by K.N. Senko

Disclaimer:  Paramount and Viacom own Star Trek (oh the pain, the pain):  they would never inflict this kind of pain on Captain Janeway and her crew.

Note:  Day 9 has been based upon a rewritten version of 9 Days, Day 8.  In order to understand what's going on, you definitely have to read the rewritten version.

The new Days 8, 9 and Day 9 ~ Escape are a lot more eventful than some of the other parts, and a little more...sensuous... as well (Let's just say that Kathryn and Chakotay's relationship has finally moved to a whole new level.  None of it warrants an NC-17 rating, but i just thought i'd warn you).

I've also used some technical terms in regard to Janeway's pregnancy...  Having never experienced pregnancy or childbirth i hope that i don't sound incredibly stupid to those of you who have.  It's a little difficult to imagine what that would be like, if you know what i mean.

You'll probably also notice that these last three parts are quite a bit longer than the first seven (the exception being Day 1 which was longer).  I wanted to put everything in this one part, but discovered that there were simply too many loose ends to tie up.  You can read the last part in Day 9 ~ Escape

Back to Day 8 ~ rewritten
 
 
 
Day Nine

Kathryn sat up in the darkness, hand on her abdomen.  The contraction subsided after a few moments, but it had been strong enough to pull her out of her sleep.  She waited several more moments, wondering if she would feel her uterus tighten again.  She looked down at her large, round tummy:

"As much as I want to hold you in my arms, little one, it's not quite time for you to make an appearance yet," she whispered, rubbing her belly.  She turned to look at where Chakotay had laid next to her the night before, reaching her hand out to touch the emptiness on the other side of the bed:  "Chakotay," she called out.

"Kathryn?" he came out of the bathroom and was immedietely kneeling beside her on the bed.  "What's wrong?" he asked, his tattoo rippled with worry.

"Nothing," she gave him a small smiled:  "Only the fact that I woke up without you beside me."  He leaned down to kiss her, his hand taking her extended one in his own.  She lay down again, and smiled at him in the darkness:

"What time is it?" she asked, her free hand rubbing her midsection again.

"A little before sunrise," he placed his hand over hers.  They could both feel their child squirm within her.  "I was planning on going running, then coming back to bed before you missed me."  He rose to sit down beside her:  "I'll stay..."

"No," she lifted a hand to stop him:  "Go ahead, we'll be alright."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Go," she commanded.  He nodded, smiling, then leaned down, face centimeters from her stomach:

"You don't give her any problems, you hear me?" he kissed her tummy:  "be good."  He moved up her body until his face was next to hers:  "And you," he kissed her:  "try to get some sleep."  He stood up:  "I'll be back."

She pulled his pillow to her chest as he walked back into the bathroom, hugging its softness, breathing in his scent.  She could hear him rummaging around in the bathroom, opening and closing the cabinet.  She hadn't heard these noises from another room before; it reminded her of the quiet sounds that her father would make in the early hours of the day when she had been a child.

When he lived planetside he had gotten up before dawn each day to get ready for work.  She could still hear the sound of the spoon scraping the bowl, the whisper of paper as he turned the pages of his real newspaper, never acquiescing to reading the padd versions.  She silenced her thoughts to listen to Chakotay's activities once again.  Knowing that he was here made her feel safe, just as hearing her father's routine had.

Chakotay turned on the water, and she could hear him brushing his teeth.  She would have to get up soon, she suddenly realized, if only for alleviation of the pressure on her bladder that she was starting to become acutely aware of.  The water turned off, and she could hear his footsteps cross the room toward the door.  He didn't say anything as he left:  he probably thought she was already asleep again.

She closed her eyes, trying to find that sleep, but she found her mind wandering.  Chakotay had made her so happy, and they hadn't even been married twenty-four hours yet.  She smiled as she remembered their lovemaking the night before:  that wasn't an experience she had been fortunate enough to have during her first pregnancy.  She felt closer to Chakotay now than she had ever thought possible.

But then her thoughts turned to their discussion, also of the night before.  She knew that as first officer he had every right to question her decision, but she needed his support, particularly now.  She didn't like to be in any situation where she had lost his support, but this morning she felt particularly vulnerable, even more than she had the night before.  There were so many risks, so many variables to consider.  It was more than her life at stake:  their child could be harmed just as easily as she could, and that alone gave Chakotay every right to object.

This would be only the first of many difficult decisions that she would have to make now that she and Chakotay were married.  He had needs that she would have to make sure that she didn't neglect, but she also had to live with the knowledge that she might have to one day order him to his death.

