KEEPING TRACK OF TIME
(a sequel, of sorts, to "Demon")
by Jennifer Ferris

~*~

Laundry. Rations. It was always something, dammit. Kathryn Janeway groused to herself as she tried to think of something she could order from her dwindling replicator account. Something she could afford. Something that would be a luxury, that would help her forget for just a few minutes that they still hadn't processed the deutronium, that they were still running on half- impulse, that she'd worn the same uniform for three days running and god help anybody who got too close to her in the lift. She'd brushed her hair out that morning for an extra few minutes, trying to look fresh and clean, even though everybody was in the same boat (so to speak) and they were all just a little... well, not ripe, exactly. Not exactly. She hadn't had a bath. Chakotay hadn't shaved. Tom hadn't shaved. Harry hadn't shaved. Tuvok had, of course. Somehow. Or maybe he didn't need to. It would be like him, she thought crossly. He could probably will his beard away. Another handy vulcan discipline.

She was always proud of her ship. Especially now, when things were a little tight. But she'd just as soon not have to host any alien ambassadors until they could get the air fresheners working again. The only place that smelled good right now was the Hydroponics Bay - and that was a case of absolute necessity. The life growing in there wasn't only for moral support - it was food. It didn't even need to be cooked. It was almost free.

Unlike clean clothes, or the static processors that normally removed the dust and dead skin and god knew what else from the air.

She needed a bath. She really needed one. And she wasn't going to get it. She couldn't waste all that water, or the energy needed to heat it up. The sonic showers were better than nothing, but they didn't make you smell fresh and sure in hell didn't feel that way. So, no bath. Not for another couple of days, until B'Elanna and her team processed the ore that they'd bought so dearly. Another 49 hours. They could make it. They'd done well to get this far.

Landing the ship. Hah. Janeway knew that'd caught everybody by surprise. Too dangerous to take a shuttle down, so you land the whole ship? Well, it had been a calculated gamble. They taught that one at the Academy. Oh, they didn't call it that; but the Kirk Syndrome was an accepted maneuver. Cheat, if you have to. Change the rules. Nothing succeeds like success. Well, it had worked. And the cloning-- She'd had quite a row with Chakotay about it. He'd surprised her, being so against the whole idea.

"How in the hell can you condone this idea? You won't share our technology, you won't allow us to share our agronomy in case it changes a culture, but you'll populate a whole planet with technologically knowledgeable crewmembers? How can you square that with the Prime Directive?"

She hadn't understood why he was so upset at the whole idea. "There's no population down there, Chakotay. We're not contaminating a culture. We're...creating one. We're establishing a colony, if you like. It's not as if they can get off the planet and invade the quadrant."

"No?" The look in his eyes was stormy. "There's 124 people down there. They're smart. They're creative. And they have the resources of a whole planet. A planet that they're very in tune with. That will want to help them."

"Chakotay..." She didn't know what to say to him. "Why does it bother you so much?"

"We're abandoning them, Kathryn. It may have started out as just basic raw materials... but did you read the scans before we left? They're people. And we've left them, with no support, in a hostile region, without so much as a communicator... not even our thanks."

"Oh, they had that. I only talked to Harry, and Tom. But they knew." She tilted her head, studying her first officer. "If you felt so strongly about it, why did you consent to leave your DNA?"

Chakotay averted his eyes, and shrugged. "It was your decision."

"And..." There was more, of course.

"And..." he brought his gaze directly back to hers. "Did you think I'd leave you there without me?"

She swallowed. "It wasn't me."

"No. And it's not me. Any more than it's really Tom, or Harry, or B'Elanna, or Aya, or Sam, or any of the others. But-"

"Yes." She nodded, unable to meet his eyes now. "I know. " Her voice soft now. "Thank you."

"Yeah." He shook his head. "Disagreement number forty-seven."

Janeway smiled at that. "We seem to be able to manage those."

