Kathryn entered the house into a cozy kitchen dominated by a round, blonde wood table in the center of the room. She could see a den area through one doorway and a hallway through another. When her boots echoed on the wooden floor, he came from the hall in a thick, short, gray bathrobe, rubbing his hair with a towel. He tossed the towel over a chair back and picked up a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the counter, passing her a look. "Thank you," she said as she laid her jacket in the same chair as his towel and then she sat on the other side of the table. He set a glass in front of her and poured the wine. "Holographic or synthehol?" she asked.
"Holographic. I didn't know I was coming here." He leaned against the counter beside her, his toned legs and bare feet drawing her eyes down his body involuntarily.
She sampled the wine and forced her eyes back up to his face. "It's good, anyway." She looked around the kitchen and what she could see through the doorways. "This is the house you grew up in?"
"Yes. The simulation is not as detailed as it could be, but it's close enough. I also programmed it to sit closer to the lake, but not by much." He looked toward the hallway. "Would you like to see the rest of it?"
She stood up and followed him across the hallway and into the first bedroom. There was a single bed and a worn, brown chair, but not much else in the room. "This was my father's room. I didn't bother to program a lot of the furniture in the house; just enough to make it feel like home." The next room was his sister's, the bed covered with a quilt of soft pastel colors, and then she saw a small bathroom. His bedroom, with a larger soft bed, and another bath were down a short hallway that ran behind the kitchen. They entered the den from the end, and she could see piles of pillows and a couple of woven blankets in the center of the room in front of a fireplace. There was also a large woven rug in bright colors that covered most of the wooden floor. "When I was a kid, I usually lay on cushions on the floor in here. That's why there's no other furniture. If you don't mind the pillows, we can sit in here, or we can go back to the kitchen."
"This will be fine," she said, settling onto a round red cushion. "This house feels very comfortable."
He lowered himself to a faded blue pillow, carefully keeping his robe closed as he did so. The top had loosened from the belt a bit and she could see the muscles of his broad, bare chest through the V of the wrap. He pulled a smaller cushion into his lap and set his wine on the floor. He looked down and said, "This was my favorite pillow as a kid. I don't know why, but I loved it. I always sat or lay on it when I was growing up. That's why it looks a bit worse for wear. I programmed it to look like I remembered it." His sheepish smile dimpled his face.
She grinned and said, "I have a blanket with a picture of dogs on it. My parents gave it to me for Christmas when I was four-years old. It's still at my mother's house. I miss it sometimes when I could use the comfort."
He nodded knowingly, and said, "Computer, activate fireplace, no heat." The flames danced across the simulated logs and cast a soft glow around the room. Quietly, he said, "My father had to seal off the fireplace after my grandfather almost set the house on fire twice. He thought he was building a bonfire in the woods. We tried everything to keep him away from it, but eventually the danger was too great that he could burn the house down and maybe hurt himself or someone else."
She studied him for a moment, the faraway look in his eyes tugging at her heart. "It must have been a difficult thing to deal with at a young age."
"I never understood him. I still don't. Two hyposprays a day would have been all he needed, but he refused to take the medicine. He preferred his own diagnosis of a wounded spirit rather than the medical knowledge of a genetic mutation. Instead of him accepting treatment, the whole village had to tolerate his ravings and wanderings. I would be left in charge of him some days when the adults were too busy. I would have to make sure he ate, try to keep him from wandering off, and make sure he didn't do anything dangerous. I was just a kid, and I resented him so much for that."
She watched as his fingers picked at the blanket beside him. She was beginning to understand that his experience with chaotic space was forcing him to face something with which he had never really come to terms: his feelings about his grandfather and the genetic disorder that ran in his family.
Chakotay continued. "The thing is, I don't know if what I experienced with the aliens is really anything like what he went through. The aliens deliberately turned on the gene and manipulated my hallucinations toward a purpose. My grandfather's delusions were random. If there is any similarity, though, I have a lot more sympathy now."
She reached between them and took his hand, something she only did in private and then, only rarely. "There probably are some similarities, especially in the way you felt at the beginning before you knew that there was a reason for what you were experiencing."