There would also be times when she had to decide between her child's welfare or the crew's... and what if she and Chakotay decided to have more children in the future?  She loved her baby so much, and she hadn't even met him, but there were also a hundred and forty-seven other lives to think about.  She would have to find a way to create a balance between the two if she was going to ensure that one--or even both--didn't suffer.

There were so many ways that this complicated things, but she forced these thoughts out of her mind for the time being.  She shouldn't be worrying about something that was beyond her control; it wouldn't help her or the baby.  It occurred to her that if she didn't provide for the crew's needs in this situation that it wouldn't help her child much.  This time it seemed that what was best for her crew was also what was best for her child:  getting back to Voyager.  Still, she wished that Chakotay could agree with her.

By the time she had sorted through all of this, she couldn't ignore her body's need for relief anymore.  She padded into the bathroom and eased her discomfort, then got back in bed, this time leaving her eyes open.  Oddly enough, she was eager for the day to start:  in fact, she could hardly keep still.  Even though it was still early, she was wide awake and felt great, except for one thing:  her back. She hadn't even realized that it had been bothering her, but now her thoughts were centered on the dull ache she felt there, and no matter what position she tried--however limited her options were at this point--she couldn't seem to get comfortable.  She could ask Chakotay for a massage when he got back, but that would be a while.  She would have to find some other way to cope until then.

Lying on her other side definitely didn't help, nor did lying on her back (in fact, that made it worse).  She definitely couldn't try lying on her stomach.  She sat up, rubbing her back with one hand, but the ache just wouldn't go away.  She sighed.  There was no way that she would be able to sleep now:  she was wide awake, and there was no hope of quieting her mind.  She was full of energy, and her entire body itched to be doing something:  anything.

She slipped on her shoes, grateful that their captors hadn't made her wear boots.  At this point she couldn't reach down to pull on her shoes, and she knew that her feet probably wouldn't have fit into her boots if she still had them.  In fact, she wondered if her Starfleet issue footwear would ever feel comfortable again.  Normally it was the type of shoe that her feet felt the most comfortable in, but that had been then.

She stood, and discovered with relief that this alleviated the discomfort in her back.  She turned to face the window:  the first hints of the sun were just beginning to tinge the sky, and a cool breeze blew, beckoning her to come out and enjoy the beauty of this place one last time.  She went back to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and freshened herself up before slipping out into the morning.
 
 
 

He hadn't ran like this since his Academy days...  The cold air nipping at his nose.  The sun's first rays stretching out across the sky, slowly changing it from ebony to cobalt to bright pastels before it slowly rose into view above the horizon.  If he hurried he could make it to their tree before the sun began to peek out from behind the mountain... to the tree where he and Kathryn had shared lunch together, had been united as husband and wife.

He picked up the pace, breaking into a run, and sprinted the rest of the way to the tree.  His chest was heaving by the time he reached it, and he allowed himself to collapse onto the grass, enjoying the cool carpet that grew beneath its wide branches.  He propped himself up on one elbow, noting that he was just on time for the view.
 
 
 

Her thoughts still dwelt on Chakotay.  She knew that he was her greatest source of strength, and she didn't like for them to not agree on something as important as this.  She paused, trying to catch her breath.  The baby was still high, and it made it hard for her to breathe.  She would need to rest before she walked too much farther, a feeling which disturbed her.  She was in excellent shape for her age, and normally a brisk walk did not wind her in the slightest.

She noticed a familiar silhouette nearby:  Tuvok kneeled in meditation.  She considered going to speak with him:  she needed his reassurance and advice, now more than ever.  She tried to approach him as quietly as possible:

"Tuvok," she spoke his name softly.

"Yes, Captain," he raised his head and opened his eyes, aware of her presence before she had even said a word.

"I need your counsel, old friend."  Tuvok nodded his understanding:

"Please, make yourself comfortable."  She kneeled beside him heavily, mentally revising that to 'as comfortable as possible' and turned her full attention to her friend:

"I'm sorry that I've disturbed you."

"Your interruption is invited, Captain," he replied.  "I know this has been a difficult time for you."  She nodded her agreement:

"Chakotay confronted me last night about my decision to join your team."

"You are questioning your decision."  It was a statement, not a question.

"A little," she admitted.  "I'm not sure who's right anymore."  Tuvok nodded solemnly:

"The Commander's concerns are well founded," he replied.  "However, his judgement is also clouded by his feelings for you...  He feels an intense concern for your well-being, and recent events have only served to enhance his apprehensions."

"You think that he's being illogical," she supplied.  Tuvok raised an eyebrow:

"On the contrary, Captain:  I see impeccable logic in his actions," he amended.  "However, your logic is equally persuasive.  I regret that I cannot offer you guidance concerning which decision to make:  the choice must be yours."