So here she was, maybe two days until the ship would be back to fitness. Minimal fitness, at that. And she was wasting an evening. She hadn't had more than a few hours to herself in over a week, and that was spent in sleep that she'd begrudged. But she'd found herself snapping at Tuvok, of all people, tonight. Hell, yelling at Tuvok. Chakotay had been there through the whole scene, and after the vulcan left her ready room, eyes blazing with an irritation he wouldn't admit, her first officer had stopped her from storming out.

At least it was only the two of them now. "Captain," Chakotay had said without preliminaries, "permission to speak freely?"

Oh, shit. What now? "Of course," she'd said, tight-lipped. Draw a line in the sand, I dare you, mister.

"Thank you." He'd leaned over her desk at her, palms flat on the dusty surface. "You've been a little tense this past week. We all have. But now you're yelling at Tuvok? Kathryn, you are way out of line."

"I'm out of line? Who do you think you're talking to?"

Straightening up, Chakotay glared right back at her, arms folded across his chest. "At this point I have no idea. You think you can't break the rules, because you're the captain? If you do it, it has to be right? Bullshit."

She'd been seeing red from the moment he confronted her. "Get the hell out of here, Commander. If you're going to throw insults at me I sure as hell don't have to listen to it."

"Well you're sure as hell not listening to anybody else," he said, not budging. "Somebody's got to have the balls to tell you. It looks like I'm elected."

She'd jumped out of her chair then. It never occurred to her that if she wanted to defuse his argument, all she had to do was calm down and answer in a reasonable tone. She didn't feel like being reasonable. She felt like having a good knock-down fight, and if Chakotay was in the mood for it, fine. "Who the HELL do you think you are, mister? My fucking ship is on the brink of disaster and my crew has had it up to HERE and we can't even get a decent meal and I will thank you to take your patient medicine-man bullshit and get out of my sight with it. I will NOT-" and she stabbed him in the chest with an angry finger.

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand in mid-motion, and held her away from him with an easy strength. They both froze, Kathryn glaring at him with her patented death look.

To her utter astonishment, after a moment Chakotay started to laugh. He laughed at her, at himself, and couldn't seem to stop.

"What the fuck are you laughing at!"

"Kathryn..." Chakotay wiped his eyes. "Kathryn. Look at you. You poked me. You're cussing at me! You don't do that. You never do that."

"Well I sure in… I am not either...well I'm..." She ground to a halt. "I didn't mean to-"

She actually swayed on her feet, clutching at his arm for momentary support. "I don't know what got into me," she muttered. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. You just seemed awfully handy all of a sudden."

As quickly as his laughter started, seriousness returned. "Kathryn. Come here, sit down." He guided her to the sofa. When the back of her knees touched the cushion, he pushed her unceremoniously to sit. "Stay there. Let me get you something," and though she hoped for a cup of strengthening coffee, what he brought her was a cool glass of water. "Drink it," he ordered, and she actually obeyed, without thinking.

After a moment she focused on him again. "Good lord. I'm sorry. I guess this week has been getting to me."

"Yeah. Even you. If Aya and Sam can throw a few punches right in the mess hall, and Jenny and Megan aren't even speaking to each other, and B'Elanna is too tired to even fight with Tom...I'd say we're all a little on edge. Even the Captain. Even Kathryn." She shook her head, protesting, and Chakotay smiled at her. "Thought you were immune, didn't you? Guess what."

She resisted the urge to curse at him again, recognizing finally that her fatigue was taking over. "I guess I'm a little-"

"Run down? Exhausted? Ready to blow your brains out?"

She'd been nodding, willing to agree, until that last. "Wait a minute."

"I just wondered if you were paying attention. Stay put, there's one more thing you could use." It was a question, this time, so she stayed put. When he came back from the replicator he was carrying a bowl of soup.

"I don't even like-" Mushroom soup, she'd started to say, assuming he was bringing her the kind he liked best.

