Neelix
sat across the desk from the doctor, in the strategically placed chair, with his
hands folded politely. This made
the EMH immensely happy that someone finally accepted the situation and sat in
his underused chair.
“Okay,
Mister Neelix, let me get this straight.”
The doctor re-examined the PADD. “Your
whole family was killed horribly, the love of your life left you, you may never
see another Talaxian again, and you, like everyone else on this ship, has been
exposed to some horrifying events. How
do you maintain your optimistic nature?”
“Why,
it’s quite simple, really. I
surround myself with friends. It’s
pretty hard to be sad when you have people who care about you all around.”
The
Doctor was not convinced. He leaned
forward across his desk. “Are you
sure you’re not just burying your feelings?
It takes an amazing degree of emotional maturity to deal with trauma and
remain the man you were.”
“Doctor,”
Neelix began, “I know I don’t have all the answers, but I can say for
certain that I don’t keep anything bottled up inside.
You know me, I’m always talking to someone.”
“But
do you have any deep, stable relationships with any of the crew?”
“As
a matter of fact, I do. There are
lots of people I can talk to when I’m down.
Sam Wildman, for one, has helped me through some particularly bad times. Especially after my own struggles. I did tell her, eventually, that she helped save my life by
showing me that every life has meaning, even if I couldn’t see it at the time.
She listened to me when I vented my anger at the universe and held me
when I cried for my sister, but most of all she was just there.
And with Naomi, it’s nice to be needed.
I’m like the uncle and father figure she doesn’t have right now.
That means more to me than anything.
We all go through bad times, Doctor, but if we have good people around
us, we can get through anything.”
The
Doctor thought for a moment before rendering his verdict.
“Neelix, your past may be rife with emotional struggles, but I dare say
that you have developed amazing coping mechanisms. You are one of the most emotionally balanced people on the
ship. Keep up the good work.”
“Why,
thank you, Doctor,” Neelix said
with a smile radiating from his face. Then
he added, “Oh, by the way, have you noticed how Commander Chakotay has been
acting lately? Not meaning to pry,
but he seems to be in pretty bad shape. You
should see how he’s doing.”
Worry
lining his face, the Doctor said, “Thank you for bringing this to my
attention. I’ll look into it
right away.”
“Now, Mr. Tuvok, I hope you realize this is just a
formality,” the Doctor said, apologetically.
“You
have your orders,” Tuvok enigmatically replied.
“First,
I was wondering if you had noticed anything odd about Chakotay’s behaviour.”
In
that tone of subtle Vulcan exasperation, he said, “The Commander has been late
twice already this week. While not
totally uncharacteristic, it is odd.”
“I’ll
look into it, thank you. Also, when
you speak to the Captain, would you please remind her that we do have an
appointment tomorrow.”
“Of
course, but she will resist your attempts at an interview.”
“Oh,
I know she will," he sighed.
They
sat in silence, until the Doctor said, “Actually, I’d like your advice. What’s your take on the situation? I mean, you have so much experience as a security officer.”
“My
‘take’ is that this is a rare, but known occurrence throughout human culture
in general and Starfleet in particular.”
“So
you’ve seen this before?”
“Yes.
Two other times, both on starships, though the phenomenon is not
restricted to space.”
The
Doctor was shocked. “How did the
crew deal with it?”
“Much
as this crew is dealing with it. I
can offer no useful observations, except to say that the closeness of the
Voyager crew, while initially exposing them to the pain of Kellerman’s death,
can only aid them in their recovery. We
must ensure no one becomes alienated during this crisis.”
With
a smile of gratitude, the Doctor said, “You are very insightful.
I’ll make the best use of your advice.”
Tuvok
stood to leave the office, but something was still bothering the Doctor. He stopped the Vulcan.
“Tuvok,
if you don’t mind me asking, don’t you find this whole incident profoundly
disturbing?”
Tuvok
turned around, but did not answer right away.
After a moment, he said, “No, I do not.”
Shocked,
the Doctor asked, “What do you mean? It’s
all so senseless; at the very least, doesn’t that offend your sense of
logic?”
“On
the contrary, there is a certain logic to suicide.”
Flustered,
the Doctor shot back, “How can you say such a thing?
It’s a waste of a life, something more precious than all the dilithium
in the quadrant. Isn’t waste
illogical?”
“Of
course it is, but suicide is present in almost all higher life forms, from
humans to the Q. Even some Vulcans
partake of the rite of ritual suicide in certain, extreme cases.”
“Vulcans
taking their own lives? I don’t
understand. What would be the
reason behind that?”
“When
one is afflicted with an illness, one that gravely affects quality of life and
for which there is no cure, it is often most logical to end such suffering.”
Shaking
his head, the Doctor said, “Well, of course that would be a valid reason, but
killing oneself for emotional reasons? Surely
there is no justification for that?”
“Extending
the definitions of quality of life and illness, one could argue that if a life
consists of nothing but suffering, and if there is no available cure for such
malaise, then—right or wrong—there is a possible reason for such an
action.”
“But
there is a cure for depression! Kellerman
could have at least come to see me; we could have figured something out. He didn’t have to kill himself.”
