Star Trek Voyager: Fragments

Star Trek Voyager: Fragments (Chapter 17)

A/n: I’m sorry for not updating anything since Sunday; my first week back at college has been very hectic. I hope you enjoy this chapter and understand why it took me so many days to write!

Chakotay would never be sure how he managed to reach his quarters, his body had moved without his mind or heart leaving Sickbay. As he stood in the centre of his, suddenly suffocating, bedroom, he sieved through the last few minutes, although he could hard believe that according to the Computer he’d only speaking to Seven as little as ten minutes ago, searching for a source of solace and comfort but finding none. Despite the Doctor’s cautious assurances that Seven would recover, the memory of clutching at, and pleading with, her lifeless body haunted him mercilessly until it was all he could do to keep his breathing relatively steady while blood from his still racing heart pulsated through his ears. He relentlessly pushed the thought that Seven’s brush with mortality was the tip of an overwhelming, deathly iceberg to the back of his mind but the thought slid easily back to the forefront of his concerns with a sickening resilience. After all, she’d already escaped fate once, but this time Icheb wouldn’t be able to hold it back with a donated cortical node…

Chakotay couldn’t suppress a violent shudder as he analysed the sinister logic of this thought and suddenly felt freezing. Trickles of icy sweat clung to his brow and the collar of his uniform felt so tight at his throat he felt he was being slowly strangled by the stiff, itchy fabric. With a growl of achingly powerless frustration, he shed the jacket of his uniform and threw it forcefully into a nearby chair. It was only when the arrow of silver that was his comm. badge caught the dim light that he remembered he was technically still on duty, well, there was really no technically about it, he was only an hour into his self-assigned shift on the Bridge. The oft repeated war in his mind between duty and emotion raged for a moment or two before he decided that an officer as distracted and exhausted as he was now was in no fit state to command, which, by definition, was to have other people’s lives in his hands. Quickly he snatched up the comm. badge, “Chakotay to Bridge.” He hailed sharply.

“Yes Commander?” Harry Kim’s voice echoed through and Chakotay couldn’t help but sag slightly in relief, he would never have held up against the Captain, or Tom for that matter, who would’ve both asked why he was skipping out, Kathryn in all seriousness and Tom jovially, but Harry was different, obliging to superiors by nature.

“Listen Harry, do you mind taking command of the Bridge for now? I’m on-duty but I’ve…been feeling the after-effects of everything on Quarra and the Doctor said I should take it easy for an hour or two…” Spirits, he hoped everything with Seven could be resolved in that time.

Friendly concern immediately filled Harry’s voice, “Of course Commander, after what you went through its no wonder, I’ll wait until Tuvok comes to take the next shift. Don’t worry the ship’s safe with me. Rest up, okay?”

“Thanks Harry.” Chakotay replied gratefully, quashing his modicum of guilt as he did so. The Doctor would understand and cover for him if anyone asked. He swallowed as he thought of Sickbay again, and then sighed. He knew there was nothing he could do until Seven sought him out, she hadn’t exactly reacted well the last time he’d attempted to force the issue. Deciding to take a shower in an attempt to warm his shock chilled body; he retreated into the solitude of his bathroom and within minutes was under the soothingly rhythmic flow of the sonic shower. As the almost uncomfortably hot water brought a pleasantly distracting throb to his skin he considered how he’d managed to get himself into this situation, so…involved, he refused to analyse the emotion further, with Seven. Kathryn had made a rule, well it was a Starfleet rule she’d decided to maintain despite Voyager’s extraordinary and unprecedented situation, that there were to be no relationships formed between crewmembers. Of course, it had been broken many times over in seven years, most significantly by Tom and B’Elanna, but never between ranks, that was a line that had never been successfully crossed. He’d been content to follow this rule on the whole, especially after Seska, had never dropped his guard too much. B’Elanna had once accused him of being emotionally shut off, only letting people get so close, too private and introspective for his own good, even while in the Maquis. He supposed some level of emotional detachment was inevitable after seeing your whole family and society wiped out in one fell swoop as he had. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had love affairs while on Voyager, he was a passionate man and had fallen for many women while on away missions, but never for long. Voyager had always moved on, and he’d left them behind, there was a measure of safety in that. Far back into his past, when he’d been a teenager playing the field with the girls in his village, his father had sagely advised him to stop leading the girls on if he still intended to go off and make his future with Starfleet rather than with his people. His teenage self had rather rudely asked in retort if he was restricted to women as “contrary” in nature as he himself apparently was. His father had laughed and replied gently, “Perhaps, but if you don’t take love seriously now, you’ll get a shock when real love hits you, and it will, rare though it is.”