by Dakota

Chakotay looked up from his book. He sighed as he closed the book and stood. He was due at the captain's quarters for dinner in ten minutes. He paused to think – yes, tomorrow was her day off, not that she ever actually used it to relax. Twice a week, the night before her day off and the night before his day off, she would ask him to dinner. Every week. Regular as clockwork unless there was some crisis. Eight dinners a month that weren't business.

Chakotay carried the book to his bedroom and put it on the nightstand. He considered changing into casual clothing but decided against it. He made a point to change when they had dinner for other reasons – like after their brief alliance with the Borg or after they found the Equinox. She made a point to ask him to dinner whenever they had major disagreements about command decisions. Those dinners he understood. They helped restore the balance in the command structure.

But these other eight dinners each month, he didn’t understand. At first, they made sense. They used the time in the first year of their journey to get to know each other individually and as officers. He learned about how she preferred to run her ship and he made sure she understood his opinion on many things, major and minor. These dinners had helped forge their friendship.

Now, after six years, they served that purpose no longer. They hadn't in a very long time. Since the third year of their voyage, the only thing Chakotay could see they accomplished was to remind him of what he couldn't have. He loved her and she knew it. He knew she knew it, not because he had told her but because once, years ago, he had seen the knowledge in her eyes.

Did she love him? Once he would have said yes. Now, he had no idea. Had he seen what she truly felt or only what he wanted to see? Whatever she felt was hidden behind her eyes. When she looked at him, did she see only her friend or did she see someone who was much more to her.

Chakotay shook his head and shrugged into his uniform jacket. Maybe he should turn down the invitations. He knew he wouldn't, but sometimes it made him feel better if he pretended he could.

Why did she ask him to dinner? Was it because she wanted more and this was all she allowed herself? Was it because she knew he still loved her and thought this would make it easier on him? Chakotay had no idea. All he knew was that the dinners with Kathryn were almost harder than eating alone in his quarters. He hoped he hid from her the pain he sometimes felt while they were eating.

He smoothed his jacket and headed for the door and the sweet torture of the next few hours. Did Kathryn have any idea how hard it sometimes was on him? Being with her alone yet not being with her? As the door to the corridor opened, he settled a smile on his face and headed for the captain's quarters.

While Kathryn cleared the table and got their coffee, Chakotay wandered over to the view port. The stars passed with tedious regularity.

"You've been quiet all evening. If you were anyone else, I'd say you were morose."

Chakotay turned to look at Kathryn. He took the cup she held out. "I was just thinking. I'm sorry I'm not such good company tonight."

"I didn't ask you to dinner to entertain me." She motioned toward the couch. "Care to talk about it?"

"Why did you ask me to dinner?" Chakotay asked as he sat down.

Kathryn looked up from sipping her cup. She set the cup carefully on the table. "You know, I'm not sure I know. We've been doing this for so long, I'm not sure there's still a reason. Do I need a reason to ask you to dinner?"

Chakotay shook his head. "No, you don't need a reason." He set his cup down and stood up. "I'd better go. Like I said, I'm not good company tonight."

He stopped and turned at the door. "Thank you, Kathryn. Good night."

Chakotay tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and asked for whiskey from the replicator. He had just picked it up when the chime sounded. He sighed in frustration. It could only be one person.

"Come in, Kathryn." He turned back to the replicator, recycled the whiskey and ordered coffee for two. He carried both cups over to her and handed her one.

"You left rather abruptly. I'd like to know why."

"I'm just in a strange mood tonight. That's all. I'm sorry I ruined your evening."

"You didn't ruin my evening." Kathryn sipped her coffee. "But your abrupt departure bothered me. You never did say why you were so thoughtful."

"It's nothing important. Like I said, I'm in a strange mood tonight."

Kathryn seemed to accept his statement as she leaned back into the couch sipping her coffee. After a few minutes, she broke the silence. "I wasn't quite truthful with you earlier. I do have a reason of sorts for asking you to dinner."

"You don't have to explain. You're my friend. That's reason enough."

"Once long ago, I saw something in your eyes when you looked at me. For a lot of reasons that seem foolish now and others that I no longer consider important, I refused to acknowledge what I saw. If I didn't see it, it didn't exist.

"Well, over the years, I changed. My values and priorities changed. I haven't seen that look for many years but I'm still hoping someday it will be there again. Having dinner is my way of having an hour to see if I can find it. When you left tonight, I thought perhaps it was gone forever."

"Why haven't you just asked?"

"I'm not sure. Fear maybe. Or pride. Admitting I may have made a mistake is not my strong point."

Chakotay took her cup and set it next to his on the table. Gently he tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. "Look now, Kathryn. Tell me if you see what you've wanted to see."

He watched as Kathryn searched his eyes and knew that for the first time in years she saw the love he had hidden all too well. A smile spread across her mouth as he lowered his lips to hers.