...and Freedom
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.
Author's Note: I think I have developed the literary equivalent of Multiple Personality Disorder :) I have worked on so many alternating POV stories lately that I automatically start creating the other character's POV in my head!
Kathryn huddled on the merciless floor of the dank cavern and felt Chakotay's eyes on her as she had known she would. He was standing perhaps two or three feet away, just watching her quietly, making sure that she was okay.
She allowed herself an internal grin. He was always so concerned, so protective of her. Always her loyal First Officer and something infinitely more complex than her best friend. All evening, he had worked tirelessly, first to build the fires and then to position the sleeping arrangements so that everyone had access to a warm place to rest. Then he had made the rounds as the crew drifted off to sleep, checking the fires, speaking comforting words to those who were distraught, including Ensign Wildman whose concern over Naomi's health was mounting. He would be the last one to sleep and most likely the first one to rise in the morning. He was a selfless man, constantly putting the needs of others ahead of his own. Especially, she thought ruefully, guiltily, when it came to her.
And now he stood above her, his deep eyes regarding her, his last charge, his last responsibility before he finally, finally, allowed himself to rest. Even with her eyes closed she knew exactly how he would look. Broad shoulders silhouetted against the weaving light from more than a dozen small blazes, powerful yet infinitely gentle. His eyes dark and almost brooding in a face gracefully chiseled, all angled planes with the ornamentation of the tattoo spreading above his left eye. The clasped hands he held carefully in front of him, apparently at ease but also in bondage perhaps to the gestures they truly wanted to make.
She recalled waking up numberless times on New Earth and knowing he was there, watching over her. Maybe it should have disturbed her. But it had only made her feel safe.
It still did.
She felt him come closer and a welcome warmth spread across her upper body as he tucked something around her. His uniform jacket, she realized. He would rather brave the cold of a million dark nights on this planet than see her shiver. She felt unexpected tears flood her eyes and burrowed deeper under his jacket to conceal her emotions. He rose from her side and then seemed to hesitate, as if something was holding him in place. And then he was on the ground beside her, the contoured muscles of his body nestled carefully against her back. She felt his indescribable warmth, smelled the familiar yet intoxicating scent of him, and struggled to keep her breathing even and under control. She felt him relax and wondered if she could possibly do the same. But the enveloping heat of his body met the rigors of her day, and she felt the drowsiness gradually descend.
His breathing deepened, and without conscious thought, her breath met his in tandem, and she joined him in her dreams.
Kathryn woke hours later to a faint chill and knew he was no longer beside her. She kept her eyes tightly closed, not wanting him to know he had disturbed her. Then she felt his nearness again, his lips against hers, and she couldn't fully stifle her smile. She wished he would stay with her, even if only for a moment longer. Sometimes she wished he would fight a little harder, that he would make her realize that she was wrong.
Sometimes she wished he would help her find her freedom again.