"Just try it." It was tomato soup. Tom's recipe, maybe, programmed into the replicator. It was delicious, light, easy to swallow. She finished the bowl and held it out for seconds. Chakotay eyed her warily, but brought her another when she asked, wordlessly.

She finished half of it. "That's all I can manage. Thank you."

"I think one more thing, maybe."

"No." But she eyed him curiously. "What?"

He stood up, pulling her with him. "Computer, medical override first officer seven three three one eight. Intraship transporter to captain's quarters." In nanoseconds, they were dematerializing, to reappear inside Janeway's cabin.

She was already protesting. "We can't afford the energy, don't you dare..." But it was already done.

"A good night's sleep, Kathryn. As much as I hate to put it this way - we need our captain back."

She bristled angrily. "I haven't gone anywhere."

"Our cheerful, considerate, reasonable captain back," he explained.

"I'm always reasonable," she said crossly.

He stared back at her. "In a pig's eye."

"Chakotay." She took a calming breath, instead of using the retort that was building. "Point taken."

"If you don't mind my suggesting-"

Janeway actually laughed. "Suggesting? Is that what you call it?"

He ignored that. "Repairs are underway, everything that can be done is being done, we're fine."

"Like hell."

"As fine as we can be. And nothing you do this evening will make any difference, when it comes to that. Am I right?"

She eyed him warily. "Maybe."

"So my suggestion is that you hibernate for a little while. Take the night off. Is that so hard to do?" Janeway didn't answer. He pressed on. "Kathryn?"

Suddenly she was very tired. "All right."

"All right?"

"The rest of the evening. Is that what you said?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Get the hell out of here."

"Yes ma'am." This time he did as she asked.

. . .

So here she was. It was 2200 and she'd even had a nap, two hours on the sofa, her quilt tucked around her for security. She was actually grateful to Chakotay. Not only had the rest done her a world of good - and she bet she'd sleep tonight, too, with a little luck - but it was a luxury beyond compare to have a few hours when she didn't have to Put On A Good Face. No moral support this evening. People could do without the Captain's reassuring presence for a little while...though, if Chakotay was right, she thought ruefully, they were probably grateful as hell that she was out of sight. Had she been that bad?

Probably. She owed Tuvok an apology, first thing. Though of course he would deny the necessity. Anyway, here she was, tucked away in her quarters, not talking to anybody, and wasn't that a relief. Trying to think of some small luxury she could give herself, that wouldn't make her feel like she was cheating.

Couldn't think of a damn thing, though. Food? She didn't care enough to bother. The tomato soup had been just what she needed, a little nourishment, a little warmth, and if she thought about it - which she wouldn't, thank you very much - it didn't hurt that it was Chakotay who noticed she needed it. Though he always noticed such things, damn him. Tonight, just for tonight, she could be grateful.

She refused to think further about that. Not right now. That was...Chakotay was...a subject too full of complications to even contemplate, not tonight.

If she'd had a trashy novel handy, she'd have been reading it. For that matter, if she'd known the titles, she'd have called one up on the computer. They didn't tend to be classified according to trashiness, though, so that was probably out. She could be reading reports; probably should be. But to hell with that, too. 'A little self-pity, maybe?' she thought at herself, wryly. Good thing Starfleet Command can't see you now. This isn't quite the persona she wanted to show them, or anybody. She just wanted to be left alone.

So at that moment, of course, her communicator chimed. "Damn," Janeway said clearly, to the empty room. "Shit," she added, for good measure.

But...oh, well. "Janeway here," she answered, sighing.

It was Chakotay, of all people. The one person she'd have thought knew she needed to be alone, tonight. "Captain," his voice said, waiting for her to reply.

"I'm still here," she summoned a rueful smile. "What is it?"

"There's something I think you need to see."

"Oh hell, Chakotay," she started. "Can't it wait?"

"No. I don't think so."

