything, Kathryn. I just need to be left alone."
"The last thing you need is to be alone." Encouraged by his reaction, she put her free hand on his other cheek, cradling his face between her palms. "What are you seeing? What is it?"
He pulled away, and retreated to the bed. "Does it matter?" he asked, sitting down, facing away from her.
She followed him and sat down behind him. "No. All that matters is how it effects you. But I'm here if you want to talk about it." Kathryn followed his gaze, out the viewport to the eternal field of stars. "I need to know, because I need you. I need to know what makes you afraid, what haunts you where I can't help you."
Chakotay didn't reply. She reached out with a cautious hand. Her shaking fingers brushed his back. The muscles of his shoulder jumped under her fingertips, but he didn't resist her touch. Careful, gentle, she leaned into her friend's back, putting her cheek against the curve of his spine and wrapped her arms around him from behind him.
For the longest time, they were still and silent. Although she remained pressed up against the skin of his back, her hands looped around his neck, he held himself separate from her in some way she couldn't quite understand. Kathryn stayed there, listening to him breathe. At some point, she felt the sting of her own tears trapped between the skin of her cheek and his back.
His chest shook, once, and again. Feeling his sobs, she hugged him tighter and turned her face into his spine. "Don't, please don't."
He twisted in her arms, and pulled her close. Burying his face in her hair, he cried in earnest.
Hours later, he was asleep in her arms. Carefully, she tucked the blankets over them both, reluctant to leave. She studied his face in the darkness, and leaned over him one more time, whispering a prayer and blessing she had learned long ago. Now, she said it for him, even though he couldn't hear.
"May I be a protector to those without protection,
A leader for those who journey,
And a boat, a bridge, a passage
For those desiring the further shore."
Pressing her lips to his forehead, she kissed him gently, and lay back. He slept for both of them.
End.