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Something odd she misses about Earth and other planets is the heavy feeling before it rains.
The holodeck has never quite managed to get it right, the pressure building, the feeling of rain in the air that's close to falling, the way it sits on her soul almost, a feeling of waiting for something to break. The feeling that when it does break, it won't be bad, it won't be broken, but the air, the atmosphere refreshed. She will be refreshed.
At least, that's what Kathryn likes to believe.
It's been a long year.
So she relishes moments off-world like these, where she can just sit on some alien grass, under an alien tree and read a book, waiting for the rain to start. Today, she's just sitting, thinking, and that's where he finds her.
"Captain?" She doesn't respond at first, just enjoying the sound of his voice. She wonders what her name would sound like in his soft, measured tone. Probably wonderful. She looks up at him and offers a small smile to ease the worried brow.
"Chakotay," she says. "Everything okay on Voyager?" Duty first, she doesn't even have to think about it.
"Fine, I was just taking a walk," he says, "spotted you over here."
"I'm just waiting for the rain," she tells him.
He doesn't understand; she learned his tells very quickly, but then Chakotay does not hide his emotions very well. Still, he doesn't question her, and she appreciates that.
"Do you want some company?" he asks instead, tugging on his ear.
It was a loaded question, but she wasn't sure why or if she should pull the trigger. Not quite trusting her voice, she pats the grass beside her in answer. Despite his large build, he's graceful as he comes to sit down beside her, much closer than he probably should or should really allow, but she's waiting for the rain, waiting for a reset.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Tired," she admits, and she must be tired if she's willing to admit to it out loud.
"Well, it's a good thing you're on shore leave," he says. "Any plans for the afternoon?"
She mulls over his question, thinking over her answer this time.
"I'm going to sit here until it rains, then I'll go visit the little museum they have here," she decides to say, hating that she's overthinking now after her slip before.
"Well, I'll leave you to it," he says, moving to stand. Despite everything, she reaches out and puts her hand on his knee to stop him.
"You don't, you can stay if you want, I'm sorry."
"I don't want to intrude, Captain," he says, "If you want to be alone."
She doesn't. She desperately does not want to be alone because she is alone. She's surrounded by 140 people and very alone and hates it, penance or not, she hates it.
"Please," she says, hoping she doesn't sound quite as plaintive as she thinks.
He settles back onto the grass, which is an interesting shade of green that shines teal when the sunlight that filters through the clouds hits it. She pulls a couple of strands out of the ground and inspects them in her fingers, decidedly not looking at her first officer. He is, however, looking at her, examining her the same way she's pretending to examine the grass.
She doesn't really want to talk, but doesn't really want to be alone, but Chakotay seems content to sit with her quietly.
"I like the feeling just after it starts to rain," he tells her, and she smiles. His returning smile is bright and happy, and it makes her clench.
"I like this feeling, just before it starts," she says. "The holodeck doesn't quite get it right."
"It's the pressure," he says, "It always feels a little more oppressive on the holodeck."
She nods, agreeing.
"Does it feel the same afterwards, for you?" she asks, curious about him, as she always is. "That feeling just afterwards."
"I think so, I've never analysed it too closely."
Kathryn has - it's been a long year.
She leans back on the tree she's perched under, relaxing a little in his company. He's never demanded much of her, and she appreciates it, more so when the weight of Voyager is pushing her. She's enjoying this moment, though, no Voyager, no responsibility, no danger. Just the moment before the rain starts, and a friend.
She could almost fall asleep, and she must really be tired because she shifts closer to Chakotay, a millimetre, less than, but enough that she can see the slight quirk of his lips out of the corner of her eye.
"I used to do this a lot as a child," she says, "I had a thinking tree."
"Your own version of meditation?" he says.
"I guess so," she says with a smile.
"You're more spiritual than you let on."
She just nods, but she's not sure how true it is. She has often wondered if things would've been easier for her over the years if she were less scientific and more spiritual.
The pressure is building, and the first few drops of rain start to fall. Chakotay shifts closer to her then, better covered by the thick foliage of the tree - which is also slightly teal in colour. She had said she was going when it started to rain, but as the pressure finally crests and breaks, and the rain falls harder, she finds she's unwilling to move. Charkotay is pressed against her side from shoulder to ankle and is incredibly warm, though that might just be her. He's serene as he stares out at the vista before them, breathing deeply, and she finds she's breathing in tandem with him.
