He slept easily that night with the cool air bleeding in through the slit he called a bedroom window. The sounds of the forest – the gentle rustling of the leaves, the sounds of animals like the monkey they'd met in weeks before, and the bugs who only seemed to come out at night – soothed him and lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

Chakotay had gone to bed before her, leaving her like he usually did, with a nod and a warm grin. She would watch him leave, watch him behind the blurred glass as he threw off his shirt and trousers and fell into the narrow bed.

The sound of his breath and the subtle chirps of their new home seemed to centre her after the length of the day while her fingers tapped aimlessly on the console in front of her. She breathed deeply in and out, once and then twice as he eyes scanned the schematics on the screen.

She was compiling sensor data that Voyager had collected and sent to them before their departure. The planet's climates were uniformly distributed; much like they were on Earth, though nowhere was particularly inclement.

He began to snore behind the partition and for a moment she started to smile. It was a soft sound, new for him. Maybe she would tease him about it in the morning, but for now she would find her own rest. She wasn't tireless anymore… She wasn't anything anymore. And that thought, more than any other, put a pit in her stomach.

Her whole life she wanted to be someone. Armed with a commanding voice and a dogged tenacity, she fought to become something her father would be proud of. The thought of him brought dual feelings of affection and inadequacy.

Her father had never given her any indication that she be anything other than her best, but at the very same time she felt it wasn't enough – that he wasn't asking enough. And after the crash, after his death, she wished he had demanded so much more from her instead of the relentless kindness and encouragement that he constantly offered.

What would Edward have said if he was here now, seeing her like this? Would he have been similarly proud, or would he have been righteously disappointed at her many follies?

They were questions Kathryn thought on more than she should.

Chakotay's snoring kept up on the other side of the wall and for just a flashed moment, the sound was more annoying than it was endearing. He reminded her so much of Edward with his dogged kindness and the quiet strength that he exuded… He never asked anything of her, only offered that same quiet reassurance and support. But sometimes, she wished that he would push her – demand more from her. She wished he would tell her that her clinging to the hope of leaving here was foolish; she wished that he would tell her that the distance that she kept between them was irrational…

But just as soon as that rushed exasperation came, it went away; those were the qualities that she loved about him – the same qualities that she loved about her father.

It wasn't long, as she listened to that beloved sound that she fell into a deep sleep lulled there by the sounds of his breathing and precious thoughts of him.