She nodded as he continued:  "I would, however submit how you have often conveyed your ease of mind and level of success when you follow 'your gut instinct,' as you put it.  Perhaps you should do so now."

"Thank you, Tuvok:  you've given me a lot to think about."  He stood to help her to her feet, then knelt again.

"I will offer up a prayer for you today, Captain."

"Thank you," she whispered again.  She left in silence.
 
 
 

"Mind if I join you?"  Chakotay jumped, startled by Kathryn's voice.  "I'm sorry," she smiled, brushed a stray hair out of her face.  She looked so radiant:  alive.  "I didn't mean to startle you."

"That's alright," he replied as she sat down beside him.  "You decided to get up?"

"I couldn't fall back asleep," she shifted position, wincing a bit.

"Are you alright?" he asked, instantly worried.  Her expression changed immedietely:

"I'm fine," she answered.   "Just a slight backache."  She smiled:  "I guess I'm just not used to sleeping with someone else," she teased.  He watched her for a moment, fully aware that she was in more discomfort than she was letting on, and then turned back to watch the sunrise:

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" she asked.

"I'm the reason that you weren't comfortable."

"Chakotay..." she laid a hand on his arm:  "I slept wonderfully," she reassured him, "better than I have in a long time.  I'm just very pregnant:  I feel great, considering."

He dropped the subject, and they sat in silence as the sun slowly rose above the horizon.  Chakotay reached over and took Kathryn's hand in his own.  "I'm sorry that I overreacted last night," she said softly, breaking the silence.

"No, I'm the one that's sorry, Kathryn," he replied:  "You were right."

"You aren't angry?" she asked softly.  He looked back to her, surprised:

"No, Kathryn, did you think that?" he asked.  "I may not like your decision, but I do agree with it."  Kathryn reached out to him and he moved to hug her.

"Thank you, Chakotay," she whispered.  "You have no idea how much that means to me."  He kissed her, and then let go, meshing his fingers with hers.  They turned to watch the rest of the sunrise together.
 
 
 

"You called, Captain?" he asked.

"I think that I'm going to need some help," she turned to look at the bathtub, remembering how she had been forced to accept his help when she had tried to get up off the ground on her own when they finished watching the sunrise.  "I don't think that I can get into that bathtub alone."

"Hmm..." he pulled away, turning to pull back the shower curtain:  "Well, I could always build a crane..."

"Chakotay!"  He turned, worried that he had hurt her feelings:  she could see the relief in his eyes when he realized that she was laughing.  She moved to stand next to him:  "I guess that I am huge," she admitted.

"No, you aren't," he said seriously.  "You aren't fat, Kathryn."  She smiled:

"I'm not?"

"No," he replied.  "You're beautiful."  She looked up, surprised:

"No, I'm not," she denied, completely serious.  She had known since she had been a child that she would never be beautiful.  Her sister, with her curly dark hair, was beautiful.  Seven, with her perfect body and shiny blonde locks, was beautiful.  Even B'Elanna, with her distinctive forehead and cheekbones, her full lips...  But her?  Never.

Chakotay lifted her chin, his eyes searching hers:

"Yes, you are, Kathryn.  You're absolutely the most beautiful woman that I've ever seen.  I'm a very lucky man."

"Chakotay, I'm not..."

"Not what?  Tall?  Super blonde?  Hourglass shaped?  That's not what makes someone beautiful."

"Chakotay..."

"Don't," he stated firmly.  "You are beautiful," he repeated.  "You have this aura of calm and compassion...  You walk is as if you're gliding on air..."  She laughed at that image now:  all she could manage right now was a waddle:

"What else?" she asked.  He took her hands in his:

"Your soft hands... they lend strength to whoever needs it," he lifted his eyes to meet hers.  "Your incredible eyes are the clearest blue.  Your hair..."

"Is a mess," she lifted a hand to comb through it.

"No:  no, it's not.  It's you."

"You have no idea how hard it is to keep it from standing straight up," she noted.  "It's stick straight, it's thick, sometimes I think that it must have a life of its own."

"That's exactly what I mean," he replied.  "Only you know how to control that energy, to shape it into something incredible.  You contain it all with ease."  She was stunned by the passion in his words:

"Why are you saying all this?"

"Kathryn, just because you are unique doesn't mean that you're ugly.  I don't want you to ever tell me that you aren't beautiful:  you are, very much so."  She looked down, wishing that she could see her feet.

"Short, scarred, me?"

