0300 Hours

Also many thanks to Shayenne for the wonderful beta, encouragement, and for reminding me to post this. (I've messed with this since so all mistakes are my own.)

The stars were flying by as innocent as ever, yet something was amiss. For one thing, she was pretty sure she shouldn’t be able to see them from where she lay. But somehow there was nothing between her and the inky, star strewn depths of space. She lay in her bed gazing upwards, trying to work out what was different.

The ceiling was different, she decided. Either it was missing, or made of some transparent material. Before she had a chance to work out if she should be worried about this, there was a movement in the shadows by the door. She froze, then slid her hand towards her nightstand, searching for some kind of weapon. There was nothing, but somehow this didn’t surprise her.

“Hello, Kathryn”, said the shadow, stepping out of the doorway - she felt a rush of terror, before recognising her father. She sat up and looked at him. No, she thought, tensing again. It looked like him but it was something quite different.

He smiled and reached up to tap his fingers on the transparent ceiling. It rang out, delicate as crystal. Fragile.

“A dangerous profession,” he said, conversationally, and she knew what he had returned for. Her mouth went dry as she tried to think of some response - not yet, she wanted to say. I have a responsibility.

“The crew,” she managed. “They need me. I can’t leave.”

He smiled wider this time. “But didn’t you realise? They’ve all gone. They’re with me now. If you want to see them again you’ll have to come with me.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said.

“It’s true. There’s nothing left for you here.”

As he spoke, a familiar figure solidified in the shadows behind him. She couldn’t make out the man’s features - but then he stepped forwards into the starlight

- and her scream shattered the glass, the stars, the dream; waking her with the sound still ringing in her ears.

She froze, taking stock of her surroundings. She was lying in bed in her quarters. The stars were back in their proper place in the viewport. She drew a shuddering breath, and sat up slowly. The stars, streaming by. One of the straps of her gown had twisted and was digging into her shoulder, she fixed it automatically, glancing at the chronometer.

It was 0300.

“Kathryn?” said a voice at the door.

“Chakotay,” she breathed. She could just make out the silhouette of her First Officer, phaser trained before him. Of course, he would have heard the scream - he must have used the override on the door to her quarters.

He took a step forward and she could see him properly - irrefutably alive, safe, unharmed. “Are you all right?” he said.

“Yes”, she replied, annoyed to find her voice still unsteady. “I’m fine. I’m sorry, it was just a bad dream.”

“I thought it might be, but I had to check. Just as well I didn’t call Security.” He smiled, lowering the phaser. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice yet. Foolish, as he could always see through her. He approached and sat down on the side of the bed.

“I find it helps to talk for a few minutes, before trying to sleep again. Here, have some water.” He handed her the glass.

She took it but didn’t drink. “Thank you. But really I’m okay. It wasn’t even that bad this time.”

“What was it?” he said. His hand was on her shoulder, there was warmth in his touch. The gentle pressure gave a reassurance more basic than words.

“I was here,” she said. “Everything was made of glass. There were stars, but it was dark, and there was that being who looked like my father, the one who had a matrix…”

The pressure of his hand increased, and she felt a new intensity to his gaze. “But it was definitely just a dream,” she added.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Besides, I beat him once before, I could beat him again if it came to that.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

A thought occurred to her. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I was already awake.” She suspected he was lying.

They sat together silence for a few moments, looking out at the faint stars. He still hadn’t moved his hand from her shoulder, his thumb was drawing tiny circles against her bare skin. She was pretty sure he wasn’t aware he was doing it. It was dark, she couldn't see it, so she decided not to notice.

“Your dream was here?” he said, suddenly.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s get out of here,” he said. “Out of the dark.”

The corridors to the airponics bay were deserted, as Chakotay had known they would be at this hour. He assumed Kathryn had known this as well, or she wouldn’t have agreed to venture out with only a robe over her nightgown. He too had grabbed a robe before setting out, not particularly wanting to roam the corridors in only his pyjamas. Catching sight of their reflections as they passed a console, he bit down on a smile. He wondered what any crewman might think if they did happen to run into them. Well, if Kathryn didn’t mind then neither did he.

He glanced across at her, and realised what else was different. She was barefoot, and without her boots on she barely reached his shoulder. However long he’d known her, it always took him by surprise how very tiny she was.

Chakotay tried to ignore the rush of protectiveness that this thought always provoked. She had no need of his protection - and she’d laugh if she guessed how much he worried about her. It was ridiculous. Like tonight for instance, she’d had a nightmare and he’d come charging into her quarters, convinced she was in some kind of danger.

Not that it was an unreasonable assumption. She was frequently in danger, as they all were - and he’d come to decide it was always better to assume the worst. It was his job, after all.

When they reached airponics they found it too was deserted, the lights dimmed in an artificial night. Still without speaking, they crossed to the bench on the back wall, and sat down side by side.

Chakotay looked around and breathed deeply. The air was humid and full of perfumes, there was the soft hiss of the atomizers, the fruits made bright splashes of colour amongst the dark leaves. He glanced round at Kathryn, her expression hadn’t changed but he sensed the tension slowly draining away from her. Finally she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear.

“It’s no problem. Just doing my job.”

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of your official duties.”

He smiled. “It’s the unofficial duties that are the best. Unofficial picnic organiser. Unofficial sunscreen applier. Unofficial ice cream taster.”

“Is that what you call it? I call it theft.”

“I risk my life for you and that’s the thanks I get?”

“Blatant theft.”

Her voice was teasing; it had a lightness to it that had been absent the past few weeks. They’d been difficult weeks, and although things had quietened for the time being, no one knew for how long. As it was, he made a point of cherishing moments like this, between one crisis and the next.

Kathryn was still using his shoulder as a pillow, and he was certainly in no hurry to move her. Her hand was on his arm, her thumb was drawing tiny circles against his bare skin. He was pretty sure she wasn’t aware she was doing it. If she realised, he knew she’d stop, so he decided not to notice.

One day, he thought, things would be different. They could sit together like this whenever they wanted, instead of only at 0300 in a darkened airponics bay. One day, if she had a nightmare he wouldn’t have to break into her quarters to check on her.

The weight against his shoulder was growing heavier; if they stayed much longer he suspected she’d fall asleep. He looked down at her. Too late, her eyes were already closed and her breathing even.

“Kathryn?”

Nothing.

He sat, listening to the sound of the nutrient atomizers, with the flowers blooming all around him. A leaf dropped to the floor.

One day, he thought, we’ll have a real garden, with mud and weeds and insects. We’ll grow flowers and vegetables, not in air, but in the soil. In the earth.

“Yes,” she whispered, opening her eyes. “In the earth.”

The End.

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© Violet, October 2009. Please email me to post/distribute elsewhere.