Tuvok
responded, “True. Ensign
Kellerman should have sought you out and investigated treatment options.
But, Doctor, there is no “cure” for depression, especially if it is a
normal response to abnormal circumstances.
I do not agree with his actions, but I do not think Kellerman was beyond
reason. He made his own
decision.”
Slumping
into his chair, the Doctor said, “Well, you’ve certainly given me a lot to
think about, Tuvok. I don’t agree
with you, but I value your viewpoint. And,
I suppose you’re right. He did
make his own decision.
“Doctor
to the Captain.”
A
voice filtered through the ready room comm system to jostle Janeway awake. She had fallen asleep while reading reports again, and had
been having an awful dream. She was
back on Tao Ceti Prime, watching the last tip of the experimental ship slip
beneath the surface of the icy water. And
it was her fault.
“Captain,
this is the Doctor, please respond.”
Picking
herself off the desk, she growled, “I’m not in the mood, Doctor.”
“It’s
09:30; time for your appointment.”
This
time, she made herself abundantly clear. “Doctor,
I am busy. If you don’t feel like
being decompiled today, you will leave me in peace.”
The Doctor paused for an uncharacteristically long time. Finally he said, “Fine. Then come by anytime tomorrow afternoon.”
As
his chair experiment was not entirely successful, the Doctor borrowed the couch
from Commander Chakotay’s office, while he was in a meeting with Captain
Janeway. In fact, he was hoping the
commander would be there, so they could continue their discussion. The next best solution, he decided, was to steal something so
Chakotay would come looking for him.
On
the purloined couch, the Doctor sat a comfortable distance away from Seven of
Nine.
“I
find it hard to believe that Captain Janeway intended for me to devote such a
large amount of my time on a useless exercise.
I am functioning at peak efficiency and I assure you I will not harm
myself at any time in the future,” Seven of Nine stated without flourish.
The
doctor saw an opening: “Then let’s begin with that.
Seven, why don’t you spend more of your day on personal activities?”
“I
do. Fifty-eight minutes of every
day are spent on cardiovascular exercise.”
“Do
you ever do anything relaxing?”
She
appeared slightly perturbed as she said, “I do not require relaxation.”
“Everyone
needs to relax, Seven, or they burn out.”
Seven
appeared confused. “What does
this mean, to ‘burn out’?”
“It’s
a psychological state brought on by stress with emotional and physical
ramifications. But aren’t I the
one who is supposed to be asking questions?” he said in an attempt at levity.
“I
am not preventing you from completing your task.”
The
Doctor shook his head. He was
rarely sure if Seven got his jokes, because she never seemed to find them
amusing. He decided to probe this
by asking, “How do you feel about humor?”
“Need
I state that humor is largely irrelevant?”
“Just
‘largely irrelevant? Not totally
irrelevant? Why not?”
“Like
many other human social customs, it has a function in their society.”
“'Human
customs’ and ‘their society’; don’t you feel you belong as a human
being?”
“I
am Borg,” she stated simply.
“But
you’re human, too. Why do you
feel like such an outsider?”
“Because
I am different. My devotion to the
pursuit of perfection separates me from others.
We are too dissimilar in our goals to ever be compatible.”
“Everyone
tries to improve themselves; what makes them so different from you?”
Her
voice was lower this time when she spoke. “Humans
are inefficient. For example, the
journey to Earth. We would be much
closer to our destination if we did not stop to investigate every planet or
insignificant piece of stellar dust.”
The
Doctor realized he had touched a nerve with his comment.
He said, “You have said yourself that you are not looking forward to
reaching Earth, like the others are. It’s
a place you’ve never known, so why are you now so eager to reach it?”
For
a time Seven refused to answer. The
Doctor tried to meet her downturned eyes, but she avoided the contact.
He reached across and nudged her chin up with a finger.
She
finally looked at him and said, “Here on Voyager I am unique, and thus I am
different from the others. Earth is
filled with many unique individuals, so possibly I will not seem so strange to
them.”
“Seven,”
the Doctor said in a sympathetic voice, “are you really trying to say that you
feel… lonely?”
Defensively,
she said, “Just because I am alone, does not automatically make me lonely.”
“True,”
he said, “but as your friend, I think I know.
We all care about you, but you never attend any of the social gatherings
or interact with the crew on anything other than a superficial level.
Your shyness is beginning to disrupt your life.”
She
immediately countered, “I am not shy.”
“Then
what would you call it?”
She
had no answer.
“Come,”
Captain Janeway ordered and her ready room door slid open.
The
Doctor walked in. “It is now
Thursday evening. You missed your
appointment.”
Not
even looking up from her terminal, she said, “I have something more important
to take care of right now.”
“More
important than your mental health? I
could make it an order, you know.”
“Doctor,”
she nearly shouted. “I am having
a personnel problem right now. That
is more important than one little meeting.”
“Is
it Commander Chakotay?”
“He
didn’t show up for his shift tonight. Other
than that, I’m not at liberty to discuss…”
“I
know about his problems,” he interrupted.
