AVE CAESAR! MORITURI TE SALUTANT!

This is an episode addition for Unimatrix One; the first part of a series of episode additions for the final season.

Warm, strong ... how long had it been since she last held his hand? The sickbay didn't count - the Doctor might dispute that, but Kathryn had never considered physical touch to be anything other than therapeutic in that environment.

Sterile environments ... her mind wandered a little, barely taking in what Chakotay was saying - unsure what she had said, in fact. Sterile environments. No, she was't going to think about that. Not now. Two minutes - and his eyes. She was not going to think about the Borg. Not now. Time enough for that in a moment.

New Earth? Perhaps. His thumb rubbing softly against hers - he was doing that again, now. The rough lap of his skin against hers; what did he do to get those callouses? Not boxing, surely? On New Earth it had been woodwork; splinters and sanding and ... why now? What did he do with his hands now? Crawling through Jeffries Tubes ... working ... she ought to ask. She would remember to ask. Later.

- I don't want to let go -

The thought stole through her mind, ripples edging outwards in its wake, pushing the fear and trepidation in front. Too much feeling centred on that touch - that touch ...

The loss of warmth; the transfer of strength. The contact she least wanted to end slipped from her fingers, knowing what she needed to do, what she needed to be. But his eyes - those were harder to leave. So much harder to leave.

In the end, the lift doors made the decision for her. Passive - maybe the last time passive would be a safe option for her. Brown eyes; warm melting chocolate shot through with unexpected blue and green. A memory now. One to be treasured, to be held and savoured within her. A part of her, a mark of her individuality.

Time passes; individuality suffers and is regained. The memories bolster that individuality, a bridge between the now and the then, crossing the horrors that lie, real and imagined, in the abyss of mortality.

Coffee, and a surprisingly comfortable biobed, were an improvement but she still had to deal with the sterility of the environment. Kathryn concentrated on the coffee instead, always the best option. She watched the steam rise gently, entwining in a dance and mingling with the imperceptible flow of air through the ship. Dark, swirling, still swirling as she gazed into the cup - as though all the answers to every question lay in there. All that came to mind were a pair of eyes; soft, so soft. Warmth shot through her, her hand tingling slightly where they had held each other.

Astonishing, how a simple touch can feel like the closest embrace.

The face now, chiselled more than in earlier years. Time passes; not always kind. But this ... here, time had evolved into beauty. A harder beauty, like the weathering of stone, of wood; that steel-grey of cedar, shatteringly beautiful in a way that the softer red of youth could never be. Can a man be beautiful? She wondered about that. Handsome was too tame, not enough. Too superficial for something that was so much more than the surface.

The touch. Always it came back to the touch. Kathryn let the PADD drop, unnoticed, to her side. Reports could wait right now; she wasn't on duty, and she'd read all she really needed to. Time to think about it? Perhaps - and more than time, when the brush of fingers and the clench of hearts could occupy so much of her mind. Isolation - in mind and body - left an impact that hurt, physically and emotionally.

Kathryn's thoughts paused, faltering over that. Emotional hurt. Was that all that this was? Because if it was, better stopped now. He deserved more than that, so much more than to be a lifeline clung to in pain and fear of isolation. If he was even prepared to be that lifeline, in any closer sense. Friendship, hard fought for and hard won, couldn't be thrown away on a whim and in pursuit of a temporary connection with her own humanity.

- I love him too much for that -

A lifeline. Kathryn tipped her head back, rubbing the base of her skull absently against the headrest on the bed. Love. Friendship. All tangled up in a complex tangle of a relationship that had tangoed and tiptoed its way through the last seven years. A complex mess that she would now do nothing to diminish or destroy; not unless she wanted to diminish or destroy herself. Each link gathered them closer; no matter how hard they tried to pull apart eventually they found themselves bound closer as the tangle knotted. There had been a few times when she'd thought perhaps that the pull had the edge of a knife, threatening to cut through and sever the relationship but, ultimately, they had survived professional and personal disagreements and disappointments - the tangle tested and stretched but ultimately holding.

And now? And now ... the closest relationship she'd ever had; the most important relationship she'd ever had. Those things she would admit, freely, should anyone ask. He was someone whose company she needed more than her own; could bear more than her own, at times. He completed her and - she hoped - she completed him. More than that? He'd suggested, once, that there could be more. Time passes; too quickly for the suggestion to become reality.

A tangle again; now it was both more and less than it could be. More now than it could have been, had the suggestion had time to unfold into reality. Those new links would have dictated other paths. If New Earth had been all that it could have been, would they have been so close now? Physical closeness didn't always bring the closeness that they had now; the tension that flickered - and flared - between them fed an intimacy far beyond the physical.