"Yes," he stated soberly.  He caressed her cheek, his thumb brushing against the scar on her lower lip, the one she had had since childhood:  "especially short, scarred, you."  Her eyes met his, then closed as he leaned down to kiss her.  He wrapped his arms around her, and she laid her head against his shoulder.  Her back spasmed.  "Kathryn," his hands had been on her back, he could feel the tension there...

"I'm alright," she answered.

"No, you're not..."  She pulled away:

"It's gone now."

"Your back is in knots, why didn't you tell me that it was this bad?"

"Are you offering to help?" she asked.

"Anything to help my lovely wife," he answered.

"Hmm," she pulled back the shower curtain:  "A hot shower and massage would be nice."  He smiled:  "We have to hurry if we're going to make it to breakfast," she continued.  "And why not kill two birds with one stone?" she paused, suddenly shy:  "Join me?"

"Alright," he agreed.  He stepped back, pulling off his shirt, then noticed she was still watching him.  He tried to do his best impersonation of her Captain's glare, hands on his hips:  it didn't work very well.  She tried not to laugh:  "Turn around, Kathryn."  She complied, but not without laughing:

"What?  The powerful Maquis Captain is embarrassed?"

"And don't look in the mirror, either."  She heard some rustling behind her, and started undressing herself.  She managed to slip out of her shoes, her pants, but was having trouble with the dress.  It was amazing to her how much she had filled out what had been a tent only days before.

Chakotay's arms slid around her, and he pulled the dress over her head with one motion.  Before she could turn to look at him, he had picked her up and lifted her into the tub.  He climbed in behind her, closing the curtain.  She turned on the water, adjusting the temperature, then turned on the spray, turning her back to it before it could spray her in the face.

She was face to face with Chakotay, and couldn't move out of the way before the cold blast hit her back.  He smiled at her, and she leaned against him as the heat returned to the water.  He reached around her, rubbed her back.

She leaned her head back for a moment to get her hair wet, then picked up the shampoo.  Chakotay grabbed the bottle:

"Let me," he requested.  She turned around, his hands making sure she didn't slip and fall.  He poured some of the shampoo into his hand, then started to massage her scalp.  She inhaled appreciatively:  she couldn't remember her scalp ever feeling so stimulated yet relaxed.  He moved on to her neck, rubbing the stiffness away.  He had to pull farther away to retrieve the body wash, to begin to massage her back.  His hands worked wonders with her muscles, and she could feel the pain in her back almost disappear.  She leaned farther under the water, giving him more access and allowing the warm liquid to pour down her, rinsing her clean.

He had been humming, and now he started to sing:  something about having words to make a beautiful day for her.  She had never heard the song before--had never heard him sing before--and turned around so she could watch him.  Chakotay smiled shyly, continued soaping her tummy.  He knelt down to sing to the baby, repeating the words.

"Why haven't you ever sang for talent night?" she asked him.

"What?" he asked, pausing in the middle of his amazing rendition.  She smiled, lifted his chin, causing his eyes to meet hers:

"You do have a wonderful voice," she acknowledged.  "You should perform sometime."

"I don't think so," he replied, standing.  He shivered, and she realized that he must be cold.

"I'm sorry."  His eyes met her again:

"Don't be," he smiled.  "I'm helping you, remember?  Not your fault that I'm not getting any hot water."  She slugged his arm:

"Switch," she told him.

"I don't think so," he replied.  "I just got your back relaxed, and I'm not about to let you get cold and tense again."

"It's my turn," she told him firmly.  "That's an order, Commander."  He sighed, but gave her a half smile:

"Alright, but just for a little while."  He hopped out of the back of the tub.  She turned as he climbed in on the other side, slipping in between her and the water.  She backed up to give him room, and could immedietely feel a draft:

"Chakotay, why didn't you say anything?" she asked him.  "You must have been freezing."

"I didn't want to ruin your shower," he replied.  "No use in both of us being miserable."  She shook her head:

"Misery loves company," she told him.  She grabbed the sponge and started soaping him up, admiring his strong, smooth chest.  She didn't feel embarrassed about staring at it as she had the morning they had found themselves alone in a cell together.  Now she allowed herself to appreciate it, ignoring the way she was starting to shiver.  Chakotay gently grabbed her wrist:

"You should get out," he looked concerned.  He lifted his other hand to touch the goosebumps on her shoulder.

"I don't want to leave you," she told him softly.  He took the sponge from her, setting it aside.  He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.  She stepped closer to him, allowing their bodies to touch, rubbing his chest.  "You're beautiful, too," she told him.  He shook his head, but she stopped him before he could object:  "Yes," she assured him.  She paused:  "I'm the lucky one."  She shivered again, and he kissed her.
 
