A/N: Written for talsi74656's Prixin Prompt Competition, May 2017. Based on the following two prompts:

Chakotay begins to have hallucinations that are progressively getting worse. The Doctor seems sure there is no cure so he recuses himself from duty.

"You always do this. You always try to be the one who loses, who sacrifices. I'd have waited the whole seventy years from you, if you'd asked me to."
"I already asked so much of you. I couldn't do that."

Thanks to Mizvoy for the beta. Contains spoilers for "The Fight."

A Life Well Lived

By KJaneway115

1

"What should Daddy get?" The man in front of her held up his son to see the pastry case at the Night Owl. Kathryn couldn't help but smile as the adorable dark haired boy pointed at an enticing cupcake. She guessed the boy was two or three years old.

"Good choice," she said to the child.

He giggled and buried his face in his daddy's shoulder. "Sorry," the father said. "He's in a shy stage at the moment."

"It's no problem," Kathryn replied. "We all feel a little shy sometimes."

Hearing her tone, the boy peeked his head out from his father's shoulder and looked at her. Kathryn gave him a wink, and he rewarded her with a wide grin.

"Admiral?" came a voice from behind the counter. "Your coffee."

"Thank you, Antonio," she replied. "Enjoy your snack," she said to the boy and his father.

"Thank you," the father replied. "We will. Jack, say 'bye-bye' to the nice lady."

Jack gave Kathryn a timid wave which she returned with another wink. She took her coffee and found a small table outside. It was the first morning that year that was warm enough to sit outside, and she was determined to enjoy the beautiful weather, even if she had to work on this sunny Sunday. She breathed in the fresh air, sipped her coffee, and took out her PADD. But after only a few minutes of staring at the report, she put it down, allowing herself a moment to watch the people as they passed the cafe.

She glanced through the window, to the table where the little boy and his father were enjoying their morning snack. Who are they? she wondered. What does that man do, that he has a leisurely Sunday to spend with his son? Is he giving Mom a break? Or is she working? Or is he, perhaps, a single father? She dismissed the last possibility, hoping that the child had a mom at home who was enjoying a Sunday morning exercise class or brunch with her girlfriends.

Kathryn shook her head. You must be getting old, she told herself. You're getting more sentimental every day. It was true; she'd been feeling particularly sentimental about family lately. She missed her own family. Before Voyager's return, Phoebe and her husband and children had moved off planet, and Gretchen had followed to be near the grandchildren. Kathryn saw them a couple times a year, but she wished she could see them more often. She envied people like Samantha and Naomi Wildman, who had extended family on Earth and saw them regularly.

She had accepted, at this point in her life, that she would probably never have a family of her own. While she occasionally met men who were interested in her, she found them unable to match her in strength or intellect. They bored her; they had nothing to contribute to her life. They were full of praise for her accomplishments, but they could not challenge her and did not stand up to her. They had no strong sense of who they were; they merely wanted validation from her, and while their attentions might flatter her for a short time, she quickly grew tired of this type of attention. She had given up on the idea of a romantic relationship, content to focus on her work and spend time with her family, both biological and adopted from Voyager, whenever time permitted.

In spite of her quiet acceptance of her situation, deep in her heart, she longed for someone to share her life with. She didn't crave the grand romantic gestures that some of the men she met had offered. She longed instead for quiet Sunday mornings, sitting across from someone at the breakfast table, drinking coffee, reading the news, perhaps the occasional discussion of politics or policy. She longed for a quiet evening, spent in someone's strong arms, eating popcorn and watching a movie. But it couldn't be just any person; it had to be someone who understood her, but who would also challenge her. It had to be someone who wouldn't agree with everything she said or let her get away with all her bad habits, and who would love her even though he knew her faults. She wanted, just once in a while, to find strength in the man beside her, for his strength to reinforce her own.

She'd had that, she knew, for seven years on Voyager. Although she'd never spent a night in his arms, Chakotay had shared his strength with her and supported her, staying by her side and doing everything he could to lighten her burden. She had not made it easy for him; she knew this now, but he had not faltered. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she'd see his dark brown eyes looking at her. Even in her memories, she could see the deep affection he felt for her and the intense attraction he had tried so hard to hide. She could remember his eyes on her in the moonlight on a distant planet, recall the heat of his gaze when, clad only in a towel, she had called him out of the shelter to see who was in the woods. She could remember the first time she had locked eyes with him, stepping between him and Tom Paris on her bridge. She could remember how fast her heart had been beating, the instant connection sizzling between them. She could remember the look on his face when he took her hand and placed it over the akoonah for the first time, the terror in his eyes when he thought he was going to follow his grandfather down the path of insanity in Chaotic Space, the sparks that had ignited between them on the night before their failed slipstream attempt.

And then, the memories would grow too intense, and she had to shut them out, trying to forget everything she felt when she looked at him and the feelings that were plain to see in his eyes. She tried not to let herself think of Chakotay too often. Thinking of him made the longing in her heart grow into an unbearable ache. She knew that without him, an integral part of her life was missing, but she'd had to accept that perhaps this part of her life could never be regained.

After her promotion to admiral, Chakotay had been offered command of Voyager and had accepted. Tom Paris was his first officer, and B'Elanna had continued her role as Voyager's chief engineer. Their two children, Miral and Owen, Jr., were growing up aboard ship. Harry Kim and the EMH were also serving under Chakotay's command, along with Ayala, Baytart and many other members of Voyager's original crew. Voyager's refit had purposefully allowed for families to live on the ship, at both Chakotay and Janeway's insistence. Many of Voyager's crew wanted to have their families with them on board. The ship made periodic stops back at Starfleet Headquarters, but not often enough, and Kathryn missed them all. She shook her head; no need to wallow in self-pity. All in all, she had a good life, and she enjoyed her work. Perhaps that was the most she could ask for.