Maybe ... maybe it was something they had needed. She had needed. Maybe both had needed; readiness wasn't something measured by stages - wasn't something that could even be measured by anything but time and then only after the fact. Perhaps she was just ready now.

But why now? Was it just emotional hurt? Kathryn brought herself back to the question at hand, looking at the matter in as analytical a manner as possible. Both of them deserved better than for her to make any sort of change on the basis of trauma; if comfort was all she needed, she would get it from him without any change.

Kathryn sat up again, sipping slowly at the cup. Hot, bitter, currents of taste on her tongue; she could feel the warmth spreading. Odd how different warmth could be - physical from emotional. One word - two sensations. The touch of his glance, the touch of his hand: true warmth, a sensation that pulled on her again and again, rising from memory and enveloping her at her leisure. Truly touching her. She shook her head at the notion, dispelling it rather than denying it.

The lights were low; she supposed B'Elanna and Tuvok were asleep - the quiet hush of the ship's systems was just enough to mask the sounds of breathing. 2am; the quiet time. A time to die; when the body was at its lowest ebb - even here, in the artificiality of their environment, the circadian rythms continued to circle and pull them through the days and nights.

A time to die. A time to live. She'd died to herself a long time ago, and struggled into life again through him - not that he necessarily knew it. A thousand deaths and rebirths; too much to cope with, then the realisation that she didn't always need to cope with it. Some things just couldn't be coped with - all she could do would be to survive them. All that was needed was to survive, and to live. To go on.

- I want to go on. With him -

Kathryn sighed softly; how many times had she thought about this? It seemed the constant refrain to her thoughts each time something happened; each time one of them was injured, or out of contact - literally or metaphorically. Perhaps that's all it was, a reaction to the times. Time to die. Time to live. Time to think about her relationships.

Perhaps. But did that necessarily make it any less valid? Lacking the strength to push thoughts aside didn't need to mean that those thoughts were wrong, shouldn't be examined.

A soft hush distracted Kathryn momentarily; a door opened close by, spilling the brighter lights of the corridor into the room for a moment. The lights were masked by the entry of the object of her thoughts; her affections. Chakotay walked quietly over to her, glancing towards B'Elanna and Tuvok as he approached.

"Hey," he murmured. "Are you ready to leave?" Kathryn looked at him, slightly confused - although more than happy to leave the confines of sickbay.

"It's 2 in the morning?" She didn't think she'd mistaken the time, but asked anyway.

"I know, I'm sorry ... oh. The doctor didn't tell you." Chakotay smiled. "I suppose I did tell him I wasn't sure when I'd be able to get here. He must have thought it was better to let you rest than have you wondering where I was. He's released you to your quarters and my care for 24 hours - although he was eloquent with admiration for your reticence. Apparently you've only threatened him three times so far ..." Chakotay's voice tailed off, amusement colouring his tone as he smiled at Kathryn.

"I can leave?" Kathryn focussed on the important part of his words. "Now?"

"Yes, now. And it would have been earlier, but we've been trying to fix some of the damage to the systems - I got roped in, sorry."

Kathryn waved away his apologies and swung her legs off the bed. Her head swam, and the floor seemed a long way away suddenly. She hesitated, then found herself swept up in Chakotay's arms - blanket, coffee cup and all.

"This might be easiest - you're released from sickbay, not 100% with it. And no," he added, before she could protest, "there's no-one around. It is 2 in the morning, as you said. No-one's going to see us."

Kathryn thought about arguing the point, then decided against it. He was right; there would be few people walking the corridors at this hour of night, even with the repair work going on. Besides, much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't sure she could walk to her quarters right now anyway.

Chakotay walked to the Doctor's office, shifting Kathryn slightly in his arms as he went until she was settled. She'd lost weight again; or he'd grown stronger. Either way, it wasn't taking any appreciable effort on his part, she thought. At the door of the office, Chakotay paused and asked the computer for the Doctor.

The hologram shimmered into existence, and looked at them. He appeared to bite back a comment, to Kathryn's relief, and nodded. "Good; call me if you need anything or if she has any problems. I don't expect there to be any but you never know. And no more coffee - she's had quite enough. Sleep would be good, but might be too much to ask for" he added, sarcastically.

Chakotay nodded, and the hologram disappeared again. Chakotay smiled down at Kathryn, turning back to the main doors. "Come on, let's go before he changes his mind - and I don't mean about the coffee."