 
 

Now he knew that she had meant for him to have that bootie.  Question was, what did it mean?  He had never heard of such a word before in his life.  The closest word that he could think of was smiley, and that made just about as much sense.  He knew that Kathryn wasn't always the best speller, but he didn't think that she'd make a mistake spelling a word as simple as that.

He knelt by the dirty clothes they had dropped into a pile together, pulling the bootie out the pocket of the pants he had worn the day before.  It wouldn't do to lose this:  he pulled on his clean pants and slipped it into his new pocket.  He turned at the sound of a knock on the door:

"Chakotay, are you going to be in there all day?  I'm hungry."  Kathryn:  he went to open the door:

"I'll be right out," he told her, shirt in hand.  She smiled, kissed him:

"I missed you already."  She went back into the other room, not mentioning the mirror.  He followed her, and the bootie was immedietely put out of his thoughts:

"Kathryn, what did you do?!?"  She sat on a bed, glancing at the other two:  all of them had been returned to their original positions.

"I made the beds," she told him.

"But you shouldn't be moving heavy furniture," he knelt beside her.  "Are you alright?"

"I didn't move the beds," she told him.  "Chakotay, I may want to be independent, but I'm not stupid.  I would never do anything to hurt the baby," he looked to her in confusion, and she smiled:  "Tom and Harry moved them:  B'Elanna sent her husband to see if we'd want breakfast in bed."  He leaned back on his heels, relieved.  She reached out a hand to touch his cheek, and he took it into his hand, holding onto it tightly:

"Don't ever do that to me again."  He sat down beside her, smiling as she lay down, pulling him down with her.  She tried to kiss him, but he pulled away, noticing the bed again:  "Kathryn!"

"What?" she forced herself into a sitting position.

"What did you do to this bed?"  The blankets had been tucked in tight enough to bounce a strip of gold pressed latinum off of.  Kathryn laughed.
 
 
 

It was hard to slow down for her:  he stopped, offering her a hand.  She shook her head, but took it, meshing her fingers with his.  He smiled:  she wouldn't accept his help, but she would hold his hand.  He wasn't sure whether to feel rebuffed or encouraged by this turn of events.  It was, however, enough to remind him to walk at her pace.

He felt a bit self-conscious, walking hand in hand with the Captain in front of the rest of the crew.  They all passed with smiles on their faces, most of them greeting them with a "Captain, Commander," or a "Congratulations."  He realized that most were in a good mood:  and why shouldn't they be?  Everyone was full of hope that the evening's escape would be successful.  He just hoped that they wouldn't be disappointed.

They were still holding hands when they arrived at the mess hall.  He turned to watch Kathryn as they fell into the back of the chow line and was once again captivated by her beauty.   She dropped her hand, and rubbed her back, pushing her tray along with her free hand.  She moved the same hand to rest over the child she carried within.  She was very obviously with child, but that only drew her to him more.  All he could think about was how attracted he was to her and how much he loved her.

She turned to look at him, and he blushed  She had caught him staring.  She waddled on, and he tried not to laugh:

"What?" she asked.

"Has anyone ever told you that you were cute?" he asked.

"Not if they wanted to live through the day," she turned away, placing her hand on her back again.  His hand joined hers as they moved on, and he found that her muscles were just as tight as the had been an hour ago:

"Kathryn?" he asked.

"It's fine, Chakotay," she insisted.  He knew that she wasn't being entirely truthful, but didn't push her:  he dropped the subject.
 
 
 

"It's not my fault that I actually got some rest," Kathryn noted.

"No, but it is your fault that you're almost ready to pop and I'm going to have to wait another month."

"B'Elanna, I don't think that the Captain is capable of controlling genetics," Tom observed.

"Shut up," she answered.  "Or I'll start blaming you.  After all, this really is your fault."

"My fault?  What did I do?" Tom tried to console her.  Torres shot him her best death glare, which didn't compare to Kathryn's in the slightest.  On Tom, however, it worked great:

"I'm never letting you touch me again."  Tom scooted away, startled.  Chakotay smiled.  Kathryn tried to put a sympathetic expression on her face, but wasn't very successful:

"Cheer up, B'Elanna:  we'll be leaving soon," she cajoled.  That smile was creeping up again.

"That's what I'm complaining about," the half-Human half-Klingon woman replied.  "It's just not fair."

"Think of it this way, B'Elanna," Chakotay interrupted:  "You're only going to be pregnant for about another month.  You get to have a baby in forty days instead of forty weeks."  Torres sighed:

"I hate you, Chakotay, I really do.  I'm in a perfectly rotten mood and then you try to infect me with your cheerful disposition."  Chakotay could tell without looking that Kathryn was trying not to laugh.

