SUMMARY: Chakotay lies in bed one night, thinking about Kathryn. Intended as a character portrait more than anything, J/C almost by accident.

Star Trek Voyager is the property of Paramount Pictures, which is the property of Viacom. Which, depending on which conspiracy theorist you believe, might be the property of an extra-terrestrial organisation which is quietly taking over the world. But the point is, Star Trek and all related characters aren't mine.

***

When I was younger, I hated waking up in the middle of the night. My mind would begin racing, and it would be hours until I would be asleep again. At the Academy, I'd lie there for hours listening to my room mate's breathing, wishing that, just once, I could be paired with another insomniac. My lovers, when they aren't complaining that I snore, are complaining that I keep tossing around in the bed, waking them up. Maybe that's why I've never managed a long term relationship.

At least on Voyager, I have company in my insomnia; Kathryn is usually awake. We end up in one of our quarters, drinking whatever cure for sleeplessness we've found since our last bout, talking about nothing in particular, or everything that matters. It doesn't matter, it's just enough to know that we're not lying awake alone.

Tonight, though, the computer tells me that Kathryn's asleep, so I'm on my own. It's okay, though, because, for once, I'm not worrying about anything.

It's quiet, the only sound is the quiet hum of the engines and the environmental systems. I lie in bed and think.

I love these quiet times, as long as they don't come too often. I don't feel alone, I'm not isolated. If I want to, I can seek out Neelix, who's probably still in the kitchen preparing breakfast, or take over Harry's bridge watch. I suppose I don't need Kathryn for company during these sleepless nights, but she's the ideal partner for long discussions. We can forget about the quiet activity on the ship around us and pretend that we're the only ones around. It gives us a freedom to show a different side of ourselves. We laugh more than usual.

I love Kathryn's laugh after midnight. It's rich and quiet, and secret. All mine, for now, at least. If we've given up on sleep altogether, we'll share a glass of wine and engage in idle flirtation. She smiles, a mischievous smile that suggests that she's entertaining a naughty idea. Or maybe it's just a trick of the starlight. We snuggle up on the couch and talk about old lovers. Our families. We don't talk about Starfleet much, apart from our early years. There's a lot of pain connected with the Cardassian war, for both of us, and telling those stories would taint our sessions together.

0100 hours. I go on duty at 0800. Seven hours to go. I could read a book, or meditate, but I prefer to think about Kathryn. Seems I've been doing that a lot lately.

I love her pyjamas. She wears silk, or satin, and it glistens, and in the starlight (or candlelight, sometimes), they match her hair and her eyes. Beautiful. My home colony was hardly lacking in necessities, but things like fine materials were considered luxuries. Our clothes were hand woven, with intricate beadwork and embroidery, and, lovely and cultural as they are, I love the feeling of satin or silk.

I love the feeling of Kathryn's skin.

I love Kathryn's cute smile as I relate my latest humiliation of Harry Kim. It should be disapproving, but it's a co-conspirator's smile. She knows I'll never hurt him, and I know she'll never let me. And one day, we'll get around to telling Harry that. I love the goofy grin on her face as she relates her latest attempt to restore Seven of Nine's humanity, but I hate the exhausted look she gets when Seven takes a step backwards.

I love the way she hugs me, something she'd never do during the 'day'. Little hugs, that don't really mean anything, but which mean so much.

I love the way she makes me feel peaceful. As though my past is gone, incapable of hurting me. As though the anger is gone.

That is a good feeling, and I can't imagine feeling anything but admiration for Kathryn's ability to bring peace.

I love Kathryn's courage, the way she will do anything to fight for her ship and crew. And I hate the way she cries over her every failure, with me desperately trying to keep her together until we have the time to deal with the grief properly. I love the way she does the same for me.

I love Kathryn.

I've been lying here for over an hour, when my door chimes. I step over my uniform, on the floor where I left it last night, and open it.

Kathryn. Standing in the doorway, wearing her dark blue robe over the green pyjamas she pinched off me on New Earth. Her hair is still tousled and her voice is still sleepy, but her eyes are awake.

"The computer said you were awake," she tells me, and holds up a plate of caramel brownies. Her contribution.

I smile. "I'll replicate some coffee," I say, and she steps inside and curls up on the couch with a brownie.

And we settle down and talk for a few hours.

END.

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Copyright © 1999 Elizabeth Barr

Star Trek ® is a registered trademark of Paramount Pictures registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office. Star Trek: Voyager is a trademark of Paramount Pictures.