The walk back to her quarters was quiet; the ship hummed around them and Chakotay seemed content to let that be all the sound they needed. Kathryn closed her eyes as they waited for the 'lift; she was warm and comfortable - two sensations she'd thought she might never experience again. She let her head rest on his shoulder, tucked against his neck. Comfortable ... so comfortable; half-asleep now, she let the sensation wash over her.

The lift doors opened; the subtle shift and play of Chakotay's muscles as he walked in woke Kathryn a little. She opened her eyes. Warmth and comfort became more translucent, allowing through the deeper acknowledgement of his presence that surfaced from within her. Always surfaced from within at his touch, at his presence. The scent of him, dark and heady, teased her. She shivered and found herself caught more closely still.

"Cold?" he asked, settling her in his arms again.

"No," she murmured, "just tired." He settled, leaning back against the wall of the lift, and called for their deck. The lift eased away, a smooth movement shifting them through the ship. Kathryn let her eyes drift closed again, lulled by the rhythm and hum. She wondered what Chakotay was thinking - although she suspected he wasn't thinking of anything much except getting to sleep at this hour of the morning. Ship's morning ... ship's night ... both equally artificial, set to the rotation of a planet tens of thousands of light years away. Far more efficient not to bother with the distinction; but that inefficiency was what mattered more than anything. Kathryn shivered a little again, recalling the permanent half-light of the Borg. Again, she was caught a little closer as he felt her shiver. Kathryn smiled tiredly to herself; some things were a universal constant and to be treasured as such. Although she wasn't quite sure that Chakotay would appreciate being described as a universal constant.

The lift stopped, the doors opening onto a deserted corridor, just as Chakotay had promised it would be. He stepped out and a few short paces brought them to her door.

"Can you get the door?" he asked. "My hands are a little full."

There was a definite smile in that voice, mused Kathryn. Then his request registered, and she realised he was waiting for her to key in her code. She punched it in - her usual combination of stardate, a name, and a letter. Long ago, tired of trying to think up new distinct personal codes each time the system demanded them, she had come up with a system that ensured some degree of difficulty in guessing but was easy enough to remember; she settled on a formula that combined the first three digits of the stardate with one of four different names. The names were easy enough to guess - Einstein, T'vrel, Kantor and Hawking - but adding the stardate and letter made the result an alphanumeric that wouldn't be readily stumbled across by the curious.

The door hissed open with a sibilance that cut through the quiet hum of a starship at high warp. Light from the corridor spilt into the room beyond, mingling with the soft darkness of the starlit quarters. Chakotay stepped inside the room, far enough to allow the door to shut, and stood still for a moment. He watched Kathryn fighting sleep, a soft smile on his face that she would never misinterpret; tenderness, and an affection beyond mere friendship. Kathryn's eyes were drifting shut but, nonetheless, she forced them open and looked up at Chakotay. An answering smile, and then a nod downwards.

"I'd like to try that standing thing again" she said, laughter in her voice. She was tired enough to qualify as punch-drunk, she thought. Any time she started to find a circuituous way to say something, she had to be tired. And heaven only knew, she'd been beyond tired more often in the last six or so years than anyone had a right to be in this lifetime. Usually she managed to be alone so that only her thoughts heard the rambling circumlocution. Chakotay had been on the receiving end often enough not to be surprised by it now, though.

He simply smiled a little wryly, acknowledging her request, and lowered her slowly to the floor. Kathryn decided that vertical was a little less painful than it had been in sickbay but still not something she was willing to attempt on her own; the arm she'd had wrapped around Chakotay's neck for stability as he carried her slid to his waist as she found her feet. She leaned into him, for the comfort as well as the physical support. There was something reassuingly solid about the man; emotionally as well as physically. Not for the first time, Kathryn wondered where he found his emotional support - he acted as unofficial counsellor to most of the crew, regardless of their origin. Who counselled the counsellor? She wondered where she'd heard that quote before, then wondered if it even was a quote. Then decided she was too tired to care whether it was or not.

Kathryn let her mind go blank, leaving the tired thoughts to chase themselves away, and concentrated instead on the rise and fall of Chakotay's chest as she leant against him. The soft thud of his heartbeat against her ear was a reassurance that she hadn't realised how badly she needed. Her eyes drifted closed again; she'd lost count of the number of times she'd been on the verge of sleep this evening. Eyes shut, letting Chakotay's warmth spread through her, she felt his arms close around her. They'd hugged before, and the thought that maybe these days it was she that counselled him, albeit perhaps unwittingly, stole through her. She wasn't sure when it was that they had started to exchange hugs; too many hostile races, too many simply bad days. A give and take of a short embrace to let the pain and tension slide away; whenever it was, she was absurdly grateful that their friendship had evolved to the point that they could freely comfort each other. The tension was still there, another knot in the tangle, but these days they were so used to it that it became another comfort. Albeit one she tried not to take for granted.