"I didn't know that I was carrying a disease," he rebutted.  Kathryn burst out laughing, and Chakotay shot her a smile.  B'Elanna was steaming mad.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked as he sat down.  Chakotay pulled on his ear, trying to look innocent.  Kathryn cracked up again.  "Captain?"

"It's nothing, Harry," she answered.  "Nothing at all."
 
 
 

"Seven, it's not going to hurt me to do a little cleaning," Kathryn answered as she wiped the bathroom mirror.  "Besides, how polite would it be to leave our cabin a mess?"

"I doubt that our captors are concerned with such niceties," B'Elanna commented from the next room.  Kathryn sighed as she finished the bathroom window, allowing her hand to move to her back, trying to rub away the tightening that was back.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Seven asked.  She turned to smile at the younger woman:

"I'm fine, Seven."  Truth be told, she was discovering that her back's once dull ache was beginning to get a bit more insistent if she wasn't always moving.  She moved on into the bedroom next.

"Good thing we won't be sleeping here tonight," B'Elanna patted the bed:  "I don't think I could get the blankets untucked."

"I just wanted to see if I'd lost my touch," Kathryn told her.  B'Elanna shook her head:

"Believe me, I don't care if I ever make another bed that meets Starfleet Academy regulations again."

"Apparently the Captain hasn't lost her touch," Seven observed dryly.  B'Elanna laughed:

"That was actually kind of funny, Seven."

"I'm glad you approve."

"I think I should wash the floors," Kathryn stated aloud.

"No, Kathryn, you're going to wear yourself out," Torres scolded.  "You need to save your energy... how in the world do you do this?"  Kathryn sat down next to B'Elanna, who was trying to learn how to knit.

"Here, let me show you..."

"I'm never going to get the hang of this," the engineer lamented.  "Align a warp core, I can do; knit a blanket for my baby, I cannot."

"Maybe you should take up crocheting instead," Kathryn suggested, standing.  "Most people find it easier."  She looked out the window, hands on her back.  B'Elanna stood, and stepped in front of her, blocking her view:

"I can't do this...  How am I supposed to learn how to crochet?" she asked, her own round tummy touching Kathryn's.

"It appears that you have plenty of time," Seven replied from her seat.  B'Elanna turned to face her:

"Don't remind me," she answered.  Kathryn sighed.  Between her back and B'Elanna's moodiness, it looked like it was going to be a long day.
 
 
 

"Hello, my husband," she answered before offering him a quick kiss.

"Tom..." B'Elanna pushed past him and Kathryn toward her own husband.  Paris turned to face his wife, only to find her wrapped around him.  He returned the hug a bit hesitantly, looking to Chakotay in surprise.  "I missed you."  Tom pulled away, but left his arm around his wife's waist.

"Let's get lunch," he shrugged to Chakotay before leading his wife toward the growing line.  Chakotay turned to Kathryn:

"Rough day?" he asked.  She shook her head:

"Don't ask," she replied.  She took his hand, and led him the direction that her helmsman and chief engineer and just taken.  They stood side by side in silence, simply enjoying each other's company.  This was still all incredibly new to both of them, being able to hug and hold hands in public.  He wasn't complaining, though.  In fact, he was reveling in it:  he knew that as soon as they were back in uniform, Kathryn wouldn't stand for such public displays of affection (at least not while they were on duty).  He was making the most of this while it lasted.

He noticed that Kathryn was suddenly very tense.  She lifted a hand to massage her back.  Moments later, she let out a breath that he hadn't realized she had been holding.

"Your back?" he asked quietly.

"Hm?" she asked.

"Your back," he repeated, stepping behind her and rubbing the place that she had.  "Still bothering you?"

"Off and on," she acknowledged.  "It's getting worse."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she assured him.  "I'll live with it."

"Have you been resting?" he asked.  "Or have you been running around like a captain with her head chopped off?"  She smiled but sighed in spite of his attempt to lighten the mood:

"It hurts more when I try to stay still."

"Maybe you should go to sickbay..."

"Why so they can keep me there for observation?" she asked shortly.  "If that happens we'll never get off this planet."  He knew that she meant 'we' as in her and the baby.  He tried again:

"I just thought..."

"Chakotay," she turned to face him, and he realized that he had pushed a little too hard.  But her anger melted when she saw the worry that he knew was evident in his face.  "I appreciate your concern, but I really don't think that's a good idea."

