Chapter Text
Kathryn sighed as she sat down behind her desk in her ready room with yet another cup of replicated coffee. She could almost swear the pile of reports on her desk had multiplied since she’d came in that morning. She rubbed at her temples as she pulled another one towards her. The persistent headache of the last week refused to dissipate and was now growing so intense Kathryn was actually considering going to The Doctor about it. Just how had she allowed all this work to pile up so much?
The door chimed, and a moment later, Chakotay appeared on the threshold, two PADDs in his hand.
“If those are more duty rosters or status reports, I’m not interested,” she said warily, lifting up a hand. “I’m delegating. Captain’s prerogative.”
His face took on a subtle smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve dealt with them already. Just need your approval. You don’t even have to read them.”
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, watching him, lips pursed. “I suppose I can trust you not to give me anything dangerous or foolish to approve.”
“You suppose?” Chakotay came further into the room and laid the PADDs down on her desk. His lips twisted with amusement and he winked. “I wouldn’t be so sure. You don’t know what ridiculously extravagant things I’ve requested for my quarters.”
Kathryn managed a small smile and lifted the PADDs to add to the pile. Something must have shown on her face, for Chakotay’s teasing demeanour slipped slightly.
“Are you alright?” he asked, beginning to frown.
“I’m fine,” Kathryn said, cursing herself for showing any weakness. She forced herself to sit up a little straighter, and smile through her headache. “Just a lot of work’s piled up these last few weeks.”
Chakotay nodded. “That plague we ran into off Krolis Prime. With half the crew affected work’s sure backed up around here. I’ve just been listening to B’Elanna venting about the condition of the plasma manifolds and a few other areas that were neglected during the outbreak.”
Kathryn knew exactly what he meant. A good proportion of the reports she was currently reading through were indeed engineering related matters. General maintenance had been so firmly placed upon the backburner when Voyager was running on a skeleton crew it was beginning to catch up on them pretty badly.
“I’m just glad The Doctor came up with the cure and vaccine so quickly,” she said, lifting her coffee and taking a long sip, despite the increase to her headache the rush of caffeine caused. “Can you imagine how much worse off we’d be if we’d allowed the virus to run its normal course of six weeks? Even two was enough to make everything around here almost grind to a halt. We’ll be picking up the slack for months.”
Chakotay listened, and his frown grew ever deeper as he heard the note of bitterness in her voice. Glancing briefly at the door, he came and took a seat before her desk, leaning in slightly in that familiar way she never allowed anyone else on her staff to do.
“You don’t seem well, Kathryn,” he said gently. “I’ve noticed the last few weeks. You’re not yourself.”
“How do you mean?” Kathryn asked, though she knew exactly what he meant. She couldn’t deny the significant downturn her health had taken in the last few weeks. Of course, she couldn’t admit that in front of him. She was the captain, after all. Her crew was counting on her to be strong.
Chakotay raised an eyebrow, refusing to humour her when they both knew what he was referring to. Despite her wish to just end his conversation, she could not help but be a little touched by his concern. The way he was looking at her right now; face so open, eyes so expressive …
No, she told herself sharply, stopping herself from even trying to go there. Don’t think of him like that. He’s your first officer.
“I’ve just got a bit of a headache,” Kathryn said, giving in a little with a sigh. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Maybe you should go to The Doctor,” Chakotay said, leaning in a little further, his dark eyes roaming across her face. “Leave some of this for now.”
“If I leave this, it’ll only grow by tomorrow,” Kathryn said, waving her hand towards the pile of PADDs next to her, unable to keep the air of exasperation from her voice. “I just need to knuckle down and get through it.” Seeing that Chakotay looked like he wanted to argue more, she sighed again, closing her eyes briefly. “I’ll see The Doctor tomorrow if this damned headache doesn’t go away. Happy?”
“No,” Chakotay said, shaking his head. “I can’t be. Not when you’re so stressed. Let me take on some of this—”
“It’s all captain level stuff,” she said, smiling a little to show her appreciation for his offer. “Needs my authority. Don’t worry about it, Chakotay. A day or two of stress sorting all this out won’t kill me. I’d rather just get it all done.”
He nodded, and stood up to leave, but did not look satisfied in the slightest. He paused in the doorway and looked back at her.
“Don’t push yourself too hard, Kathryn,” he said, locking his eyes on hers. “The ship can operate without status updates and crew reports for a couple of days. It can’t operate without its captain.”
He left before she could make any answer. As soon as the door closed behind him, she rested her elbows on her desk and buried her head in her hands. Her headache was now absolutely splitting, all the worse for Chakotay having left the room. Somehow, when he was near, looking at her, smiling at her, she could forget the stresses of being captain for a while. Until of course, it all came flooding back, and with the added unpleasant reminder that her position was also what prevented her from truly indulging in this flourishing thing that existed between them. Sometimes, being captain was more of a burden than it was worth. In more ways than one.
Kathryn worked hard the rest of her shift, getting through yet more coffee and racing through her reports with a speed which she knew was possibly proof she was being unusually sloppy, yet she could not find the energy to care. By the time she had dragged herself through the corridors at the end of her shift back to her quarters she was ready to collapse. She did not bother to put on the lights as she entered and headed straight for the replicator, tapping a few panels and sitting down with the most basic of meals she could programme quickly. She barely even noticed what she was eating.
