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Resolutions Line-by-Line

Tuvok: Ensign, I'm going to say this once and once only. If you ever question my orders again, you will be relieved of duty permanently. The next words I expect to hear from you are “yes sir.”
 
[Outside the shelter]

(Chakotay is smoothing some wood.)
JANEWAY: "I'm going to check the insect traps in beta four. What are you up to now?"
 
CHAKOTAY: I've noticed you sometimes sit up in your bed to read. I figured you might as well have a comfortable backrest.
 
JANEWAY: 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: 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.
 
JANEWAY: "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."
 
CHAKOTAY: 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.
 
JANEWAY: Someday I may have to let go. But not today, okay? I've tried a new glucose bait in the traps. I have a feeling this might be the day I make a breakthrough.
 
[Woods]

(She hears a rustle nearby.)
JANEWAY: Hello? Chakotay?
(The trap has caught something. She transfers it to a specimen jar, then hears the primate call.)
JANEWAY: Hello again. Well, you certainly cover a lot of territory. Or are you following me? Do you understand me?
(The primate is pointing at the sky.)
JANEWAY: 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?
(Storm clouds gather quickly.)
JANEWAY: What is it? What's happened to the sky? If you're suggesting I should get out of here, I agree.
(Janeway has to fight against the gales to get back. She keeps falling. Chakotay comes to find her.)
 
CHAKOTAY: It seems to be some kind of plasma storm. Our tricorders don't recognise it, but it sure packs a wallop!
 
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