"I just thought that they might be able to make you more comfortable, Kathryn."  She laid her hand on his shoulder:

"I doubt that there's anything that they can do at this point," she told him softly.  "And even if they can..." she paused, shook her head:  "it's not worth the risk."  He sighed, knowing that she was right:

"Alright," he agreed.  "But tell me if I can help, okay?"  She turned back to her tray, looking over her shoulder, smiling:

"You know, you're pretty cute when you're worried," she teased.  "I'm going to have to remember that."
 
 
 

"You're one to talk," she replied.  "If I recall correctly, you and B'Elanna were making more than one person queasy a couple of days ago."

"Yeah, but that's my job," Tom replied matter of factly.

"You're supposed to be nauseating?" Seven asked, incredulous.  Kathryn chuckled.

"You're not the one who has to put up with him," B'Elanna replied, picking at her food.  Tom sighed:

"Don't you want some of my yummy gooey stuff?" he asked.

"I'm not hungry," she replied, pushing her plate back.

"Water?" he held out a glass.

"No," B'Elanna told him firmly.  Kathryn smiled sympathetically, and Tom turned back to his own meal.

Her breath caught in her throat:  her back was cramping again.  She leaned forward on her elbows, hoping that it would alleviate the pain.  It didn't.  Chakotay's hand discreetly moved to her back, his touch helping to ease her discomfort.  She cursed inwardly:  why did he have to be so aggrevatingly observant?  He leaned toward her, his lips tickling her ear:

"Breathe, Kathryn," he whispered, as if it were a secret between lovers.  It might be at that:  she wasn't exactly thrilled about the crew finding out that she was at the mercy of something as trivial as a backache.  She wished that she could focus on something besides the pain, but it seemed to flare up every half hour of so, suddenly rendering her unable to think about anything else.  She forced herself to inhale, taking as deep of a breath as she could, and found that it actually helped.  Chakotay's fingers slowly massaged away the pain, and she leaned back in relief.

Her unborn child squirmed in response, and Kathryn sighed:  this was not good.  She needed to use the lavatory:  quite badly, in fact.  It was as if the baby was sitting on her bladder.  His head probably was at that.  She turned to Chakotay, then to the rest of the table:

"Excuse me," she started to stand, Chakotay immedietely helping.  Now she hoped that she could make it across the room in time... she wouldn't even think about the crew's reaction if she didn't.  For the first time since she had been impregnated--well, almost the first time--she hated what was happening to her body.
 
 
 

"Interesting," she replied.  "I've gotten an entire row done on my knitting project and the Captain and I took a walk:  I wish that I would have stayed behind.  It's too uncomfortable to walk any distance."

"I see," Chakotay replied.

"Unfortunately, you don't," B'Elanna replied.  "You have no idea what it's like to feel like you've got a watermelon..."

"I think I get the point," Chakotay cut her off.  He was sorry that he had asked.
 
 
 

"Are you alright?" his voice startled her.  He was waiting for her, not in the mines:

"You're still here," she noted.

"It's raining, they told us to stay put.  And you're avoiding the question."

"What question?"

"Are you alright?" he stated each word, slowly, clearly.

"Fine," she told him.  He fell into step beside her:  "If I ever suggest having another child, Chakotay, remind me about backaches and repeated trips to the bathroom."

"The baby has dropped," he noted.

"What?" she stopped.  His gaze drifted downward, the shifted across the room:

"You're carrying the baby lower," he shrugged.  She glanced down at herself:

"Really?" she retraced her steps to the restroom, stepping in front of the nearest mirror.  She turned sideways, scrutinizing her profile.  Well that explained a couple of things...  She turned and left the tiled room again.  "Maybe," she admitted.

"Definitely," he replied.

"Chakotay, just because the baby has dropped doesn't mean anything.  In a normal pregnancy it can happen weeks ahead of time..."

"Or hours," he noted.

"Granted," she replied.  "But even if I am about to go into labor..."

"You're already in labor," he interrupted.  Kathryn sighed:

"One contraction, Chakotay:  one.  It's my back that's killing me."  He was about to cut her off, but she didn't give him in the chance:  "I am not in labor."

"You're experiencing back labor," he informed her gently.

"And just how would you know that?" she asked.

"My mother was our tribe's midwife."

"And that makes you an expert?" she fumed.  She sat down heavily:  it was beginning to become more obvious to her why B'Elanna was getting mad at Tom every time he tried to make her more comfortable:  Chakotay's similar sentiment was more than a little annoying.  "Alright, let's say that you're right..."  He might be, she granted him that:  "that doesn't mean that I should start doing anything differently."

"I'm not suggesting that you do," he had sat down across from her.  "But just for me, would you please tell me what that is , exactly?"