Remembering her work, she forced herself to focus on the PADD, but no sooner had she become absorbed in the report than her PADD lit up with an alert, an urgent transmission coming through from a Starfleet vessel. She was surprised; not many people had her personal comm frequency.

"Hello," she answered it.

"Thank Kahless."

"B'Elanna? What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you," Torres replied, peering at the screen. "Are you alone?"

"I'm out for coffee. Can you wait five minutes? I'll call you when I get home."

"Sure. Torres out."

Animated by sudden urgency, Kathryn asked Antonio to put her coffee in a to-go cup and rushed out of the coffee shop. Her mind raced; why would B'Elanna be calling her? Voyager was light years away, on a deep space mission. What could have happened that they would not be able to handle on their own? Was Miral sick? Were Tom and B'Elanna having marital problems? No, that didn't match the urgency of the call. Kathryn swallowed hard, not daring to consider the worst possibility, that someone from her crew was gone forever.

She walked quickly, grateful that it was only a few blocks to her apartment. After Voyager's return, she had moved into Starfleet housing and had never found the time or the motivation to look for another home. She entered her standard, sparsely decorated apartment and placed her coffee next to her computer terminal. She activated her comm and placed the call.

B'Elanna answered immediately. "Thanks for calling back so quickly."

"What's wrong?"

"Look, I don't even know if I should have called you. I just didn't know what else to do."

"Slow down, B'Elanna. Tell me what's going on."

B'Elanna took a deep breath. "It's Chakotay."

"What about him?"

"He's been acting strangely. But he's refusing to see the Doc. He insists there's nothing wrong, that he's just tired."

"What does the Doctor say?

"He managed to run some basic scans by finding an excuse to come to the bridge yesterday. He couldn't find anything wrong. But he'd need to do more in depth scans to be sure."

"What do you mean, Chakotay is acting strangely?"

"He's… I don't know. Sometimes he seems completely normal, like the Chakotay we've always known. And then sometimes he gets this look in his eye, like he's somewhere else. He's been short tempered lately, blowing up at junior officers for the smallest infraction. I'm not the only one who's noticed. Tom and Harry see it, too."

"Maybe it is just like he says, B'Elanna. Maybe it's just stress. I've had plenty of short-tempered moments myself."

Torres shook her head. "It's more than stress, Admiral. I've seen Chakotay under worse stress than this. He's never reacted this way before."

"All right. What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. Maybe some kind of alien influence? It started a couple weeks ago, just after we made first contact with a species called the Yintakans."

"I don't see how I can help. I'm light years away."

"Do you think you could find an excuse to come out here?"

"B'Elanna, I have work to do here in San Francisco."

"Work that's more important than your closest friend?"

Janeway grimaced. B'Elanna had known her too long; she knew exactly how to get to her. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

B'Elanna let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you, Admiral. I knew we could count on you."

"It's not a promise, Commander, but I'll do my best."

"That's good," B'Elanna replied. "Your best is always good enough."

Not always, Janeway thought ruefully, but she didn't voice the thought. "I'll be in touch," she said instead. "Janeway out."

Chakotay splashed cold water on his face and blinked rapidly. He couldn't seem to get enough rest. The days droned on and on with no respite, no break, no quiet moment, no time for himself. The endless work was wearing him down. He couldn't understand it, because Voyager's journey through the Delta Quadrant had been far more stressful than this mission, yet he had never felt this weary when serving as Kathryn's first officer.

Kathryn. Her name sent a pang of longing through his heart. He missed her. In spite of himself, he missed her. He missed talking to her and seeing her every day. He missed the way she made him laugh. He even missed the way she drove him crazy. He shook his head, admonishing himself. He must truly be exhausted. Normally, he was able to keep thoughts of his former captain at bay, but not today. He splashed more cold water on his face and looked into the mirror. He gasped, not seeing his own face, but instead seeing an old, wrinkled man staring back at him. "What the…" He blinked his eyes and peered into the mirror again. It was his own face. I must have imagined it, he thought, straightening his jacket. He left his quarters and headed towards the bridge. He stepped onto the turbolift. "Deck one." The turbolift began to move with a gentle hum, and Chakotay closed his eyes, resting his back against the lift wall.

The doors swished open, and he heard someone else enter the lift. "Captain," said a low, gravely voice.

Chakotay's eyes snapped open. In front of him was a Cardassian. "How the hell did you get here?" he asked.

"I just walked in from deck three. What's wrong, Captain?"

The Cardassian's voice seemed to mock him. "What are you doing on my ship?" Chakotay demanded. "What the hell are you doing on my ship?" The Cardassian loomed over him, reaching towards his belt for a disruptor. "No!" Chakotay shouted, slamming the imposter up against the turbolift wall. The Cardassian struggled against the attack, but Chakotay managed to pin him up against the turbolift wall, using his forearm to choke the bastard. The Cardassian struggled still more. Chakotay pulled him back from the wall and slammed him up against it again. "You don't belong on my ship. What the hell are you doing here, you bastard?" he shouted. He pulled back a fist and punched the imposter in the jaw, then watched him crumple to the floor. He should call security, he realized, just as the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge.

Chakotay reached up to tap his comm badge, but the world around him began to spin. Suddenly everything was blurry. "Chakotay to…" he managed as he stumbled out of the turbolift. He heard voices around him.

"Captain!"

"Harry! What happened?"

"Are you all right?"

The voices melded together in his mind as everything around him seemed to spin faster. "Chakotay!" he heard. Was it his sister's voice? "Chakotay, can you hear me?"

He tried to respond, to call out his sister's name, but the world was spinning too fast. He felt himself falling, falling, falling downward, and then, everything was black.