Kathryn yawned and sighed, a soft snuffle against Chakotay's uniform. She felt his hand stroking her hair as he held her to him. A comfort; no words, no questions, just an acceptance that she needed to be held. She wondered whether he knew that she needed to be held by him, not just held. Maybe she should tell him.

Kathryn let the thought percolate slowly; she should tell him. That would mean having to move, no matter that it was in the smallest way. Movement. She paused. Movement. Oh yes, she remembered now, that involved doing something. Did she have to? Then she laughed, although all that Chakotay heard was another soft snuffle. She was tired, no doubt about it. That ludicrous chain of thought only proved it. Tired enough to tell him, to open that particular little box of tricks normally tucked away beneath their friendship. Idly, she wondered how many of the crew had bet on 'near-death experience' as the trigger for this. How many of the crew still bet? Or had that particular pool closed, in an error of misinterpretation?

For a moment, she thought about resisting the pull. To wait for a moment less banal, less predictable. In the end, what did it matter? Life was complicated enough to sometimes feel like a second- or third-rate holonovel; she certainly felt badly-written at times. This was ... it was too important to worry about leaving it for a suitably dramatic and unpredicatable moment. She sighed. Less thought, more action. Just do it. Great, now she sounded like a parody of herself.

She laughed again and this time Chakotay heard her.

"Hmm?" The questioning murmur rumbled through her and she shivered suddenly, fire shooting down her spine at the sensation. She pulled her head lazily back to look up at him. A rush of tenderness washed through her, muting the fire, at the sight. The look of contentment on his face soothed and pulled at the same time. His eyes, closed at first, blinked slowly open as he felt her move. Dark, very dark, in this starlight that they stood in. He smiled, and Kathryn forgot what she had planned to say as she let herself fall into the feelings he stirred.

"Hmm?" he asked again. Kathryn blinked, breathed in, and released the breath on a sigh. Another soft exhalation, never once taking her eyes from his.

"I need you to hold me," she said.

"Always. I'll always hold you, Kathryn." The quiet affirmation made her smile.

"Take me to bed." She waited for his reaction, and smiled a little more widely as she watched him blink, then stare. "Take me to bed. To sleep; I'm not awake enough to do anything else. The rest ... well, the rest we'll discuss tomorrow. And we will discuss it, Chakotay."

Kathryn hoped the promise would be reassurance enough; Chakotay seemed frozen and for a moment she wondered whether she'd misinterpreted their relationship or, at least, the potential in it. She needed to know.

"Unless I'm presuming too much?" The slightly shaky question clearly brought Chakotay out of whatever trance he'd frozen in and he shook his head.

"No," his voice broke and he cleared his throat to try again. "No, no, I don't think you're presuming too much. Unless I'm presuming too much?"

Kathryn wondered whether he'd deliberately used her own words, and the mental image of them circling verbally stole through her mind. She smiled again, and shook her head. "No, neither of us are, I think." Chakotay's eyes closed for a moment, and Kathryn felt herself pulled closely against him. She felt him shudder, then felt a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you." Quietly spoken, but a wealth of emotion in his voice. Kathryn hugged him tightly.

"Let's go to bed." This time, he nodded without hesitation. Moving meant disentangling themselves, although Kathryn kept this to a minimum. In truth, she still felt decidedly wobbly - although this might not have been entirely to do with the after-effects of assimilation and de-assimilation. With Chakotay's arm wrapped across her shoulders and hers tight around his waist, they moved slowly towards the bedroom.

Kathryn concentrated on keep going, keeping upright. Drawing strength from the weight of his arm around her, she steadied herself. The room was full of shadows, the everyday magnified and disguised by the starlight that flooded in from the windows. The room seemed both strange and familiar; a new light on an old situation.

Enough to see by, not enough to recognise everything.

The bedroom; more shadows. They stopped just inside the door; Chakotay looked down at her.

"Alright?" he asked softly. Kathryn nodded.

"It just all seems a little ... different. Not quite the same, somehow."

"Some things don't change, Kathryn." She looked at him and smiled. Some things never did change; no matter how different they looked, the fundamentals rang true through not matter what the time and place.

