AN: Here we are, another chapter here.

I know some people don't like reproduced lines in fic, but I did reproduce the angry warrior legend. I couldn't write it any more suitably than the show did, so I used it directly.

I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

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They were slowly settling, whether or not they wanted to.

Chakotay was finding that there was nothing really disagreeable about their lives on the planet. They woke in the morning with purpose. They worked all day on one task or another, and they went to bed at night ready to rest.

Chakotay was, perhaps, a little flustered by the preferred relaxation methods of their housemates—the sound of which drifted easily through the small house—but he usually drowned them out with stories that he told Kathryn in the absence of the conversations that she sometimes wanted to have.

She might protest to try to keep face, but she liked being talked to while she fell asleep. She would actively stay awake if the conversation was serious enough—like when Chakotay had discussed with her the tracks they'd found that clearly belonged to a large cat of some kind—but she drifted off whenever the conversation turned lighter.

Rather than be insulted by the fact that she slept so readily while he talked to her, Chakotay felt warmed by the idea that she found his voice soothing enough that it clearly alleviated the worries that she seemed capable of finding in a practical vacuum.

Kathryn had not completely accepted, yet, that they were going to remain on the planet. She continued working on her experiments. Her happiest moments, sometimes, seemed to be talking about what she'd found, what she planned to try next, or how close she hoped she might be to a solution. She ignored the fact that Voyager could be anywhere by now. She ignored the fact that they had no way to track the ship and would never catch up to it. She ignored the fact that they would be very unlikely to make the trip back to the Alpha Quadrant in the shuttle, even if that's what they all wanted.

And Chakotay didn't push her. She would get there on her own, and the last thing he wanted was to be the one who pushed her toward something that hurt her.

The bathtub had been a labor of love. It wasn't easy to build, and it had been time consuming, but he'd thought of her every second that he'd worked on it. He'd spent every evening working on it and, once it was built, Daryl had helped him finish it and make sure it was perfect. Then, while Carol had distracted Kathryn at their gardens, watering their sprouts—where Kathryn, surprisingly, showed she had an unexpected green thumb—Daryl and Chakotay had moved the tub out behind the house. It was close enough to the house to allow someone to hear a person in the bathtub if they should need them—since they had yet to lay eyes on the large cat that left the paw prints near their home—but it was far enough away to allow privacy while one bathed.

Daryl and Carol had taken their things and two bows, for protection, to go down and bathe in the river—and to probably do other things on the shore of the river—and Chakotay had shown Kathryn the tub that he'd built specially for her.

Now, she was taking advantage of the tub and relaxing while Chakotay worked on some plans for other building projects that he intended to begin since the tub was finished.

As someone in a somewhat established relationship that was becoming more established by the nanosecond, Daryl was almost constantly nudging Chakotay toward Kathryn. He assured Chakotay that Kathryn was simply scared of something.

And maybe she was, but Chakotay didn't want to be the one to scare her. He wanted to be the one that relieved her fears.

It was a thought that immediately came to mind when he heard her yelling out his name from the bathtub.

"Chakotay! Come quick! There's something in the woods!" Kathryn called.

Chakotay was out the door as quickly as he could be. He'd grabbed one of their better made spears, leaned ready against each door, on his way out, and he'd grabbed one of the phasers and flashlights, too, that they never touched. He had no idea what kind of animal he was about to face, but he fully intended to face it if it wasn't willing to run away.

As he came out the door, he realized the animal had not emerged from the woods. There was nothing present, at that moment, in the darkness except for Kathryn and him. Chakotay slipped the phaser onto the waistband of his pants and flicked on the flashlight.

He shined it into the woods. He didn't immediately see anything. He tried to prepare himself for something in the family of a panther, while he hoped for one of the short, fat birds that waddled around like footballs on toothpick legs.

"Get back, Kathryn," Chakotay commanded. "If it's the cat…"

"It's small," Kathryn said, making no effort to retreat at all from where she was standing beside the bathtub she'd been using. "I hear it in the trees."

That relieved Chakotay a little and he felt his muscles untangle themselves a little.

"Probably a bird," Chakotay said hopefully. "Something nocturnal. Like an owl." He shined the light up into the trees. He heard the rustling movements that must have alerted Kathryn earlier. He heard the cracking of a dead branch when weight was applied to it. He followed the sound and stopped when his light drifted over something moving. "It's some sort of primate," he said, amused to find the monkey-like creature.

