"Refractions"

The dim glow of the quarters' soft lighting seemed to amplify the shadows on Janeway's face, etching lines of fatigue and introspection. Her eyes, usually bright with a sense of purpose, now seemed subdued, lost in thought as she stared into the remnants of her cider. Chakotay watched her, his expression a mask of calm concern, his eyes never leaving hers. The silence between them was not uncomfortable, but rather a palpable presence, like the stillness after a storm. The cider glass, a small, forgotten relic of their journey through the fractured timeline, stood as a quiet testament to the surreal experience they had shared. Janeway's gaze drifted to it, her eyes tracing the curve of the glass as if searching for something lost. Chakotay's voice, low and soothing, broke the silence. "Kathryn?" He let her name hang in the air, a gentle inquiry, a check-in. Janeway's eyes lifted, and she offered a small, acknowledging smile. "I'm fine, Tom." Her voice was barely above a whisper, laced with a hint of distraction. Chakotay nodded, his expression understanding. He didn't press the issue, letting the silence settle between them once more. The captain's posture was tense, her arms loosely crossed, as if she was holding herself together. He recognized the signs; she was grappling with the aftermath of their journey, the weight of memories and what-ifs. As they sat there, the memories of their journey through time lingered, like an unspoken presence. Chakotay recalled the way Janeway's younger self had looked at him, with a spark of admiration and idealism. He remembered the way he had felt, drawn to her confidence and conviction. The memory still lingered, a bittersweet ache that he couldn't quite shake. Janeway's eyes drifted back to the cider glass, her gaze becoming distant. Chakotay sensed her withdrawal, her emotional boundaries shifting, recalibrating. He let her have the space, his presence a steady, reassuring force. The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of their shared experiences. Chakotay's eyes never left Janeway's face, his expression a reflection of his empathy and understanding. He knew that she was struggling, that the journey had left its mark on her. He also knew that she needed time, time to process, to reflect, and to heal. As the silence stretched, Chakotay's thoughts turned to the captain, to the woman he had come to respect and care for. He saw the lines of fatigue etched on her face, the tightness in her posture, and his heart went out to her. He wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but he hesitated, aware that sometimes the greatest comfort was simply being present. The stillness was broken only by the soft hum of the quarters' systems, a gentle reminder that even in the quiet moments, the universe continued to unfold, unchanged and unyielding. Janeway's eyes finally lifted, meeting Chakotay's, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the connection between them a living, breathing thing.