"Thank you." Kathryn reluctantly let go of Chakotay, to sit on the side of the bed. The mattress was soft, and she revised her opinion of the sickbay biobeds. Their comfort now seemed an illusion, or simply a comparison to the discomfort of implants. She dropped her head back, eyes closing, and stretched slightly. Her elbows cracked, suddenly loud in the silence and Kathryn chuckled. "I'm getting old, Chakotay."

"I ..." Chakotay cleared his throat and tried again. "I wouldn't say that." His voice sounded a little strained; Kathryn opened her eyes to find his gaze fixed on her. Starlight ... this time reflected in his eyes. Kathryn slowly began to remove the gown she still wore; not the most glamourous or seductive of clothes, but Chakotay didn't seem to need that encouragement.

Abruptly Kathryn yawned, and laughed as she was caught by surprise. "Chakotay, I'm tired and I'd better not make suggestions I can't follow through on. Come to bed, let's sleep." Chakotay grinned; her sudden yawn had broken the tension between them and he visibly relaxed even as Kathryn continued to unbutton the gown. She let it pool around her and reached under the covers for the nightdress she'd left there some days ago. The silk was cool to the touch, gliding over her skin. The caress of the fabric felt new again, a gentle contrast to the armour and scratchy sickbay gowns.

Kathryn stretched again, trying to stay awake long enough to actually get into bed. She pulled the gown away and dropped it on the floor. Neatness was irrelevant. She chuckled again, then turned as she heard Chakotay's query from behind her.

"What's so funny?"

He had stripped off his uniform, leaving only boxer shorts. Kathryn swallowed, then smiled at him. "I was just thinking that neatness was irrelevant, and realised that the thought didn't bother me. I must be doing better than I thought I was. Earlier, anything that sounded like the Borg was almost painful."

Chakotay laughed, although his tone was serious. "Good. I'm glad." For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Kathryn wondered whether she was waiting for him to move, or whether he was waiting for her to move, or whether ... no, she was just looking at him. Skin burnished gold even in the nights twilight, and muscles crisply defined; she idly noted that boxing was clearly an effective workout. Beautiful; her thoughts of a few days ago came back to her. A hard-won beauty, that of age, for all that he wouldn't necessarily thank her for thinking it. But beautiful he was, unlike the unfinished youths that word was so often applied to. Features, lines, muscles, all thrown into a sharp relief by the light from the windows over the bed; Kathryn felt arousal fight with tiredness within her and shuddered. The movement was enough to break the spell they had woven around themselves, and Chakotay moved to sit on the bed.

"I assume that's the side you're comfortable with?" he asked, gesturing to where Kathryn sat. "Or would you prefer this side?"

"This is fine, is that alright with you?" Kathryn wondered when they would stop being quite so polite; maybe it would take time. Each shift in this relationship had taken time to evolve, no reason why this should be any different. Chakotay nodded and lay back on the bed; perhaps it wouldn't take that long. Kathryn smiled and arranged herself beside him, wondering how close he'd be comfortable with. She quickly had an answer as Chakotay slipped an arm under her shoulders and pulled her to him.

"We'll end up this way anyway," he said confidentally, "we may as well start off comfortable as well." Kathryn smiled, and curled up against him; her head on his shoulder, an arm across his stomach and a leg drawn up against his. A soft thrum unfurled through her at the close contact, at the heat of his skin against hers. Suddenly she regretted the nightdress and, before she had time to fully think through her actions, sat up and pulled it over her head before lying down again. The sudden movement had her head swimming; or perhaps it wasn't just the movement. Chakotay had started when she moved, but now seemed frozen.

"Kathryn," his voice rasped, "this is not a good way to persuade me to sleep." Kathryn just curled back against him; the warmth she sought unfurled again, stronger now there was nothing betwween them. She could feel him breathing more rapidly now, his heartbeat suddenly staccato. She held herself still, though, sleep winning rapidly over arousal, and fell asleep as the thud of his heartbeat under her slowed to a steady rythm.

She woke slowly, rising through layers of dreams to the sensation of warmth; and a particular warmth that was more than mere temperature. She lay curled next to Chakotay still, held tightly to him by his arm wrapped around her shoulders. His hand lay on her arm, his thumb rubbing there with a gentle touch; more like the breath of his skin against hers. His shoulder made a good pillow, she decided drowsely; her arm across his chest rose and fell with each breath. He was still breathing with the slow cadence of sleep, and Kathryn found herself almost holding her breath, careful not to wake him. She wouldn't move; didn't want to move, as she catalogued the touch of their bodies.