Beside him, Kathryn hummed out her pleasure at seeing the little creature.

"Hello there!" She said, extending her hand upward toward the animal like she thought it might come to her. "Are you hungry? Is that why you're here? Oh—hello! We've moved into your back yard. I guess we have to be neighbors now. Do you want to come down? We might have something you want to eat."

The monkey seemed to regard her for a second, but then it screeched at her and, essentially, darted away. It moved quickly through the branches until it disappeared.

Kathryn laughed to herself.

"Oh well," she said. "I guess—it didn't want to get to know us yet."

With the dim light of the flashlight pointed off toward the trees, Chakotay took in her face. Her hair was pulled up and back to keep it from getting wet in the water, but some had fallen. It was damp and clung to her. She was clearly naked except the towel that was only haphazardly wrapped around her as a quick attempt to guard her modesty when she'd gotten out of the bathtub because she was unsure of what was around her.

Chakotay took in her full, barely covered form, and he found it difficult to breathe.

His body reacted. He was a man and, whether or not his brain had the full intention to be a gentleman in Kathryn's presence, other parts of his anatomy were a little less subtle about the desperation he felt to touch her.

He only realized he was staring when she turned her head toward him. He turned his head away, apologetically, and Kathryn pulled her towel a little tighter around her.

"Enjoy the rest of your bath," Chakotay said, ducking his head and walking away as best he could—hoping that Kathryn didn't look at him hard enough to see his very obvious, and quite uncomfortable, interest. "I'll be just inside. If you need me."

"Thank you—Chakotay," Kathryn called softly as he stepped into the house and, putting away everything he'd carried outside with him, sat down and closed his eyes, waiting for his almost painful predicament to resolve itself.

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Chakotay had been lying with his eyes closed for what felt like hours. He couldn't sleep, though.

Carol and Daryl were asleep now or, at the very least, they were being very quiet on their end of the house. The two had laughed about the coldness of the water—perhaps loudly, or perhaps simply at a normal level with such tight quarters—and they'd apparently done their best to warm each other from the chill. Now everything was quiet.

But Chakotay was still lying on his cot with his eyes closed.

His father had always told him not to bother the spirits with anything foolish. He didn't think it was foolish, though, to express to them how frustrated he felt over things with Kathryn and how desperate he felt. He didn't mean her any harm. He only wanted to love her and care for her in the most honorable way that he could. He didn't think it was too much to ask for any blessing that could possibly be bestowed upon him to allow him to do such a thing.

Beside him, Chakotay heard the now-familiar sound of Kathryn tossing and turning in her bed. She had trouble sleeping. Nearly every night it was the same.

"You need to sleep," Chakotay offered into the darkness.

"You're awake?" Kathryn asked back.

"If I weren't, I wouldn't be able to tell you what's best for you right now." Chakotay said with a laugh. "You need to sleep."

Kathryn clearly did not go to sleep. Instead, she lit the lantern next to her cot—there were two small tables between their cots, each with a lantern— and illuminated the room with the jumping light of the flame.

She sat up, on the edge of her bed, and pushed her blanket back.

Her hair was down, her feet were bare, and Chakotay was sure that the nightgown she'd replicated had to be an effort to protect her modesty, because he wasn't almost certain that ancient convents issued less covering nightwear. The expression on her face made it clear that she was dealing with something, and she was happy to find him awake.

He wasn't going to sleep anyway.

He sighed and sat up. He wasn't as modest as she was, and he pulled his blanket around his waist to cover his underwear and to act as an insurance policy against any other unpredictable occurrence that may happen. The blue nightgown was only a little more flattering than a potato sack, but that really mattered very little to him. He was attracted enough to Kathryn Janeway that just seeing her eyes would be enough to have his whole body starving for the chance to touch her.

"What's on your mind, Kathryn?" Chakotay asked, making it clear that he intended to give her his undivided attention.

"Chakotay, we have to talk about this. I—I think we need to—define some parameters. About us." Kathryn said.

Chakotay felt like his stomach twisted itself into a knot.

"I don't really know if I can—define parameters, Kathryn," Chakotay said. He shook his head at her. "And I'm not really sure that I want to. But—I can tell you a story. An ancient legend among my people."

Kathryn smiled softly. She laughed quietly to herself.

