Disclaimer: If I owned ANY of Star Trek, Voyager or otherwise, there wouldn't have been a chance in hell that the deleted J/C scene from 'Hunters' (ST:VOY- 04/15) would have been omitted from the final cut. NO WAY. But I don't own any of this, so I must make do with being to fix the episode in question through this fic. However, I do wish I could be the one to lay a claim to the idea of placing Chakotay's quarters right next door to Janeway's... *sigh*...or that dratted bulkhead, just to get rid of the damn thing!

WARNING: THIS FIC MAY CONTAIN POETRY AT SOME POINT. If you begin to exhibit any signs that this may be affecting you health (such as the appearance of hives, a sensation of overpowering nausea, anaphylaxis, a bright teal or purple rash on your right eyelid and left buttock... etc.) or have ever done so in the past in reaction to poetry of a similar nature, the author recommends that you stop reading IMMEDIATELY and move onto another story that may be better suited for your tastes. The author will accept no responsibility for any of this, as she has warned you very clearly and will probably be watching 'Endgame' and hurling obscenities at the idiot who thought that C/7 was a good idea... *grumble*...

A/N: This follows straight on from 'At the End of the Day' and 'What Lies Between', so I recommend that you read those two first, although neither of them is very long... but I promise that not all is what it seems...

Feel free to leave feedback, even if it is constructive criticism. If there is something in this fic you do not agree with, feel free to let me know, although I will tell you now that flames of any kind will be ignored.

Thank yous: Firstly, to Mrs. Singing Violin, who always makes sure that I know where my plot holes are and gives me the correct tools to plug them. Secondly, to Jordan Trevor, for the bout of inspiration that caused me to continue this fic, and the Hurt/Comfort it contained within (but all blame for the angst goes to me). And thirdly to all you beautiful people who have left the numerous reviews for both 'At the End of the Day' and 'What Lies Between', because I wasn't callous enough to leave Janeway and Chakotay as they were.

Enjoy. AK :)

This is all my fault... I've pushed him away for so long... and now he's left me...

If the barriers fall now she will suffer even more, she will be faced with an impossible decision- me or the crew. I cannot make her choose...

"Chakotay..."

This time her voice is quieter. As if she were on the other side, calling my name.

But she can't be. It must be my imagination-

A sob. Another sob that twists my heart in my chest.

I swallow. I cannot do this.

I close my eyes and try to ignore the sound of her crying... but I can't.

There is no part of me that does not love her.

There is no part of me that does not want to run to her and comfort her.

But I cannot be sure that to be comforted by me is what she wants. Kathryn has changed so very much over these past few months, during which I have seen her hardened by the Borg, I have seen her on the brink of death, I have seen her smile fade slightly every day as she struggles to some to terms with everything that has happened to her. To us. But can I still offer her the comfort that she needs? Can I still be that support for her? Or will she simply push me away again?

I turn around and walk back to the wall. I tell myself that, if she says my name again I will go to her. If she says my name again I will know that this is real, that she needs me.

I tell myself that if she stays silent I will turn around and never look back again. Make or break, Kathryn. I need your help with this.

I reach my hand out to touch the bulkhead. For a second, my hand touches the cold metal and I lean my weight against it. But then I fall forwards.

I stumble as the support that the wall had been giving me vanished. I look ahead of me. The wall was still there, but my hand is not. My fingers, the tip of my thumb and the upper half of my palm are surrounded by the bulkhead.

Startled, I pull away. I raise my right hand. It is the same as it has always been, tainted by scars it has had to endure over the and I cannot feel any pain. In spite of this I turn it around and flex it. The only difference I feel is that it perceives the air of my quarters as slightly warmer than my left hand does. The feel of the bulkhead was cold, but not unpleasantly so.

I tentatively reach out again, letting the cool of the metal glide over my fingers. The only thing I can liken it to is placing my fingers slightly below the surface of cold water. There are a few small ripples that fan out from the point of contact, but then the metal of the bulkhead is still once more. It feels heavier than water, thicker, and, unlike water, there are no remnants of the liquid that remain on my fingers. I reach my hand out further and feel the warm air of Kathryn's quarters on the other side, a band of cold surrounding my right forearm.

It seems that the barriers erected between us were not as stable as originally thought. I pull my hand out and watch, enraptured as the barrier once again becomes a single continuous and flawless surface when the ripples caused by the absence of my fingers dissipate.

"Chakotay..." I hear her voice again, and my mind is made up.

I swallow and take a step forwards, allowing the sensation of cold metal to wash over me for a moment before I am through the bulkhead and find myself once again in the gloom of Kathryn's living quarters. I glance back at the barrier, managing to see as the last of the ripples fade and the wall is smooth again.

My attention is suddenly torn from the wall as I hear a scream from the bedroom.

"NO!"

"Kathryn!" I run towards the source of the noise, hoping once again that none of this is real, that she is fine, that she wants me, needs me, that her scream was one of surprise and not pain at my absence.

I reach the bed-

But it is empty. She isn't here. I look in the bathroom, again in the lounge, but her quarters are empty. She isn't here. I'm alone.

"Chakotay..."

Her voice. It's a quiet whimper in the darkness, but I now that voice. She is here. I know it.

"Kathryn?" I look around in desperation, where could she be?

"Chakotay...".

She isn't in any of the rooms.

"Computer, state the location of Kathryn Janeway."

No answer. Not from the computer.

"Chakotay..."

I go to the exit. The doors don't open. I lay my hand flat against them, expecting to see it disappear within the metal like it did before. But it doesn't. My vision swims slightly through angry tears as I resist the urge to slam my fist against the solid metal of the doors.

I rush back to the bulkhead, but it is unyielding once more.

"KATHRYN!"