Once finished, she disposed of the dishes and went to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and slipping out of her uniform jacket and pants, but not undressing any further, just throwing herself upon her bed. Her body had little energy for anything. In fact, ever since the Krolisian plague had swept the ship, she’d been battling the most extreme fatigue she’d ever faced in her life, and that included the time during finals in her last year at the Academy when she’d almost found herself hospitalised from overwork. It was all she could do to drag herself to the bridge each morning.
Chakotay wasn’t the only one to have noticed, she knew. Her fatigue had led her to be a little sharper than usual with some of her crew and she hated the effect her own moods were having on them. Chakotay was right, as he usually was. The ship couldn’t function without a captain. And with the fatigue and wild mood swings she’d been experiencing lately, she knew she could not long continue like this. She’d go to The Doctor before her shift the next morning.
Kathryn drifted off to sleep, Chakotay’s face in her mind. At least here, off-duty and in the privacy of her own quarters, she could think of him in whichever way she liked.
Her pleasant dreams of her first officer, however, came to an abrupt end the following morning when she woke with a terrible heaving in her stomach.
Kathryn’s eyes snapped open, and she struggled out of bed, half running, half crawling towards the bathroom as the world seem to spin around her, barely making it there in time to vomit up her meal of the previous night. She coughed and groaned as she emptied her stomach. Her entire body was shaking and she lay practically sprawled across the floor for several minutes. Still trembling, she eventually managed to stand up and splash her face with water, rinsing out her mouth to rid it of the acrid taste. She stared at herself in the mirror, surprised by just how pale she looked. Her eyes stood out sharply by virtue of a dark shadow surrounding them, and she could have sworn her face looked more hollow than before. Was stress really doing this to her?
She remained in her bathroom several more minutes, unwilling to leave while the nausea remained, and drank some more water, hoping that might alleviate the headache which had returned in full force. Eventually, when seeing she wasn’t about to throw up again, she had a quick sonic shower and made her way to her bedroom to get dressed. Even bending down to put on her boots left her feeling lightheaded and she had to stop and lean against the wall for a few moments for it to subside. Yes, she had definitely better go and see The Doctor before going on duty. She didn’t think her senior staff would appreciate her vomiting all over the bridge.
After a futile few minutes in the bathroom trying to make herself look more presentable, she gave it up as a lost cause and began making her way to sickbay. As she walked, she was relieved to find her nausea began to subside slightly, though her headache remained as stubborn as before. By the time she reached sickbay, she felt somewhat better, and almost debated whether she should go in or not. Only the image of Chakotay’s concerned face the day before convinced her to head through those doors.
The Doctor came out from his office as she entered and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
“Captain!” he cried, beaming broadly. “I can’t say it’s very often I see you here of your own accord. What can I do for you?”
“One hell of a headache,” she said, allowing The Doctor to lead her over to sit on the edge of one of the biobeds while he fetched a tricorder. “It’s been constant the last couple weeks. Stress, I imagine.”
“Indeed,” The Doctor said, eyes widening slightly. “It must be severe to convince you of all people that you’re under too much stress.”
“Commander Chakotay—”
“Say no more,” The Doctor said, as he came to stand in front of her with a smile. “I should have known it would have been him to convince you to come. You seldom listen to anyone else around here.”
Kathryn made no answer, not wishing him to perhaps suspect there was anything more to her regard for Chakotay’s opinion than that of a captain for her first officer. She stayed still as The Doctor ran his scanner over her head. He frowned slightly as he looked down at his display.
“Hm,” he said. “Doesn’t appear to be the usual sort of tension headache you’ve had before. Have you had any other symptoms?”
Kathryn hesitated, reluctant despite everything to reveal just how bad she’d been feeling lately. The last thing she needed right now was for The Doctor to prescribe bed rest with everything else that was piling up on her. Still, she couldn’t ignore this. If she continued feeling this way, she knew she’d be no use to anybody.
“A bit of nausea and light-headedness,” she admitted. “I vomited this morning, but I’ve been feeling a bit ‘off’ for a while.”
“Any changes to appetite? Mood?”
“A little,” she said, thinking back. “I’ve been a bit touchy lately with people. And I’ve been eating less. I’m just struggling to stomach Neelix’s cooking at the moment.”
“I can hardly blame you,” The Doctor said darkly. He moved his scanner down to take in her entire body. “When did you say these symptoms began?”
“Two weeks ago,” she said, wincing as there was a particularly painful stabbing sensation in her temple. “Around the time you gave us that vaccine for the Krolisian plague.”
“Hmm,” he said, not looking at her as he continued waving his scanner around, eyes fixed on his tricorder. “It’s possible the two could be related. Perhaps you’ve had a delayed reaction to it, or perhaps it’s proved ineffective and …”
“And what?” Kathryn asked, immediately on alert as she saw The Doctor freeze entirely and stop to stare in disbelief at his tricorder, cut off entirely in his flow. She had seldom seen him lost for words before.
“Doctor?” she prompted, seeing him still standing motionless after a few moments. She couldn’t prevent a spike of fear beginning in her chest as she saw his reaction. “What’s wrong? Are the two connected? Did I catch the virus?”
Finally, The Doctor came back to his senses and blinked again. He slowly closed his tricorder and lifted his eyes to Kathryn’s. Her heart beat faster as she saw an unusually serious expression on his face.
“Your symptoms have nothing to do with the Krolisian plague, Captain,” he said gently. “You’re not ill at all in fact.”
“Then what?” Kathryn demanded, losing patience with him, now starting to allow the fear to creep in further the longer he kept this from her. “Why am I feeling like this?”
The Doctor glanced towards the sickbay doors for a moment, before speaking, a half smile on his lips.
“Because, Captain, you’re pregnant.”