Her leg was still draped across his; she'd slept unusually quietly, clearly. Most nights she could be guaranteed to wake wrapped in sheets turned upside down and creased in every direction. Perhaps regeneration wasn't as effective as Seven seemed to think, if Kathryn had slept so deeply that she hadn't stirred. Or perhaps it was the company. The company that Kathryn suspected was starting to wake; a subtle change in his breathing, nothing more.

Kathryn listened to the changes in breathing and heart rate; he was definitely waking. The soft brush of his thumb on her arm stilled.

Kathryn raised her head slowly to see Chakotay looking at her; his face was carefully neutral, apparently waiting for her reaction to their closeness. At least part of his reaction had been clear to Kathryn for some time, a comforting thrill at the touch of his evident arousal. She smiled sleepily at him.

"Hello," she murmured.

"Hello yourself." The smile seemed to have reassured him; a little more emotion, still not easily defined, washed across his face. Kathryn wished there was some way to just let him know how she felt. Words couldn't possibly be enough, not after all this time. A mind meld would do it but somehow, just somehow, she didn't think she'd be going to Tuvok with that particular request.

"Hmm?" The soft interrogative made Kathryn realise she was grinning; the grin warmed again to a smile.

"What was I thinking about?" She checked to make sure she'd interpreted the sound correctly; Chakotay nodded. Whatever his dreams had been, they had clearly been good; soft traces of pleasure still echoed through his half-awake eyes. "I was thinking about ..." Kathryn's voiced trailed off as she wondered whether she should just tell him. As promised last night, they needed to talk about this and perhaps this was as good a way in as any other. She took a deep breath and was momentarily distracted at the gentle friction of her breasts against Chakotay. A little too much pleasure ... was there such a thing? She smiled again as her thoughts wandered and she debated how much deep breathing she could get away with before Chakotay thought she was hyperventilating. She needed coffee, she was definitely getting a little silly. Coffee: that was an appealing though ... but the idea of moving away from Chakotay was far less appealing.

"I was thinking about Tuvok." A short phrase, and she almost laughed at Chakotay's astonishment. "No, no, no - not like that. Just thinking that what we really need to do is mindmeld; I'm not sure I have the words to tell you what you mean to me, why I've ... I've changed my mind. I ..." Kathryn broke off again, searching for the right phrase.

"I love you."

Sometimes the obvious route was the best one. Kathryn abruptly found herself pinned under Chakotay, lost in a kiss so deep that she'd forgotten how it started. Eyes closed, all she could feel was the internal and external pressure of arousal; in very short moments her body passed from a quiet hum, buzzing where she and Chakotay touched, to a raging desperation to feel him inside her. That desperation seemed matched by Chakotay as he rapidly worked to free her of the brief underwear that was all she wore; desperation that expressed itself in tearing fabric as he abandoned the subtle approach.

Kathryn exhaled sharply at his touch, pressing against her; she reached between them to centre him, to guide him in to her. Her fingers wrapped around his erection; the study in contrasts had fascinated her for years, that a man could be this hard and yet the skin covering that pressure was soft and slick as silk. Smooth, so ....

"Aaaahhhhh ..."

Another sharp exhalation, half-pain and half-anticipation; a quick shift and Chakotay had slid into her. Kathryn arched under him, the touch and pressure ricocheting through her again; sparking each erogenous zone until she was on fire and writhing against him. She pushed upwards, completing the connection until she could feel him buried within her and until she could feel nothing else. Her surroundings vanished as her awareness of them narrowed to this place, this time; the friction and play of skin on skin, the gasps; quieter, then sharper, softer, sharpened again almost to a cry as Chakotay buried his face in her neck and Kathryn heard her name in a guttural moan.

One more shift against him; another shift back as he pressed into her. Then the fire flared and they lost all pretense at control. A sudden flurry of movement, his and hers, and Kathryn cried out; the tension within her snapped and recoiled and she felt ... too much to describe, heat and pleasure and Chakotay and fire and Chakotay and the wet warmth as he came within her and the sharp tingling of nerves and ... everything. She felt everything, all at once and throughout her. Then a moment's utter peace as her world rearranged itself.

Kathryn opened her eyes, struggling slightly to regain her breath and feeling Chakotay clearly trying to do the same thing. She still lay under him; he was still buried within her. As Chakotay shifted, to move away, Kathryn stopped him. "Not yet, stay. I want you to stay with me."

Chakotay looked up at her, lifting his head from her shoulder. "Are you sure?" Kathryn nodded. He stilled for a moment, then nodded. Holding her closely, he rolled them both over so that she lay on him instead. The swift turn had carried them together so that he was still held within her, and Kathryn settled herself a little more firmly over him. She pushed up, her hands on his chest, to sit straddling him.