He toyed with the pillow in his lap, and his voice was almost a whisper. "I hate to think that my grandfather ever felt that alone."
She leaned toward him and gripped his hand tighter. "You were never alone, Chakotay. Even if it had turned out that your symptoms were occurring naturally, or the Doctor had not been able to turn off the gene again, I never would have left you to deal with it alone."
He squeezed her hand and finished off his wine. "I wonder if my grandfather knew that he wasn't alone. I did resent him and what I couldn't understand about him, but I still loved him. We all did."
"I'm sure he knew that," she said, trying to comfort him. "He did have some times when he was normal, didn't he? When he could understand what was going on around him?"
"Yes, he did. He would have whole days, sometimes up to a week, when he was himself. It was not until the very end that he entered a constantly psychotic state."
The computer's voice cut through the space. "You have fifteen minutes remaining."
Chakotay started to loosen his grip on Kathryn's hand, but she held to him and said, "Computer, is the time allotted after this program currently scheduled for anyone?"
"Negative."
"Computer, schedule out the next three hours, authorization Janeway-beta-five. Continue running current program."
"Time allotted."
"Are privacy locks still engaged?"
"Affirmative."
"Kathryn, you don't have to that," Chakotay said. "You should save your time for something you want to do."
"I am doing something I want to do." She smiled at him, her blue eyes reflecting the yellow flames of the fireplace. "I'm not due on the bridge until morning, and you are supposed to be taking a day or two off, anyway. You're always after me to take more time away from my duties. You aren't going to protest now, are you?"
He tightened his hold on her hand again and said, "Not if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
"Thank you. Would you like more wine?"
"Just a minute," she said to him. "Janeway to Lt. Tuvok."
"Yes, Captain?"
"You have the bridge and all non-emergency communications for the next three hours. I will be on the holodeck."
"Understood, Captain."
"Janeway out. Computer, transport a bottle of Cabernet from my quarters to my current location."
The bottle appeared on the floor just beside her. He shook his head at her and laughed. She grinned, her easy smile lightening his mood as only she could do. She asked, "Do you have a corkscrew, or should I have one created?"
"There's one in the kitchen drawer beside the outside door." She carried the bottle into the other room, found the corkscrew, and opened the wine. When she returned, Chakotay was lying back on the pillows. He had moved the cushion off his lap and crossed his ankles, his robe carefully arranged to cover him. She set the wine on the floor, untucked her shirt, and removed her boots before settling back down beside him. He handed his glass to her and she filled it, then refilled her own and tasted the wine. "That's better," she sighed.
"I thought you said the other one was good," he chided.
"Good for holographic wine, but this is better."
He chuckled and rose up on his elbow to drink from his glass. She gathered a couple of smaller pillows, fluffed the one she was sitting on, and stretched out on her back beside him. Their hands found each other again and his fingers wrapped over hers. From this angle, she could see the stars twinkling in the sky through the window.
"It's very quiet," she said.
"I decided to leave off the simulated wildlife. The animals in and around the lake can actually get quite noisy on a summer's night. Visitors from the trading station would often have trouble sleeping."
"I used to love to swim at night when we were at Lake George," she said. "There was something about being in the water in the moonlight with the stars in the summer sky so bright."
He turned his head and smiled at her. "That was one of my favorite activities, too. I would stay in the lake as long as I possibly could. My father would finally have to make me come out when he was getting ready to go to bed. Sometimes, I would sneak back out after he was asleep."
"Let's do it, Chakotay."
"Let's do what?"
"Let's go swimming."
"Really?"
"Yes. I can't remember that last time I went swimming, much less at night."
He wanted to ask just what she was planning to wear to swim in, but decided to wait and see what she did. He assumed she would have the computer create a bathing suit. "Alright, let's go," he said with a grin. "I'll be right out."
That answered her question. He had taken off the boxer briefs to let them dry, and was likely fully nude under the robe. She tried to push that image out of her mind and stood up. She wondered what to do now. She contemplated a holo-bathing suit, pants and tank, tank and underwear, and even for a split second, nude. She watched him walk into the hallway to his bedroom and made up her mind. She went directly outside and removed her socks, pants, turtleneck, and bra.
