Chapter Text
September 9, 2372
Steam rose from the bath water with curling, inquisitive fingers before disappearing into the heavy, late summer air. Tonight the sky was clear, dappled with millions of stars and cut with a swath of purple running through the blackness. I leaned my head back against the towel I had folded on the rim of the tub and studied the pattern of stars, letting my mind form connections between them. There were almost too many too close together to see any obvious constellations among them, to find order amid the chaos, but there, that grouping of could almost be a dog if you connected the dots, and that bright star the ball he was eternally chasing across the sky. And there, that larger cluster looked like the stallion that was my animal guide, rearing and pawing at the sky. I briefly wondered if Chakotay’s own animal guide could be found up there in the stars, and then wondered, not for the first time, as to the nature of his guide. Speaking the name of one’s animal guide to another was insulting to the guide, or so Chakotay had told me when he had first taught me about vision quests and the animals that guided us through life. And so, I knew only that his guide was female.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath of lavender-scented steam, letting the heated water relax my stiff muscles and flagging mind. I had spent the entire day hunched before my computer console, completely immersed in research, not bothering to come up for air until Chakotay laid a heavy hand on my shoulder, shaking me from my investigations.
“Dinner’s ready,” he had said, then added with a knowing smile that negated the gentle chastisement in his tone, “I’ve been calling you.”
When I had pushed my chair back, I found myself unable to stand completely straight and had to spend several minutes stretching and loosening my stiffened back before I could walk without hunching over. I didn’t miss Chakotay’s sympathetic yet reproachful look in my direction as I finally made my way to the table.
After we ate, I let the tub fill while we washed and put away the dishes, and then changed into a bath robe and went out to enjoy my bath. The trees and the night provided a curtain of darkness behind which to strip off my robe before I lowered myself, naked, into the hot water.
Voyager had left us with a brand-new water well, waste reclamation system, solar panels, replicator, a shuttle, and everything I needed to continue the Doctor’s research into the disease we had contracted; everything we could possibly want or need, except a bathtub. I hadn’t been serious when I made the comment about the lack of one to Chakotay, but he had taken me at my word and built one, carving it and running the plumbing in secret during the first two weeks of our stay. A bath was my favorite way to relax, but the wooden tub Chakotay had built was more than a simple bathtub. Perfectly smooth and layered with different colors of wood, the deep soaking tub was a work of art. The bathroom in the Starfleet emergency shelter was not big enough for more than a small sonic shower so Chakotay had set the tub up outside the shelter near the tree line, and nearly every night since he had surprised me with it, I had taken to luxuriating in hot water scented with oils or salts. A long soak never failed to inspire new hypotheses.
The air was thick with the heady scent of night-blooming flowers and filled with the gentle humming and chirping of the native insects. The planet was a small approximation of Earth, orbiting a single yellow sun in a seven-planet system. There was no sentient life here, no animals larger than small primates, as far as sensors could tell, but it was rich in edible planets, its soil suitable for growing a variety of vegetables, and an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere made it perfect for supporting human life. We had named it New Earth our first week here. And relaxing amid the topical plants, listening to the cricket-like chirps of the insects, I could almost pretend we were simply camping on the real thing instead of trapped on this facsimile.
“Chakotay, are you there?” I called.
His answer came from somewhere at the back of the shelter. “No, I left an hour ago.”
I laughed quietly to myself. Chakotay had the absolute worst jokes, but damnit if he couldn’t make me laugh with them.
“I was thinking,” I said, keeping my voice raised so he could hear me. “Maybe looking for protein cofactors is the wrong approach. Even if I can't find a specimen of the insect that infected us, I could try to learn something about the bio-molecular evolution of this planet's ecosystem.”
“Couldn’t hurt to give it a try,” he called back.
After more than three weeks, I was still no closer to finding a cure for the disease that kept us imprisoned on this planet. The Doctor had provided me with his preliminary research and trials before Voyager had continued on their journey without us, but the information had long since proven ineffectual.
Almost six weeks ago, Chakotay and I had led an away team to scout for polyferranide on the planet. Well, Chakotay had been overseeing the operation, and I, needing a distraction from my own guilt (or so Tuvok had told me), tagged along. It had been three days since I’d forced Tuvix to submit to the separation procedure. Three days since I had effectively killed a man to save my crewmen, my friends.
Separating Tuvok and Neelix had been the only option with the time and technology available to us. The ship needed both men, separate, and I knew that if given the choice, Tuvok and Neelix would want to live their own lives. Separation was imperative, logical, a necessary correction to an unfortunate accident. But that didn’t make the decision any easier to live with. It didn’t wash the taste of guilt from my mouth.
I could still hear his voice in my dreams, begging me for his life.
Necessary.
When Tuvok had suggested that I join the away team, I’d tried to beg off, but none of my excuses—work, protocol—could trump Vulcan logic, and I found myself at the base of a mountain with the rest of the away team. They had already found the polyferranide and begun mining operations, so there was nothing for me to do. But I had to admit, being out in nature was calming, healing. Tuvok had been right to send me down.