"I love you."

His time to say it, now, and Kathryn blinked at the rush of emotion.

"Thank you; I had hoped you did ..."

She found herself being kissed again; Chakotay had one hand buried in her hair at the nape of her neck, the other pushed him up off the bed. This time there was time to savour the contact; the firm, slightly cool, erotic touch of his lips on hers. Just brushing, then an unspoken request as the pressure increased and his mouth opened slightly; Kathryn followed suit and felt the caress of his tongue against her lips and into her mouth. Cool lips, warm breath and tongue, and a myriad of sensations sparkling through her again. A soft gasp; hers or his, she didn't know. They drew apart slowly and Kathryn saw the sensations sparkle in his eyes as well.

"I don't want to take you for granted; I thought ... several times, I thought you'd moved on, found ... found someone else." It hurt to say, but she needed to let him know, to make sure that she hadn't thought that he had been dangled like an abandoned marionette waiting for her to possess him.

"I never moved on," came the quiet reply. The unspoken acknowledgement that he had tried to was there, but to try to deny it would be pointless. Kathryn hoped he wouldn't say more; better to leave it acknowledged and in the past than to drag it out for examination. Chakotay must have agreed, watching her without saying anything for a few moments and, when he did speak, his thoughts had clearly taken another path."

"Why now?" he asked, still holding her closely; still held closely within her.

"Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant," murmured Kathryn. Chakotay seemed a little puzzled by the reply, and she smiled wryly. "Hail Caesar, we who are about to die salute you. It's"

"Latin, I know. The traditional acknowledgement of Caesar by the gladiators. I'm just not quite sure I see the connection ... or do you think we're going into battle against each other?" Chakotay was definitely puzzled.

"No. No, I don't. It's what I thought the other day, just before we left to go ... to go and be assimilated." Kathryn paused, but this time Chakotay waited, only his eyes prompting her to continue. "I don't want you to think that this is just a ... oh, you know ... near-death thing. I'm not confusing gratitude that I survived with my feelings for you."

Chakotay put a finger against her lips. "I don't think that; it's been almost a week since we got you back and you've been awake for most of it. That's more than enough time for you to talk your way out of it if it were only that. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done that." He smiled ruefully ; Kathryn worried at her lower lip, kissing his finger as she did so.

She nodded; Chakotay lowered his hand, moving to trace the areas of reddened skin where the Doctor had removed implants. The dermal regenerator could only do so much. Some things still needed time to heal.

"The Latin ..." Kathryn left out a soft breath, sighing as Chakotay's exploration of her body drew his thumb over a nipple. "Oh god, that feels good." Chakotay grinned up at her, circling his thumb over the aureole and drawing into the circle. Kathryn tried to refocus on what she was saying.

"Go on," he encouraged her, letting his hand drop to her hip. That was marginally less distracting, and Kathryn gathered her thoughts together again.

"It's something that I thought - when you made that ridiculous comment about cleaning the carpets. Somehow, just then, it all seemed ridiculous. Ridiculous that we should even be in the Delta Quadrant; ridiculous to think we had any real hope against the Borg. And ridiculous that I should be still looking for safety nets to hold me. That's the thought that stayed with me; about to die, I just finally acknowledged that I love you. That the protocols weren't written for this scenario; that those protocols don't even really exist. That I've been in love with you for almost as many years as I've been captain of this ship," Chakotay's hand tightened on her hip, "and that's never interfered with my ability to command. That what has interefered has been that I never told you."

"And a week in sickbay, getting better, hasn't changed your mind about telling me? Obviously not." Chakotay answered his own question with a smile.

"I was just worried that you didn't still feel the same way, but the only way to find out was to let you know. It was ... a calculated risk, but I've just survived the Borg. And that alone reinforced it; we make our own rules here. It was ... it was the realisation that the three of us had come through assimilation with only Voyager for backup. Picard needed half of StarFleet Medical to recover when he was assimilated; a different situation, but the essentials weren't that different. You ... well, you still seemed to care. I thought that, this time, all I needed to do was trust you. Trust you to care enough either way that I wouldn't feel an idiot if I'd misread you."

"You didn't misread me. I love you." The confident affirmation warmed Kathryn, and she shivered a little in reaction. Chakotay sat up against her and pulled her into another deep kiss; they held each other, wrapped around each other as Kathryn leant into the solidity of his body, her arms around his back. Almost drugged with the intensity of the kiss and the conversation, emotion and trust spilt and shared in the early morning in a darkened room lit only by starlight, Kathryn held on to Chakotay as her centre, her anchor in their rearranged relationship.

