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Author's Chapter Notes:

I wrote this as an add-on for the episode "Night", and part of the story is inspired by the shower scene in Casion Royale. Evil Shall Giggle is still da bomb!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I won't make any money, and I mean no disrespect.

They’d been friends long enough for him to know that she wouldn't just bounce back from her depression like a gratified thanks for the stunt the senior staff had just pulled on her. Her hasty retreat from the bridge had proven him right, and he’d left an appropriate amount of time before he followed. It hadn’t escaped him that she’d headed to the turbolift instead of her ready room, and as he made his way to her quarters he couldn’t help but chastises himself for allowing things get so out of hand.

 

He knew the decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array still weighed heavily on her. She’d mastered the act of masking her feelings years ago, but for whatever reason he could still tell when the guilt she felt snuck up on her. It was in unguarded moments, late at night, when they were working on reports or deciding which course to plot next, that he could see it surge through her, seemingly from out of nowhere. The speed at which it overtook her always surprised him. Almost as much as her immaculate ability to quickly shake it off so he wouldn’t notice. He never told her he did. That wasn’t how it worked, and years of experience had taught him that she wouldn’t be responsive unless she was the one who broached the subject. So he keept quiet, but he’d watch her closely over the next few days, keep her busy, and make her laugh, invite her to dinner, lure her out of her ready room, and with time the crisis would pass.

 

Except for this time.

 

Then again, had he really paid any attention?

 

They’d been trapped in this endless part of space for two months when she’d told him her plan to get them out, and the eagerness in her voice had shaken him to the core. It was all very simple. She would take a shuttlecraft and use it to fuel Voyager's escape, allowing her ship and crew to return to normal space while stranding her in the void. She had told it to him as if it meant nothing, as if losing her was just an unfortunate necessity. It was so absurd he’d first thought she was joking. It wasn’t until she asked if he was ready to lead the crew that he understood what she was really saying.

 

She was telling him to let her commit suicide.

 

He’d been too shocked to respond, the relief in her voice scaring him the most. It was as if she’d finally found an acceptable retribution for stranding them in the Delta Quadrant. This was the price she would pay, and she embraced it gladly.

 

He’d done the only thing he could think of. He’d told the crew on her. When she’d stepped onto the bridge announcing her plan, they’d all respectfully but firmly, refused to follow orders. To his immense relief, she’d listened, and in the end they’d managed to escape without her deluded plans for atonement. Though she was grateful for their loyalty and had thanked them for their insubordination, she’d only stayed on the bridge for a minute before relinquishing command to him, and he knew that she’d left to fight off her remaining demons.

 

For the first time, he wasn’t sure he trusted her to do it on her own.

 

He reached her quarters, unease pricking at him, and chimed three times before her refusal to answer led him to override the access code, and walk inside. The room was almost completely bathed in darkness, a faint ray of light from her bathroom, the only source of illumination. He could hear the shower running, and for a moment he contemplated just leaving her alone. Let her be and allow her to deal with whatever it was that was pulling her down on her own. But wasn’t that why they were in this mess to begin with? Because he, for once, hadn’t wanted to get involved? He shook his head, angry at himself, and ordered the lights on low. A broken wine glass was on the table, its contents dripping down onto the carpet. Her uniform jacket lay discarded on the floor.

 

“Kathryn?”

 

There was no reply.

 

“Kathryn?” he tried again and walked towards the bathroom. He tentatively peered around the doorframe, and looked inside.

 

She was sitting on the floor of her shower, fully clothed and dripping wet. Her arms were firmly clasped around her knees and she was shivering. Her head rested against the wall and her eyes never left his as he walked into the room. He was about to order the computer to turn the water off, but she stopped him before he could get that far, “Don’t.”   

 

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

 

“Showering?” she tried, a weak attempt at a joke, and received a small smile for her efforts.

 

“You’re soaked,” he offered, hoping she’d change her mind and let him turn the shower off. The water drummed furiously down on her and made him think of rainstorms on Trebus. He took a step closer. “Let me turn it off.”

