(NC-17)
by Delta Story
September 1997
~*~
*I am not going to scream,* she vowed, pushing images of fear
aside... only to have the thought drowned out by echoes of the
inhuman cries of her own voice, sounds that carried
throughout the galaxy... as it pierced her skin... as it
penetrated her meninges... as it transmuted her blood... bringing
icy hot rupture to every synapse and cell in her system...
bringing possession...bringing darkness.
Janeway jolted upright, as her eyes sprung open. The chill
throughout her body came from the rivulets of sweat that found
her every crevice. Her breathing was shallow and rapid and she
could feel her heart pumping and thumping, adding its racing
rhythm to the flow. Her damp hair clung to her moist skin, and
the thin material of her nightgown was wet and transparent over
her clammy skin. Her cries, no, her shrieks... alerted her to
where she was... in her quarters, on Voyager. Her mind slowly
responded to the visual stimuli that her eyes replayed. She
swung her legs to the side of the bed, as she sat up. She willed
her breathing to slow; she pushed her hair back, wiping away the
involuntary tears which were veiling her vision.
*No more; it's over,* she thought to herself. She looked at the
disarray of bedcovers surrounding her; it was obvious that she
could have been wrestling with the devil himself. But, she was
here... on Voyager... alone. And it was the aloneness that bothered
her the most. For that she was grateful... for once in her life, when she
was Borg, Kathryn Janeway was not alone... she was in communion
with the universe... with an eternity of souls.
Her breathing had slowed to a normal rate. She closed her eyes
and took a deep breath. The fear and pain were once more gone.
With her eyes closed, she could see and hear it all... memories
of billions of beings, touching and holding and caressing her,
their thoughts and hers linking to a communal one, creating a an
infinity with all places and time. She got out her bed, and
stumbled to her bathroom, trying to brush the strands of the
cobwebs of the dream from her mind. Without calling for light,
she splashed some water on her face. Ah, reality. Yes, she was
on Voyager.
They weren't there at all... once again her conscious and
subconscious had merged... once more, she had to separate them.
She shuffled back into her sleeping area and slipped out of her
wet nightgown, slipping into another one. The dry, silky
material felt cold against her still-moist skin. She stared out
of the window, looking into the dark void sparkling with the
reflecting bodies near and far. Where were they... were the Borg
truly out of her life, and that of her ship? The glowing
numerals on her chronometer brought her into the present --- it
was 0145... would she be able to get back to sleep? She closed
her eyes briefly; no ghosts... for now. Her comm badge was there
next to the chronometer... should she or shouldn't she? Alone...
she didn't want to be alone. She picked up the symbol of her
world... her life... and softly called him.
"Chakotay... Chakotay..."
"Kathryn, are you all right?" came an almost immediate response. He
sounded like he was awake.
"I'm sorry to bother you... but... the dreams... are back. Please - can
you come over, just to talk?"
"I'm on my way."
He buzzed at her door within seconds. She opened the panel, and
he came in. He had a robe on, but was barefoot. Without
speaking, he took her in his arms, holding her close, willing the
evil away. Was she sighing or sobbing against his chest? He
could not tell. He softly kissed the top of her head, tasting
the dampness of the tresses. Finally, after many moments, he
gently broke the embrace, but, with his arm around her slight
shoulders, led her over to the sofa. Still, he said nothing,
allowing her to pace her thoughts.
"Chakotay, I know that you have said that you don't remember any
of the things that happened when the Borg collective from New
Hope colony directed you to restart the cube... but have you had
any indication of the connection still existing?"
"Only through my dreams, like you. And since my experience when I
was under the neural link was... (he hesitated, not wanting to again
jeopardize their relationship by bringing up memories of Riley Frazier)...
pleasant. My only pain was from my injuries, and the neural link and
its shared experiences... were good ones. I only wish you could have
shared that side of their being."
He again pulled her close, brushing back the wisps of hair that were
falling onto her face.
"Are you better now?"
"Chakotay... please, stay."
"What are you asking, Kathryn?"
"I don't want to be alone..."
"You're not alone..."
"No, I mean..."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
He pulled her to her feet, and again put his arm around her as
they went into her sleeping area. She pulled the bedcovers into
a more manageable arrangement, and they lay down. He pulled the
sheet up, covering both of them. He rolled onto his side, and
placed his arm over her chest. His face was just over hers, as
he spoke.
"I'm here, and I know that's all that you want. Try to sleep,
Kathryn." He tenderly kissed her, and she rolled into the
comforting protection of his arms. Their breathing assumed a
tandem rhythm, and they fell asleep sharing breaths and bodies
and bed.
Through the fog of sleep, she heard him call her. She tried to
open her eyes, but in that limbo territory of dream and reality,
she could not make out in what state she existed. The voices were
back... calling her, pleading... exposing her once again to all
places and all beings... come on, snap out of it, Kathryn... the
visions were tumbling now...
"Chakotay..." She felt his weight shifting; he was on top of her.
Did she want this now? Amid the swirling spirits and souls and
others? This was supposed to be private... yes, she had dreamt
of this happening, too... but not now... no, she didn't want to
share this...
His hands were exploring her body. They were warm... inviting...
insistent... She returned his caresses... she realized that his
robe was off, and that he was easing her out of her nightgown...
yes, I want you, Chakotay... but the rest of you... the billions
of you... this is *our* moment... go away! Or am I just dreaming
this... I want you so much, my wonderful Chakotay! His hands
were burning her flesh; yet she was cold. Warm me, yes... warm
me! I'm so cold... still the voices... the gray and black images...
he was getting closer and closer to her... she could feel the heat
and throbbing and pulsing of him as he approached her opened
legs... yes, warm me... drive away the wraith of that monster...
wake me up with your life... She was gasping now, as he started
his entry... oh, yes; yes... fill me with life again...
Her gasps were quicker... and then she screamed. She screamed
herself awake, as she felt him enter her. He was cold...
metallic... smooth... like a probe... and the voices were still
there...
"We are the Borg... resistance is futile..."
The probe inched nearer. She could feel its cold smooth surfaces
even before it made contact. Its movement was in slow motion,
like seeing a holograph caught in a time lapse. She knew what
was coming... the excruciating rupture of her physical, mental
and emotional being... the nothingness that would occur... the
violation of her soul. Closer and closer it came, taking on a
bizarre personality, sinister in its solitude... ominous in its
omniscience. It came into contact with the thin area of skin over
her right temple.