Kathryn did not tell Chakotay what she had experienced, and she did not cross the river again. As the days passed, she continued her work to find a specimen of the insect that had infected them and try to find a cure, but with each passing day with no success, her resolve began to waver.
One day, she exited the shelter with a case of supplies slung over her shoulder to find Chakotay hard at work nearby.
"What are you up to now?" she chuckled.
"Making headboards."
"Headboards?"
"I've noticed you sometimes sit up in your bed to read. I figured you might as well have a comfortable backrest."
She smiled. "That's very thoughtful of you, Chakotay. You've done so many things to make our lives easier here. The cooking, for example. I hate to cook."
Chakotay paused in his work and turned to face her. "But what I do makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it? Every time I do something that adds a personal touch to the shelter, you resist it."
Kathryn's smile faded. "Sometimes it feels as though you've given up, that you're focused on making a home here instead of finding a cure that will let us leave."
"I can't sacrifice the present waiting for a future that may never happen. The reality of this situation is that we may never leave here. So, yes, I'm trying to make a home. Something that's more than a plain, grey box."
Kathryn smiled wistfully. "Someday I may have to let go. But not today, okay?" He helped her to her feet and she began to walk into the woods. "I've tried a new glucose bait in the traps," she called over her shoulder. "I have a feeling this might be the day I make a breakthrough."
She picked her way through the trees, humming tunelessly as she went. She kept her eyes and ears open for anything strange or inexplicable but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, a rustle in the trees caught her attention. "Hello? Chakotay?"
Out of the trees appeared not Chakotay, but the primate who had interrupted her bath time a few days prior.
"Hello again," she greeted it. "Well, you certainly cover a lot of territory. Or are you following me? Do you understand me?"
She pointed at a bug buzzing near her face.
"There. Know what that is? That little insect just might be what gets me out of your backyard. What do you think of that, huh?"
Then she realized the primate was pointing upwards and shrieking.
"What is it?" Large grey clouds began to roll in quickly as the wind picked up. "What's happened to the sky?" A loud clap of thunder boomed overhead and suddenly, fear gripped her heart. The same deep, bone-chilling dread that had driven her from the woods before.
"If you're suggesting I should get out of here, I agree," she said quickly.
She snatched up her gear and ran back in the direction of the shelter. Thunder boomed again and the ground shook roughly. She fell hard to the ground.
The dread in her heart turned to agonizing whispers.
You should not be here. You need to leave. You should not remain.
"Kathryn!" she heard Chakotay's voice cut through the whispers. "Kathryn. Are you hurt?" His strong arms surrounded her and she let his concerned presence fill her mind, blocking out the whispers.
She leaned against his sturdy frame as they leaned into the wind and trudged slowly back to the relative safety of their shelter.
Even there, the ground still shook and all of their possessions that weren't nailed down flew across the room like projectiles. Chakotay pulled Kathryn under a table and sheltered her against him. All she could do was watch with horror as her scientific equipment was tossed around in the gale. Her eyes stung as she watched her hopes of leaving this planet shatter on the floor before her.
After what seemed like an eternity, the storm passed, leaving chaos and devastation in its wake.
"Let's check outside," Chakotay suggested. "Maybe some of the insect traps are still intact."
But outside was even worse. Branches were strewn across the yard. Pieces of the shelter had been torn off by the wind and were scattered about. And her precious insect traps were shattered on the ground.
"None of this is salvageable either," she said. "There's no way I can continue to do my research."
"I'm sorry."
She stood and sadly surveyed the wreckage of her shattered hopes. "Well, that's one way of letting go."