They sit quietly for a few minutes more before he finally stands and extends a hand to her.
"Let's go for a walk," he tells her.
"In the rain?"
"Yes," is all he says with a smile and, well, she's too tired to resist, because it's been a long year, and part of that long year is just keeping everyone at bay, everything at bay, including any feelings she may or may not have for her first officer.
She takes his hand, and he pulls her with more force than he intended - if the look on his face is any indication - and she crashes into him with an oomf.
"Sorry," he says, and there is a slight flush to his cheeks, but no movement on his part, and it takes all the energy (mental and otherwise) to step away from him.
"We're going to get soaked," she says as he drops her hand.
"Yep," he grins and starts walking, and she steps in time with him as they head over the grass of the park and towards the town. "Didn't you ever walk in the summer rain as a child?"
"No, though once I ran home in the rain after losing a tennis match when I was in high school," she says. "It was miles, and by the time I got home, I was more drowned rat than teenager."
He laughs at the image, and she finds herself telling him the whole story as they head into town and weave through the little silver streets. He's leading, in the vague direction of the museum she mentioned, but in a roundabout way, prolonging their time together. She doesn't mind; they're more sheltered here from the rain, and she's happy to walk with him.
When they finally reach the museum, having run out of little side streets to wander through, they've swapped a couple more stories about their childhoods, made each other laugh and smile, and her cheeks ache. She didn't feel as tired as she had at the beginning of the day.
"Will you tour the museum with me?" she asks. "We could get dinner afterwards?"
She's said it without even thinking, and he looks as surprised as she feels.
"That sounds great, Captain."
The next words out of her mouth are definitely the result of a long year in space and a lack of sleep and companionship, and whatever else she had left behind in the Alpha Quadrant.
"I think you could call me Kathryn," she says. "At times like these."
"Off world or off duty?" he asks, stepping a little closer, dangerously so.
"Both," she tells him, voice stronger this time and refusing to back away from what feels like a challenge. He smiles, then takes a step back himself.
"Kathryn," he tries the name out, and she was right, it is divine in his voice.
They tour the little museum, drying off as they walk around, looking at the different artefacts and learning about the history of the planet. While Kathryn has always been more interested in science, something is fascinating about science in history, but what captures her attention the most is Chakotay's interest. His passion is infectious, the way he pores over every inch of the museum, memorising all the history of a race of aliens he's never seen before and will never see again. He's saying something about the parallels between the Andosians and the Reenu, but she doesn't catch a word of it, instead taking in the way his eyes light up, and the way his lips move and the way he gestures to emphasise a point he's trying to make.
If pressed, later, she'll say she was tired, and that's definitely why she didn't catch a word of his mini lecture and not because he's actually gorgeous and it's been a long year of pretending he's not.
If pressed, later, she'll definitely say she was tired and that's why, in the middle of his sentence about cave paintings on Earth, she leans forward and kisses him. Once again, she's just as shocked as he is. She doesn't even know what to say, but that issue is dealt with as he leans in and kisses her back, one large brown hand cupping her face and tilting her up to deepen the connection. She groans into it, presses her body against his, because, holy hell, how can she not, and she's too tired to remember all the reasons why she shouldn't.
After too short a moment, she breaks away and pulls back and just looks at him, breathing hard and holding him at bay almost.
"I don't know why I did that," she says. "I mean, other than the obvious."
He smiles at her, leans down to press his lips against hers just quickly, pushing against the hold she has on his upper arms.
"The obvious being?"
"I'm not sure how to answer that," she admits because she can't quite get the racing thoughts in her head under control, or the thrum of arousal to calm, either, and it's been way too long since she's found herself in this state. Longer than she would care to admit, given she was - is - engaged.
"How about we have dinner, and you can think it over?" he suggests, and she wonders if he's always this accepting and reasonable and remembers that as her first officer, he usually is. She nods, not quite trusting what else she'll do with her mouth, and they head towards the exit of the museum.
They had passed a couple of small bistros on their walk in the rain, and he guides them to one now. She doesn't know if she would prefer they eat and talk here on the planet, with the risk of being seen by anyone else from Voyager on shore leave - or on the ship in her quarters in close proximity to a bed. Just thinking about that, she thinks the planet is the better idea.