Since the engineers and geologists had the mining well in hand, and Lieutenant Carey seemed comfortable leading the team, I had asked Chakotay to join me for a walk. Tricorder readings showed a river about five kilometers away and I wanted to explore it. We walked south towards the river, speaking of nothing in particular—for we had already exhausted pleasantries about the mining back at the site—but both of us were clearly happy to be off the ship, even if only for a little while. Chakotay alone knew somewhat of my guilt, having had to make a similar choice after the warp ten flight. He also knew me well enough not to mention Tuvix or the choice I had made, but nor did he pretend that it hadn’t happened. Everyone had been somber since Tuvok and Neelix were separated, the atmosphere on the ship exceedingly morose despite our joy at having our crewmen back, and appearance of the polyferranide on our sensors just days later had seemed fortuitous. We hadn’t been able to get any from the Drayans before misunderstanding had shortened our visit to their system, but this uninhabited planet had more than enough and several other precious minerals in abundance. Requests for placements on the away teams had greatly outnumbered available spots even though I knew Chakotay had approved more requests than was strictly necessary for the mission.
The landscape was beautiful, changing from imposing mountains to vast valleys between one step and the next, and everything covered in lush, vibrant foliage. It was easy to see why the crew wanted to spend some time here. The river, when we stumbled upon it, was wide and slow, so slow we didn’t hear it until we nearly walked into it, with smooth gavel beneath its clear water. We continued walking down-stream through the tall grasses and wildflowers flanking the riverbed, bright pollen collecting on our uniforms as we went. As we walked, Chakotay told me of Neelix’s request for a team to collect edible food stuffs, and Lieutenant Hogan’s disappointment at being denied a place on the mining team. He suggested that we remain in orbit for a couple of days and allow shore leave for those who wanted it. Watching the languid current of the river, I agreed and told him to see to the duty roster when we returned to the ship.
I don’t remember much of what happened when we transported back to the ship, but I do remember coughing. I remember the burning sensation in my throat and lungs, each breath feeling like I was trying to swallow broken glass, like knives tearing through my lungs. I remember falling to my knees, Chakotay’s hand on my heaving back. I remember he tried to call for an emergency transport before he too began to cough uncontrollably. I remember the pattern of the blood spatter on the transporter pad, and I remember the transporter feeling more painful than ever before. After that—nothing until Chakotay and I woke up on the surface seventeen days later.
A faint rustling drew my attention to the woods. It was too dark to see past the first line of trees despite the waxing moon hanging heavy in the night sky; the globe of yellow light cast by the shelter’s porch light made it impossible for my eyes to see any further. I scanned the area, but the sound had stopped. Then it was back, louder, closer.
“Chakotay!” I called, launching myself from the water. “There’s something in the woods!” Quick as I could, I scrambled out of the bathtub, grabbed my towel from the peg, and wrapped it around my body, dirt and leaves wet beneath my bare feet. I kept the tub between myself and the woods, where the sound was moving along the tree line. Sensors had indicated no life larger than a primate on the surface, but this star system was on the edge of Vidiian space and the knowledge had kept us wary.
“Kathryn!”
I turned to see Chakotay running from the shelter, naked as the day he was born, flashlight held in one hand, a phaser in the other, looking for all the world like a warrior charging into battle. I don’t know what I would have done if the rustling hadn’t picked up again, but it did, and I whipped back around to the trees, searching for the area where the sound was emanating. Finding it, I pointed up into the closest tree. “There.” My mouth was dry with fear, my voice coming as a whisper.
Chakotay followed my hand with the light to reveal a small, black and white primate sitting on a branch about halfway up the trunk. He’d obviously just landed on the limb as it was still bouncing slightly up and down. The primate glared at us for a moment before he screamed his displeasure at our scrutiny and jumped to the next tree. From there he continued from tree to tree until eventually the rustling of leaves and swaying of branches grew faint and then dissipated altogether.
I released a breath of relief, the absurdity of the situation causing a bubble of laughter to catch in my throat. Grinning, I turned to Chakotay who lowered his phaser. Fear and the ensuing hilarity had caused me to forget until I faced him once more that he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. In his haste to get to me he must not have paused to dress. Hurriedly, I spun back to the trees, one hand clutching the towel around me, the other automatically going up to my flaming face, shielding my eyes as if I had never seen a naked man before. But he wasn’t just any man: he was my first— No, he wasn’t that anymore. He was just a man.
And he wasn’t.
What we might eventually become to one another if I could not find a cure for our disease, I had not yet allowed myself to consider. But it had only been twenty-four days, and I had not given up hope that we would return to Voyager. Somehow. Some way. And so, even with the rank and protocol between us dropped, I had continued as if we were still captain and first officer. Friends.