One kiss, one more kiss, and then Chakotay's touch moved down as he traced her jawline in small feathering kisses. His hand smoothed down her back, following the indentations of her spine. He lay back slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. Kathryn felt their arousal building again, lazily now, like the spiralling steam from coffee. Languid, unhurried. They had no duty shift to race to this morning, nothing to hurry them or summon them. Time; a gift.

She touched Chakotay's temple, passing over the tattoo there, then mapped his profile in the starlight wth her fingers. She followed the lines of the shadows on his face, his chest. Warm, supple skin. Always warm. Her hand traced down to where they were still joined, fingers tangling in the arrow of dark hair that flared there. Kathryn paused for a moment, then looked up at Chakotay. He had held remarkably still for her exploration, and met her gaze with a suffused heat in his eyes.

"What did you do with your boxer shorts?" asked Kathryn, distractedly. She knew he'd been wearing shorts earlier, but had no recollection of him removing them. Chakotay laughed. "Would you believe it's an old Indian trick?" Kathryn laughed with him.

"No. But I can see that's useful ... in some circumstances." She grinned at him, at the absurdity of the conversation, and revelling in the closeness between them that allowed them to this place, to this time. She moved slightly, easing muscles barely recovered from assimilation and certainly unused to this range of activity. The movement opened up a few possibilities as she felt Chakotay swell inside her in response; a pulsing push and pressure against her. "Again?" she asked.

"You inspire me," came the reply, followed by a swift inhalation as Kathryn began to move slowly and deliberatly, circling her hips. His gasp was a sound she already treasured. She concentrated on his reactions, shifting slowly on him and caressing him. Her hands drew lazy patterns on his skin, noting each point that raised another gasp or an answering pulse within her. Chakotay let her explore for a while then, as Kathryn teased his nipples to a stubborn point, began to mimic her actions. His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they stood firm against his touch.

Kathryn let her head drop back, sitting up and drawing him with her. His mouth ... oh god, his mouth, hot and damp against her breast. His lips slightly cooler, and the play of temperatures was astonishing. Kathryn wondered whether he knew just how exquisite it felt. The slow scrape of his teeth against her nipple shot through her, and suddenly she couldn't think. Could only feel. The lazy glide into arousal that she'd been enjoying gave way to a incandescent desire as each brush of his tongue on her breast made her contract around him; muscles long unused pulled taut, encircling his erection and pulsing with his rhythm. Kathryn arched again, a hand holding Chakotay to her - although she was vaguely aware of the fact that he didn't seem enclined to go anywhere else.

Now! And Kathryn exploded in climax again, an abrupt spiral and release triggered by the sudden touch of Chakotay's thumb against her, testing the nub just above where they were joined.

Kathryn focussed slowly, the fog of fulfilled arousal dispersing slowly, to realise that Chakotay was still buried, hard, inside her. He smiled.

"Better?" She could only nod. The feel of him still inside her was intoxicating; a demanding tension that ... oh, god, that felt good. Chakotay pushed upwards; the barest movement but enough to ripple aftershocks through her.

"Uhhh" A moan; probably hers but, at this point, Kathryn really didn't care. Then suddenly she did care as she found herself back on the bed, and Chakotay kneeling between her legs. "Uhh .... no." She protested; the aftershocks and pleasure of having him buried inside her turned abruptly to a tense ache. She reached for him, and almost whimpered as he drew back.

"Hush, and let me love you," came the admonition. Kathryn vaguely recognised the quote, but all thought fled at the touch of his tongue against her. How the hell did he know just ... oh god. No fumbling, no awkward exploration. His tongue was ... oh, dear god. Kathryn thrust against Chakotay's mouth with helpless instinct. A suckling heat against her clitoris, the slow slide of one ... two ... she wasn't sure ... his fingers within her. His free hand held her hips, slowing her wilder thrusts against him as she bucked against him with each slide and parry of his tongue, his lips ... his teeth, his tongue again and ... and Kathryn was now moaning his name almost continuously.

Another swift, disorienting, move and ... aaahhhh ... he was buried inside her again, the welcome weight of him covering her once more. Hot, hard, the welcome friction of his erection against her slick folds and pressure as he rubbed against her was too much again. An exquisite moment and ... she was flying, had to be flying ... gods, the release was beyond anything she'd felt before. This time ... ohhh ... this time, he was coming too. Finally ... the sweet pleasure of a man out of control, the sharp helpless thrust followed by a spreading warmth inside. The perfection of her name groaned in release.

"I love you." And it didn't matter who said it; it held true for both of them.

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