When they're sitting and have menus, it's easy for Kathryn to pretend the last ten minutes didn't happen. Hell, without their uniforms, in the candlelight and the odd design choices of the Reenu that remind her a little of DS9, she can pretend the last year hasn't happened, and they're on a date in the Alpha quadrant.
Kathryn would've definitely have dated him had they met in the Alpha quadrant. You know, if she weren't engaged and he weren't a Maquis rebel. She feels a pang of guilt over Mark, but she knows each time it happens, it's a little less painful. She knows eventually it will fade away entirely.
"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, and she wonders what expression she's wearing right now.
"I have no idea what any of this is," she says, covering for whatever her face says.
"Well, luckily for you, I had to read Neelix's report on the food trade he did. Shall I order for both of us?"
She would say no to literally anyone else, but she puts her menu down and nods.
When the waiter comes over, he orders something that probably tastes delicious, but Kathryn thinks she'd find in the bowels of Voyager growing fungus. She accepts the drink that's offered, taking a tentative sip.
"I think it's alcoholic," he tells her. "Neelix called it a local wine."
"It's nice," she says. "He traded for some?"
"A couple of cases and the recipe for the replicator."
"Do you want to try it?"
She offers him the glass, and she wonders if it's deliberate that he brushes his fingers slowly over hers when he takes it, trying it for himself. She hands her the glass back, but she's not quite bold enough to do the same, even though she kind of really wants to.
"It's good," he says. "Like a fruity white wine, but red."
"You don't want a glass?" she asks.
"I'd rather not, I don't know how much alcohol is in it," her tells her, and that's a shame because she would rather they were both drunk to explain the day away. Or to explain the whole year away. "Maybe we could share a bottle on Voyager."
She nods in answer, taking another small sip. She doesn't feel like it's overly alcoholic, but that could be a deception, and it's probably better that they remain sober because she can feel the tension of him trying to figure out how to broach the subject of her kissing him and the why of it all.
"So," he says, and she tries to keep her expression neutral and not panic. Command training is useful for something other than captaining. "Want to talk about it?"
Oh, he's giving her an out, and she could kiss him all over again.
"No, but we should anyway."
He chuckles at that.
"Fair enough, tell me why you kiss me? Were you just trying to get me to shut up?" he says it with a smile, but she can tell by the tense way he's holding himself that he's deadly serious bout this. About her.
"No, I was interested in what you were saying, I just..." she huffs in frustration. "I suppose I could lie, say it meant nothing."
"You could."
"Not that I really know what it means, I've been trying not to think about it?" She can barely meet his eyes, but forces herself to do so and be more like the captain and less like the foolish girl she feels like whenever she is attracted to someone.
"About what?"
"The obvious," she says, waving a hand between them as if it's supposed to explain it all, explain any of what is going on in her head at this precise moment.
They're interrupted by the waiter bringing their meals, and she thinks about the kiss while judging how edible the food is (and also how edible he is).
Then it hits her.
"You kissed me back," she says.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Other than it being a reasonable response to a beautiful woman kissing you, the obvious reasons."
He doesn't do the hand wave, and he doesn't really need to, and she's hung up on the obvious reasons, but in the back of her mind, the foolish girl is telling her loudly that he thinks she's beautiful. And she wants to address that, she really does, but not right now, girl.
"I'm tired," she admits.
"You mentioned that earlier. You push yourself too hard."
She doesn't argue, because that's not where she's going with this.
"Mentally, emotionally, tired," she explains. But also physically, she reminds herself, cause this morning she felt it down to her damn bones. "I guess I can't fight the obvious all the time if I'm tired."
She keeps using the obvious because she can't quite verbalise exactly what she feels beyond an attraction she's not experienced for years and love she doesn't think she's ever experienced, and it's downright terrifying to even think about it, let alone talk about it.
"It's been a long year," he says. She chuckles a little then.
"I was thinking the same thing this morning."
She takes a few tentative bites of her dinner - it's delicious as it turns out - and she marvels at how well he's chosen her dinner for her. It's been a long year of the Delta Quadrant, and they're still here, still not home and still years and years ahead of them. Years of this.
Years of them.
"So, if you weren't tired, you wouldn't have kissed me."
"No," she says, "probably not."
"So we can put it down as an anomalous moment of exhaustion, aside from the obvious."
"No, probably not," she repeats and later, much later, curled up in his arms in her bed on their ship, she'll tell herself she was just tired of being without him.