But if I couldn’t find the cure…
I was reminded, in that moment, of just how very alone we were. We were each the other’s sole companion on this world. The implications of that fact were known but as yet remained unspoken between us. If I could not find a cure that would allow us to leave this planet, we would be together for the rest of our lives. Could I come to think of him as more than my first officer?
It wasn’t a question of attraction; I had always thought him beautiful. Even when he had materialized on my bridge as my enemy, phaser aimed at my chest, I had not been able to deny his beauty. And after eighteen months of working together, we had grown close. He was the closest thing I had to an equal on Voyager, the only one who could truly understand the weight of the responsibility of captaincy, a measure of the guilt that plagued me. He knew me better than anyone, even better than Tuvok who had been my friend for far longer. And sometimes, it felt as though he knew me better than I knew myself.
But his nakedness was a reminder that anything more than friendship was a line we could not cross. Not while the hope remained that we could get off this planet, back to Voyager, back to Earth. Home.
Slowly, I lowered my hand but remained facing the trees, hoping it was dark enough that even as close as we stood, he couldn’t see the blush staining my face and neck. I felt rather than saw his eyes travel the length of my body, leaving burning skin in their wake. My mouth grew drier. I swallowed hard and hitched the towel higher on my chest, the heat in my cheeks of a wholly different kind now. Still neither of us moved. I risked a glance at him, keeping my eyes firmly directed at his face, and found myself pinned by the weight of his stare. My breath faltered and my heart rate ratcheted up a notch as he looked at me with blatant desire. But just when I thought he might move closer, he stepped back, mumbling a hasty “Excuse me,” before all but running back into the shelter, leaving me standing there in the dark wondering what had just happened, and what the hell we were going to do about it.
***
“Maybe we should be out looking for other primates,” I declared upon entering the shelter. In my haste, I had slammed the door open, drawing Chakotay to the threshold of his sleeping alcove, now fully dressed, albeit haphazardly, in a rust-colored shirt and brown trousers. “I might be missing something important,” I explained as I sat at the table and opened my computer console, aiming to get started on this new angle right away.
Where is that PADD? Ah yes, there.
I had exchanged bath towel for modest robe, the garment not even securely tied about my waist before the spark of inspiration had sent me rushing towards the shelter, all thoughts of Chakotay and the feeling of his eyes on me driven from my mind by the potential for a breakthrough.
Chakotay sighed. “Kathryn, the Doctor worked for weeks trying to find a treatment for this disease.”
I looked up from my research notes and blinked at him, unsure what he meant. “Yes?”
He walked towards the table, arms crossed. “You've been at it twelve hours a day, seven days a week since we got here, and we're still no closer to a cure than we were the day we were infected.”
“I'm not sure what you're getting at,” I admitted.
He sighed again. “My people have a saying. Even the eagle must know when to sleep. Maybe it's time we both considered that.”
Oh.
“You mean quit. Give up.” I didn’t bother trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. This was not the first time he had insinuated the futility of my search and the improbability of ever seeing Earth again, but it was the first time that he had made the suggestion outright. Evidence of his disbelief was laid out outside the shelter in his workshop: doors for our sleeping alcoves. To make them feel more like bedrooms because we’d each appreciate some privacy eventually. As if the shelter weren’t temporary.
“Why do you have to see it as defeat?” he asked. “Maybe it's simply…accepting what life has dealt us, finding the good in it.”
Anger flared within me, lightning-bright and whip-quick, and frustration had me grinding my teeth. In that moment, I hated him. I genuinely hated him for his passivity, for his calm acceptance of our situation. I wanted to scream and rail at him. Good? What good? Didn’t he want to go home? Why would he want to stay here, in the Delta Quadrant, forever? The Delta Quadrant was hell, a hell I had relegated us to eighteen months ago. How could he simply accept it? I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. What “good” was here?
Immediately, I halted my thoughts, regretful. Chakotay did not deserve my resentment. He had been nothing but supportive and kind since we got here. Early on he had helped me set my traps in the woods and map their locations, and often he joined me to collect specimens. But he wasn’t a scientist. He couldn’t assist me with more than the simplest tasks of my research, and so he had made himself productive in other ways. Ensuring that I ate and slept and did what he could to make our lives as comfortable as possible. The bathtub for instance. And if I thought about it, a door on my sleeping alcove would make changing more comfortable.
There was good on this planet; Chakotay was here with me. He was my friend, a good friend whose company I enjoyed, a friend I did not want to lose. But I would not allow us to be stuck in the Delta Quadrant, the sole inhabitants of a lonely planet for the rest of our lives. Not while hope for a cure remained. I would keep looking. I had to keep looking. No matter how long it took. Failure, giving up, was not an option. I would get my crew home, every single one of them.
I swallowed my anger and frustration back down into the pit of my stomach and made sure my voice was as level as possible when I said, “There may be a day when I'll come to that, Chakotay. But I'm a long way from it right now. I need to keep looking.”
Knowing a lost cause when he saw one, Chakotay just smiled tightly and left the room.