"Walking, cleaning, doing anything to try to relieve the pressure on my back..."

"Nesting," he supplied.

"Yes, I suppose so," she answered.  She inhaled sharply at another... contraction, she supposed.  It didn't feel like a contraction; contractions weren't supposed to hurt like this.  This was getting to be more than a little annoying:  she didn't want to think about how many hours she had of this ahead of her.

"Breathe, Kathryn," he said for the who-knows-how-many-eth time.  How could he be so annoying?  She forced herself to exhale slowly, then took another deep breath.  He was at her side now, but she pushed him away.  The last thing she wanted was for him to touch her.

The pain finally subsided, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  Breathing did help, and she knew that Chakotay only wanted to help her get through this.  That was exactly what she wanted, so why had she pushed him away? His help was incredibly important to her, and she had rejected the very thing she needed.

"I'm sorry," she couldn't stop the tears from coming.  Oh, how she hated her lack of control.  Chakotay gently pulled her into his arms:

"It's alright, Kathryn," he comforted her.
 
 
 

"Yes, Ma'am," he joked, once again hoping to lighten the mood.  She smiled, but he knew that she really wasn't in the mood.  Her body was doing something that she couldn't control, and she seemed to fear that process as much as he was in awe of it.  Since he had pointed out what was happening to her she had tensed considerably, and that only made it harder on her.  She was worrying now, and he knew that she didn't want the crew to see her in such a compromising situation, not even the senior staff.

Chakotay helped her up the two steps, and they then proceeded into the room, both leaving their muddy shoes by the door.  Seven stood as they entered, placing her hands behind her back:

"Captain, Commander," she greeted formally.

"Seven," Chakotay returned.  Kathryn was intent on wringing the water out of her dress, but Chakotay couldn't see why.  It was hopeless:  she was drenched.

"I'm going to take a bath," Kathryn announced.  His suggestion:  Chakotay followed her to the bathroom.
 
 
 

She had desperately needed this.  She had been starting to lose her nerve, and needed to recollect herself before she lost all semblance of control.  It wouldn't do at all for her to be stressed while she was in labor and trying to lead an escape attempt.  She knew that it would hinder her leadership abilities, and vaguely remembered reading something about tension slowing the birthing process as well.  Simply put, she needed to be focused on both of the tasks at hand.

Her first contraction surprised her.  The heat helped her back immensely, and she could actually feel her uterus tightening now.  The contractions didn't hurt:  which wasn't to say that they were easy.  They were definitely starting to become harder, closer together--after all, labor is, by definition, work--but as long as she stayed calm, breathed through them, it wasn't anything that she could handle.  Yet, she told herself.  She would definitely need Chakotay's calming presence later on.

"You alright?"  Chakotay, checking up on her again.  She didn't mind near as much as before.  He knelt next to the tub:  "You look like you're doing a lot better."

"I am, thanks to you," she told him.  "Thank you," she added more softly.

"For what?" he asked, a bit amused.

"For being here for me," she replied.  "For everything that you've already done:  that you're going to do," her voice wavered at the end:  another contraction.  Chakotay offered his hand, but she didn't notice at first, was totally focused on what was happening to her body.  She accepted his hand when it was over, and squeezed it as if to say that it wasn't so bad.  He squeezed back:

"How far apart?" he asked quietly.

"Ten, fifteen minutes," she wasn't sure:  she couldn't exactly ask the computer for the time.  "A while yet," she smiled.

"Ready to be captain again?" he asked.

"Do I have to get out?"

"Not yet," he smiled.

"Then fine."

"Seven has discovered that the weather here is controlled."  Kathryn sat up straighter:  science was something that always caught her interest.  "The rain was programmed for this afternoon."

"Do you think that they suspect?" she asked.

"Maybe," he admitted.  "It might have just been scheduled:  it hasn't rained here since we arrived.  One thing is for certain:  it will be a lot easier for them to track the crew through the mud."  Kathryn nodded her understanding:

"What about the guards?"

"Tuvok thinks that its been about doubled," Chakotay supplied.  Kathryn nodded:

"Not surprising."  She studied her husband's reaction to the news he had just given her:  "You're worried."  He nodded:

"I wish that we could wait."

"Hey," she offered a hand of support:  "We can't sacrifice the present waiting for a future that may never happen."  He nodded his understanding.  "It's tonight or never," Kathryn stated firmly.  "Are you with me?"  Chakotay actually smiled:

"I thought that I was the one who is supposed to be making you feel better."  Kathryn shook her head:

"No," she told him softly:  "We're in this together."
 
 
 
On to Day 9 ~ Escape