"I need for us to talk about this, Chakotay," she said. "I don't need you to tell me a bedtime story."

"It's not a bedtime story," Chakotay said. "I wish you would listen."

Kathryn nodded her head. She visibly relaxed. She protested, but she enjoyed stories. Chakotay did his best not to smile.

"It's about an angry warrior who lived his life in conflict with the rest of his tribe. A man who couldn't find peace, even with the help of his spirit guide. For years, he struggled with his discontent. The only satisfaction he ever got came when he was in battle. This made him a hero among his tribe, but the warrior still longed for peace within himself. One day, he and his war party were captured by a neighboring tribe, led by a woman warrior. She called on him to join her because her tribe was too small and weak to defend itself from all its enemies. The woman warrior was brave, and beautiful, and very wise. The angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burden lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first. And, in that way, the warrior began to know the true meaning of peace."

Kathryn smiled when she was sure that Chakotay was finished speaking. She leaned a little across the divide that the two small tables created between their beds and between them.

He loved that smile.

"Is that really—an ancient legend?" She asked.

Chakotay laughed to himself. He shook his head and looked at her, careful to hold her eyes.

"No," he admitted. "But—that made it easier to say." Her expression softened and his heart, having sunk before, seemed to lift itself up to beat around inside his chest at a fast pace. "Kathryn—I can't define parameters. I can—and I will—always respect the boundaries that you set for me. But I won't set more."

Kathryn reached her hand toward him and Chakotay reached out, across the distance that might as well have been a million miles long, and wrapped her small hand in his. He leaned forward, straining slightly, to kiss her fingers. She allowed him that. She pulled her hand free, but instead of taking it back, she turned it and touched his lips.

He got up and, as carefully as if he were approaching an animal that was likely to bolt from the room, he came slowly to her cot and sat beside her. She turned her body to somewhat face him. She looked like she might cry and she wrung her hands in her lap.

"I have to admit that—I never was any good at relationships," she said. "Even—before. I spent most of my time dedicated to work and I expected…I expected everyone else to handle things. To guide them. I've never been home longer than—a week or two." Her frown was sincere. "I don't even know if I know what I'm doing. Especially when—I'm not Starfleet anymore."

Chakotay's chest ached badly enough that he might almost believe that he was having a heart attack. He caught her hand and pulled it back to him. He kissed her fingers. He squeezed her hand in his.

"If you need me to lead for a while, I can do that," Chakotay said. "I've never loved you because you were Starfleet, Kathryn."

Her eyes went wide. He couldn't take it back and he firmly decided that he wouldn't. He offered her a soft smile. He leaned toward her and, when she didn't pull away, he tentatively pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was somewhat tight-lipped, but he didn't take it heart. He could hear her breathing. He knew it was rapid. He could practically hear her heart pounding. Her eyes were wide.

"They're only words, Kathryn," he said softly, "until you don't want them to be. But—I won't take them back. Even if you don't return them, I still mean them. And if you need time, then you take time. We have an abundance of it. But—I still won't take them back."

He got up after a moment and moved back to his cot. He wanted to give her space. Time. He wanted her to have whatever she needed. No matter what she decided, at least he'd said his peace. And, if nothing more, he'd fall asleep with the sensation of her soft lips and fingers against his own lips.

He closed his eyes. After a long moment of silence, the lamp was blown out. He listened for the sounds of Kathryn getting comfortable in her bed. Instead, he heard the familiar tossing and turning. Still, he decided to let her lie with her unease for a while. He heard her toss her blanket aside in what he assumed was frustration. He heard her leave her cot. He heard the two gentle footfalls of her bare feet on the floor.

He felt her leaning over him in the darkness.

"Chakotay," she said quietly. He hummed at her. Her voice was a little shaky. "I don't want you to take the words back."

"I won't," he offered, swallowing back a smile.

"I wish—you could…" She started. She stopped.

"Whatever you want, Kathryn," Chakotay offered quietly.

"I wish you could hold me," Kathryn said.

Chakotay's heart pounded wildly. It was just holding her—but how he'd dreamed of holding her. He threw back his own blanket and made as much room as the cot allowed. He held arms out to her in the darkness.

"Come here," he said.

"The cot's too small," she protested.

Chakotay laughed to himself.

"Trust me," he assured her. "We'll make it work."