Another sigh, but silent. "All right." She stood, zipping up her rumpled uniform, rummaging around for her boots. "Where is it? What is it?"

Maybe he could hear her better than she thought. "You don't need to dress."

"How did you know I-- Well, anyway, of course I do. How can I see whatever it is if-"

"Let me explain."

She stopped, boot in hand. "Go ahead."

"What you need to see...is a little present from the crew. Apparently they've been keeping better track of time than we have. Than I have," he added.

By now she was just confused. "And?"

"Go take a look in your bathroom, Kathryn."

"My-"

"Just do it."

She dropped her boot to the deck. "This had better be good. What in the hell you could be talking about-" But by now she was in the bathroom, and she stopped, speechless.

Her bathroom, with her tub. Her tub, filled almost to the brim with water that steamed gently even as she watched. Hot water, that she dipped a hand into, still speechless.

Chakotay's voice brought her back to awareness. "Kathryn?"

"-Good god. How in the hell-I didn't do this. I have deliberately not done this. What-"

"They pooled their rations. It's all energy to the computer, after all. They pooled their rations and bought you a bath."

"The implication being that I needed one so much?" Her voice sounded strange even to her, annoyance sounding over the lump in her throat.

"Wait a minute, there's one more thing. Stay there, will you? Don't get into the tub yet."

"I'm not going to get-" but she was talking to a dead comm line. A second later, her door buzzer sounded.

Wordlessly, not even reacting yet, Kathryn padded in bare feet over to the door and palmed open the lock. Chakotay stood there, a small covered dish in his hands, waiting. Still without speaking, she motioned him to enter.

He held out the covered dish. "This part's from me."

"Chakotay, what in hell is going on?"

He smiled shyly. "Take a look."

"You're going to explain this, aren't you." It wasn't a question.

"Just take a look."

She removed the cover. It was a small pastry, delicate and sweet smelling. Chakotay nodded at it. "It's strawberry, your favorite I think. I replicated it, I'm not good at pastry. A Brisean tart."

Carefully, she put the plate down on her desk. "Yes," she said quietly, "I love them. But why-"

"I remember you mentioning it one time, to Paris. It was either that," he nodded at the dish, "or the other kind of Brisean tart. I didn't think you'd have had that in mind." He grinned this time. Brisean tarts were made on Risa, a world much known for the comeliness and friendly disposition of its entertainers - no, she wouldn't have gone out of her way for *that* kind of tart.

"You didn't answer my question," Janeway said, trying not to smile. "What's this all about?"

He unfolded a small napkin next to the plate, placing a fork in handy proximity, then leaned over and carefully kissed her on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Kathryn."

"-Oh." She looked down at the plate, blinking a bit. After a moment, she looked up sharply. "But the crew?"

"Know how to read a calendar, and a computer database."

"But I never do birthdays," Janeway argued. "And there's certainly no reason to make any fuss over mine."

"Apparently they disagree. Or they wanted to do something for you, anyway."

As she shook her head, not wanting to accept that she deserved special treatment, Chakotay reached out a hand and touched her chin. "You wouldn't want that," he nodded in the direction of the bathroom, "to go to waste, would you? When they went to the trouble of transporting you a tub full of hot water?"

"Transported it." She closed her eyes, guiltily. "When we haven't even had a decent meal in a week."

"Yes. When we haven't. Kind of a shame not to accept their gift." He drew back.

Janeway straightened. "That would be pretty terrible, wouldn't it."

He nodded gravely. "I think so."

"Well, then..."

"Enjoy it, Captain." He walked toward the door, then turned as if at an afterthought. "Unless you'd like help? Or maybe company."

For the second time that evening she glared at him and said, "Get the hell out of here."

But this time she was grinning. So was he.

Which is why Kathryn Janeway sat, immersed in a tub of steaming hot water, candles carefully lit, glass of hoarded wine in hand, celebrating her forty- fourth birthday.

With a small pastry waiting in the other room.

FINIS

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