disclaimer: not mine. *sigh*

rating/warnings: M/sex (though not explicit) and sex-related activities

notes: wow, two things in one night. Impressive. And rather shocking. Even more shocking is that I've finally written a proper Resolutions fic, not just a post-Resolutions fic. Aaanyway. I hope you all enjoy. And remember, reviews are like gold - they pay me, and they pay you by encouraging me to write more!

Thanks to cheile for betaing for me!

for the light of a sun

She comes to him in the darkness.

The night is sweet like honey. A hundred thousand stars glow against the arm of the galaxy overhead, and the moon hangs, swollen and heavy, on the tree-lined horizon, shedding a pale silver glow that lines the blades of grass and edges of leaves. The air is thick with the taste of blossoms and rich loam, of honeysuckle and rose and a hundred unknown, unnamed flowers. It is warm but not hot, and a light breeze dances between the boughs of the trees that whisper secrets to the earth.

It is a perfect night.

Chakotay wakes to the feel of her eyes on him. He sits up and looks to the doorway where she stands, immobile and unmovable. She is a silent statue of shadow against shadow, a goddess amid the darkness.

"Kathryn?" Chakotay asks, and her name is a prayer

"Did you mean it?" she asks.

"Did I mean what?"

"Your story," she says.

His answer is immediate and as certain as the day. "Yes," he says. "Every word."

She comes to him then. Her footsteps are light, and the shadow that is her is sweet against the darkness. She hesitates at the edge of his bed, and, looking up her can see her face, pale in the night.

Then she leans down and presses her lips to his.

"I have a story too," she whispers to him, for him, against him. "It's of a woman who had a withered, broken heart. But then she met a man as bright as the sun, and just as warm, and just as healing. And her withered heart found hope."

Chakotay reaches for her, touches her, and pulls her close. He kisses her again, and it is heaven and hell and purgatory; it is perfect, and it is terrifying and consuming. It is everything Chakotay had dreamed of, and more, for it is no dream-it is real, and there is no going back from it.

Kathryn climbs onto the bed, straddling his legs, which are trapped beneath the blanket. "Is this okay?" she asks, hesitating.

To answer, Chakotay leans forward and, cupping her head with one hand, kisses her for a third time.

She pushes him down, so that he is laying with his head on his pillow, and kisses him a fourth time. "You are my hope," she says inside the kiss.

"You are my peace," Chakotay replies, and, with a deft kick and roll, pulls Kathryn under him.

Chakotay's right hand drifts down as he kisses him-skims his fingertips against her neck, over her collarbone, down to the swell of her breast. He hesitates then, uncertainty and fear stilling his hand. She has been hurt before, he knows; he will not hurt her now, or ever.

"Please," Kathryn says, looking up at him with eyes that are shadowed by pools of night.

Chakotay sits up and, fingers latching around the hem of her cotton shirt, pulls it up and over her head. She flings it off of her arms it falls to the floor by the wall.

She is bare under it, and she now lies half naked beneath him. Chakotay's hands ghost against her sides, across her stomach, and over the swell of her breasts. His fingertips linger over her nipples, and then he leans down and licks, careful and gentle. He crosses to her other breast and sucks at the other one. She groans beneath him, the sound a mewl, and Chakotay smiles against her.

Her hands reach for his face, cup both sides of it, pull him up to her. "I want to know every inch of you," she says, fingers tracing the contours of his tattoo, then sweeping down his cheeks, over his lips, his chin.

He kisses her, their tongues sliding each other and exploring each other's mouths, teeth, lips against lips. Her hands reach for his shirt, and Chakotay straightens enough for her to pull it over his head. It falls to the ground beside hers.

For long moments, they are content-content to learn each dip and line of flesh and bone, on face, on chest, on arms. Chakotay presses a kiss to her palm, to her wrist, to her elbow, to her shoulder. Her fingers trace across his chest, memorizing each rib, each heartbeat.

"I want you," Kathryn says at last. "I want to know what you feel like in me."

He kisses her again; this kiss is sweet but not gentle, full of longing and need. Straightening Chakotay pulls her pants and underwear over her hips, and she kicks them off. Then her hands are at his waistband, and Chakotay cannot help the shiver of desire he feels at her hands brushing against his hips.

And then they are both naked. They are bare before each other, ghosts in the night, goddess and worshiper facing each other with all thoughts, desires, needs laid out between them. There is nothing-can be nothing-hidden.

"I need you," Kathryn says. "I've always needed you, in every way."

With a breath, Chakotay slides into her. She groans at the feel of him, and Chakotay shudders at the sound.

"I need you," Kathryn repeats. "Please…"

And so Chakotay gives himself to her. She groans in pleasure as he moves within her, and at her end she cries his name. It is a benediction to his ears, his body, his soul, and he finishes with a cry of his own.

Chakotay falls to the side, sweating and spent. For an instant, he feels Kathryn tense and gather herself, as if she is about to rise. Chakotay brushes his fingers across her hip, pressing a soft question into her skin.

She settles back down.

He gathers her to him, pulling her tight against his chest. She lets him, and after a moment she melts into his embrace. Chakotay buries his face in her hair, breathes in her scent, memorizes this moment of perfection.

"I love you," he whispers. "I always have."

Kathryn is silent. He can read the tension in her face though he cannot see her eyes-can see it in the crease of her mouth, the lines between her eyebrows. He can see it in her shoulders, can see it in the way she stands.

Softly, she says, "I can't. I...I'm sorry, Chakotay." She gathers herself and rises, reaching for her scattered clothes. "I shouldn't have-I mean I can't, I shouldn't…" She trails off, and turns.

"Kathryn," Chakotay says, sitting up, standing. He reaches for her, but his fingers fall short of her shoulder.

She turns back to him. Her eyes are still shadows, her face still pale in the night. She is his eternity, his grace, his future. She is his goddess.

"You don't have to love me," he says. "Just know that I love you."

She looks at him, and Chakotay cannot read her expression. Then, "It's not fair to you."

Chakotay shakes his head. "Damn fairness," he says. "You are enough-now, where you are. You don't have to be anything but you for me. I don't want you to be anything but you. And if that means you don't love me, that's fine. If you want me, that's all that matters. Do you want me, Kathryn?"

She is silent for a long moment. It feels like an eternity. Then, finally, she says, "Yes. I want you." She hesitates, then says again, an echo of before, "I need you."

Chakotay opens his arms in invitation. "Then come here," he says,

She crosses to him on hesitant feet, and then sinks into his arms. He wraps them around her, pulls her tight against his chest. Leaning down, he kisses her on the top of the head.

"You are enough as you are," he says. "You always were."

Her silence says she does not believe him. But that is okay, Chakotay decides. They have time, and he will tell it to her every day until she does believe.

"Come back to bed," Chakotay murmurs into her hair.

She nods her head, and allows Chakotay to lead her back to his bed. They lay down, Kathryn fitting against Chakotay like a piece of a puzzle long-made but long-forgotten. And they sleep.