Title: Coping
Rating: T
Author: Singing Violin
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Summary: Chakotay suspects something terrible has happened to the captain, and he wants to help, but when he tries, he only makes things worse. Very dark, but not graphic.
Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters and universe are not mine.
Author's Note (Chapter 14): Sorry for the delay on this one. There was some relevant news that caught my attention, and which I did not want to interfere destructively with the story. Hopefully I managed. This is the final chapter of this work - woohoo! I'm finally done. And thank you to Lia Harkness for all her feedback and enthusiasm through the process of writing this. She has not seen the final draft of this chapter, so all errors are mine. Also thank you to all of you other supporters who pm'd, faved, followed, and reviewed along the way!

=/\=

She didn't answer explicitly, but the startled look in on her face all but confirmed his assessment.

"Who was he, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked softly, ducking his head slightly as he studied her reaction.

She shook her head and leaned forward in preparation to rise. "I should go."

He reached towards her automatically, but the instant fear in her eyes stayed his hand mid-approach. "Please stay," he begged her, pulling himself back. "You don't have to answer that. I just thought..." He had no idea how to explain himself; in fact, he wasn't even sure what he had been thinking.

She surprised him by completing his thought for him, sitting back and folding her hands in her lap deliberately. "That you could summon your inner 'angry warrior' and dole out some vigilante justice?" she supplied. "Beat him up, perhaps? Or if you couldn't get at him, announce to the world what he had done, hoping you could ruin his reputation? Assuming you even had the right person, what good would that do? Even if the story were believed, you'd be airing my dirty laundry. I'd like to think you have more respect for my privacy than that."

Burn, he thought as her reprimand stunned him into silence. She continued angrily, "And what if he fought back, told his side of the story?" He noticed her hands clenching into fists above her thighs. "Would you continue to fight for me against him, be my champion whether I wanted you to or not? Or worse, what if he couldn't fight back, because he was tens of thousands of light years away, or perhaps no longer with us at all? Maybe that's how you did things in the Maquis, but in Starfleet we ensure that people are innocent until proven guilty, and do not punish them for crimes alleged via hearsay."

He wanted to cry, and finally he had words, which he forced himself to choke out, his voice cracking. "But you've been hurt. You're suffering. Surely that's got to count for something."

"Just because I'm having issues doesn't mean anyone else is responsible for them," she pointed out. "I'm a grown woman. I can take responsibility for my own actions. Besides, in every story involving more than one person, there are at least two different points of view. Which makes it especially important to remember that truth can be subjective and two wrongs do not make a right. We've known this for centuries. Perhaps millennia. I'd like to think that we've mastered it by now. Even if someone did something deliberately, punishing them doesn't erase the past."

Now he had something to work with. "They punished the Maquis that got caught. It was supposed to serve as a deterrent."

She snorted. "And how well did that work?"

He looked down into his lap, once more having no good reply.

"Right," she continued. "If a person does not believe that they have done anything wrong, punishment will not convince them otherwise. It will merely erode their faith in the system. Likewise, fear of punishment does not deter people from doing what they want. Only their own consciences can stop them." She paused for a moment, allowing him to digest what she had just said.

"So, what is your conscience telling you now, Chakotay?" she offered, and he raised his eyes to meet her tentative gaze.

"That right now, you don't need an 'angry warrior.' You need a friend. Who will keep your secrets private and offer you any support you need, without compounding your guilt by pushing you to engage in retaliation or vengeance."

Her mouth curled slightly in the hint of a smile. "I knew you were a wise man, Chakotay. Again, evidence that you will make an excellent captain."

His heart stopped and his breath hitched in his throat. "We're back to this again?" he asked. "What was your deal with the good doctor, anyway?"

She shook her head, looking down at the floor. "We still haven't come to an agreement. She insisted that I speak with you first." Then she looked back up and addressed him directly, frustration evident in her gravelly voice. "I have to say, I feel like I'm being given the runaround. You insisted I consult with her, and she sent me to speak with you. Each of you agreed to honor my request if the other concurred, but thus far neither of you is willing to make a decision. I was hoping that once you both knew what was going on, there would no longer be an issue."

He gritted his teeth as he nodded, then sighed loudly before answering. "I'll be straight with you, Kathryn. I'm uncomfortable with all of this. I don't think relieving you of duty is in anyone's best interest. I've explained to you why. I don't know what else to do. I don't think any of this is your fault, and I wish I could convince you of that."