 

“Leave it.”

 

Though her voice was quiet it made no room for discussion. Her eyes were still locked with his and he searched them for clues as to what she was thinking. It was never a good sign when he couldn’t find any. He broke the contact, looking at his feet and contemplated his next move. Thoughts of leaving her alone whispered at him again. Maybe that was what she wanted.

 

Or maybe that was what was easiest for him?

 

He cursed his lack of courage, and met her eyes again. He offered her another smile, but it quickly faltered as his own demons came at him from every angle. These past two months had been hard on him too. He wanted—no— he needed to be with her. If his heart got bruised in the process, then so be it. He moved to sit next to her before he could change his mind. He felt her eyes upon him as he slid down next to her, the lukewarm water soaking through his uniform in a matter of seconds.

 

 “Are you cold?” he finally asked. He knew it was an unnecessary question, but the silence was becoming stifling. She nodded, and almost seemed relieved to hear his voice again.

 

He ordered a change of temperature and a sharp intake of breath escaped her as the falling water became warmer, momentarily scalding her skin. He wondered if this was what she’d been like when her father and fiancée had died. He found he wished he’d known her all those years ago, and he wondered what her sister had done to force her out of her depression then. He put his arm around her, trying to keep her body from shivering.

 

“I don’t know how to get myself out of this,” she said quietly. “What you all did for me today? I almost felt disappointed. I wanted to…” She didn’t finish the sentence and he flinched at her meaning. “I have to get out of this. They need a captain, not… me.” 

 

“They love you, Kathryn. Don’t let yourself believe any different.” Kissing her temple he added, “We all love you.”

 

She moved closer to him and he tightened his grip on her. He stroked her wet hair and she grabbed at his leg, holding onto the material of his pants.

 

“I love you too,” she breathed into his chest.

 

He didn’t know if she meant him personally or all of them.

 

“There’s too much blood on my hands,” she whispered.

 

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the hand closest to him. He looked at her fingers, his own caressing each before he brushed his lips over one. His tongue darted out licking at the finger, then at another, his mouth closing around the tips, sucking gently. She made no move to stop him. 

 

“Is that better?” he asked as they slipped out of his mouth.

 

“Yes,” she managed.

 

Kissing the inside of her palm, he asked, “And this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He let go of her hand, tilting her head slightly.

 

“What about this?” His lips brushed against the corner of her eye, his tongue carefully licking away the water-drops. They tasted salty and he realised she was crying.

 

“Yes.”

 

“This?” His mouth met hers, gently touching her lips.  

 

She only nodded when he pulled away. She'd stopped shivering and her grip on his leg had loosened.

 

He looked at her for a beat, then moved to stand. Extending his hand, he helped her to her feet, and she didn’t protest when he finally ordered the shower off. He removed his wet jacket, throwing it in the recycling bin. Grabbing a towel from the shelf, he put it to her cheek, dabbing it dry. He then brought the towel to her hair, carefully squeezing the water out of it. Throwing the first towel in the same direction as the jacket, he grabbed two more. He gave her one, put his own on the rim of the sink, and started to undress. She looked at him, and for a fraction of a second he wondered if he’d gone too far. Putting her towel next to his, her hands went to the lining of her sopping pants, and she tugged at her tee. 

 

After a short minute he was dry and naked, the towel wrapped around his waist. He replicated himself a robe and watched as she put on her own, letting the towel, which had been wrapped around her, fall to the floor. She turned and met his eyes, waiting for his next move. Taking her hand in his, he led her to the bedroom. Flipping the covers, he gestured for her to get in. She did and he moved over to the opposite side, joining her. Shuffling close, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his chest.

 

“Sleep,” he said gently, stroking her hair again.

 

She placed a kiss on his cheek before resting her head in the crook of his neck. It didn’t take long before her breathing slowed and her body became heavy.

 

He, on the other hand, spent the entire night awake.

Fin

 

Chapter End Notes:
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