She seemed to study him intently for quite some time, and he allowed the silence to envelop them, hoping that somehow it would initiate some sort of healing process. Finally she spoke, "And I don't know how to convince you that it is in everyone's best interest. So it seems we are at an impasse."

"Except," he pointed out, "as long as you're still the captain, you can order the rest of us to do whatever the hell you want. But I don't think anyone aboard will accept those orders."

"Well, I guess we'll have to see about that," she told him pointedly, again getting up to leave. "I'll prepare a statement." As she rose, she looked at him sideways. "It would probably help to have your support." She made her way towards the door as he desperately racked his brain for a way of countering her.

Suddenly, he had an idea. She was almost at the door. "Kathryn, wait," he called towards her, rising from his seat as she stopped and turned to face him from across the room.

"You were right, that I was thinking of vengeance. I am so angry that someone hurt you — more than one person even — and if I got close to them, I'm not sure I could control myself. You...you help me temper that. I told you once that you helped me find peace. It's still true. I might be able to lead this ship, but without your guidance, I'm afraid I'd enter us into battle or make enemies unnecessarily. I'm quick to judge. You're so fair-minded that even when someone has hurt you, your first assumption is that it was a misunderstanding. And as far as I'm concerned, that makes you just about the best captain Starfleet has ever had. You'll never start a war unless it's absolutely necessary. You prefer to make friends than enemies. You'll sacrifice yourself before you'll let anyone else get hurt. And if you're worried that makes you vulnerable, I can help you stay safe, offer my guidance and protection when you have to do something dangerous. Maybe I won't always be able to protect you — though I hope it won't ever come to that again — but I can always help protect the ship. The two of us are a dynamite team. I think...the ship needs both of us, working together, in order to give us all our best shot at making it home in one piece. And the team seems to work the way it is; I see no reason to change it up, especially given that I'm sure it would make everyone on board a little uncomfortable. They'd wonder why...and you just said you'd prefer to keep your private matters private. Do you really want the rumors that would circulate if we even traded jobs, let alone if you took over some even more junior position?"

Her lips pushed into a straight line, and he could see her struggling to come up with an argument. She folded her arms on her chest. "I suppose you have a point," she spoke low, barely above a whisper. "But what about me? What will you do if I have a panic attack at an inopportune moment?"

Now it was his turn to study her once more, and cautiously, he took a few steps forward, narrowing the distance between them before answering. He left about half a meter for comfort, and matched her soft tone with his own. "Somehow I don't think that's going to happen. Whenever there's a crisis, you're always too preoccupied dealing with it to think about much else. But we can cross that bridge if we come to it. It shouldn't be different than if you were incapacitated by enemy fire or illness or any other unexpected circumstance. And as for the rest of the time, I'm here. I'll help in whatever way I can. Lead you on vision quests, help you meditate, take you somewhere on the holodeck to get your mind off of your troubles, take over your duties for a little while so you can rest, or just listen when you want to talk. We can be flexible here, but you'll have to trust me."

She nodded hesitantly, and the twinkle in her eye seemed to indicate she noticed his reflection of her usual request for his trust. "All right. I suppose we have a deal. For now. I..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes shifted side to side slightly, nervously.

At that moment, she completely surprised him by stepping towards him, closing the gap completely, and resting a hand on his chest. He stood still, holding his breath and stiffening slightly, attempting not to show how much that small touch, so familiar and so missed, was sending electricity down to his toes and up through the top of his head. "Thank you, Chakotay," she said. "I'll see you in the morning." She dropped her hand and turned, once again, to leave.

He glanced at the chronometer as he exhaled. "You mean in about an hour. Would you like to join me for breakfast in the mess hall after we both have a shower?"

She turned back to him, and this time she was really smiling. "I'd like that," she admitted. "I will see you again in twenty minutes." And with that, she disappeared.

He let out another breath, realizing they had a tough road ahead of them, but feeling the profound relief of knowing that he hadn't lost her completely. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he hoped she would continue to open up to him until she could truly heal.

And in case he ever found out which human male had assaulted her, he silently vowed not to take any rash action, to respect her wishes in that regard. But there was probably something he could do to prevent future Starfleet officers from suffering as she had, or at least to squash the deleterious "training" she'd been forced to undergo. He was certain there was something he could do. He just had to figure out what. Luckily, he seemed to have plenty of time to think about it.

And in the meantime, they'd cope with whatever was to come.

=/\= =/\= =/\=