“Probably more than you know. But
I’m not ‘at liberty to discuss,’ either.”
He shook his head. “He has
issues, Captain, and most of them are about you.
The two of you need to work it out, before a problem arises.
For the good of the ship, Captain, find him and work out a compromise,
solution, understanding—anything to fix this situation.”
So
the Doctor knew. Chakotay’s long
buried feelings for her. Maybe he
even knew the reciprocal nature of those feelings.
But now he couldn’t keep it inside any longer and she guessed that made
it her responsibility. Standing,
she said, “I appreciate your candor. And
your advice. Dismissed.”
She
rang his doorchime, though she had little hope of him responding.
Quietly, she spoke to him, "Chakotay, it's me.
Let me in." Again, as expected, there was no response.
Without hesitation, Kathryn used her security codes to open his locked
door. The interior was dark, with
the portholes closed and not even the blue night lighting to guide her.
Venturing forward, the door shut and closed off the room from the normal
sounds of life. Immersed in
darkness, she tried to use her other senses to guide her.
She could smell his warmth and hear his slow and shallow breathing.
He was trying to be quiet, but Kathryn could sense he was awake.
"Chakotay,
please speak to me." After a
moment she demanded, "Computer, night cabin illumination."
By
the faint blue lights, Kathryn could see the outline of his body lying on
the couch, covered by a blanket. She
forced away the feelings that urged her to go to him, take him in her arms, and
hold him until all was well. Instead,
she pleaded with him again, "Chakotay, we need to talk."
His
voice a whisper, he stated, “Distant, as always.”
“What
are you talking about?”
“Anytime
you have a chance to really touch another human being with your thoughts and
your feelings, you run away.”
He
was definitely acting strangely.
She
said, “I’m not running; I’m still here.”
“Are
you? Or have you retreated so far
inside your armor that the vulnerable human part of you is totally inaccessible;
left to whither away and die?”
Defensively,
she attacked, “Look who’s talking. You
hide in the dark, under the covers.”
“Cowering
under the blanket I’m still a more present friend than you.”
“Then
come out and face me.”
He
did not move.
“Chakotay,
please get up,” she begged.
“Why,
Kathryn? Because it doesn’t fit
into your neat little defined parameters that I just want to take a little
break? After all this time, I think
I’m entitled. Tell me, Kathryn,
why can’t I just lie in my quarters for a time and rest?”
“As
your friend and as your Captain, I’m concerned about you, just as I would be
for any member of this crew.”
“Any
member of this crew!” he raged, sitting up and facing her with a visage of
flared nostrils and darkened brow. “I
am far more to you than just any member of this crew.
What you don’t seem to understand is that I am my own person, not just
one of your subordinates. You think
I follow you because of some unwavering sense of loyalty and that every
decision—and every mistake—is on your head alone.
But I make my own decisions! I
don’t just follow you because you’re my captain; I follow you because you
are right. This may be a hierarchy,
but not every mistake, not every misfortune is your fault.
Now stop acting like it is and stop treating me like just another
crewman. Start to be your own
woman, Kathryn and start being the leader—and the person—you were meant to
be.”
Much
to his disappointment, she stood mute. Sighing,
he stood and stalked the length of the room.
He picked up his medicine bundle and ran his finger over the leather,
tracing the designs, searching for the wisdom to take this challenge to the next
level. He knew his friend was in
trouble; he knew she must be suffering greatly, but not even the wisdom of his
ancestors could show him how to help her.
His
head lowered, not making eye contact, he said, “But all that will do no good
to either of us if we can’t figure out what’s really at the root of your
sadness. And we need to, because it’s also at the root of mine.”
“Commander,
I am not your concern. I am faring
quite well, for your information.”
“Oh,
by the Gods Kathryn, have you lost your humanity?
You were once a very special person and you have the potential to be her
again, but not if you keep yourself from caring.
You can’t shut out life to protect yourself; you’ll only destroy
everything extraordinary inside you.”
Secretly,
she felt the pangs of loneliness that stemmed from her quarantined existence.
She fought back the tears that tried to free themselves.
She turned away from him.
“And
you hide your secret pain, once again,” he said.
Forcefully, he continued, “You don’t have to be alone, Kathryn. No one can be strong like this forever. Especially when they don’t have to be.
She
turned back to him. “You don’t
know what it’s like,” she sobbed, “to have them accuse you in your dreams.
I’m never safe, not even when I sleep.”
“Who?
All the people who died under your command?”
“I
can’t even begin to express the fathoms-deep guilt I feel every time we lose
someone, but no, they don’t bother me like that.”
“Then
who? Who visits you in your sleep,
Kathryn?”
Ignoring
his pleas, she continued, “I can still feel the chill of the icy water they
died in. It steals my breath…”
“Your
father and your fiancé. But that
was so long ago. Tell me you
haven’t been living like this ever since the accident.”
“No,
no. I used to be fine, you know.
I don’t know why it’s all come back to haunt me.”
Chakotay
turned to her and put his hands on her arms.
Holding her there, he said, “Because they never left.
You never finished mourning them. You
shut it out of your mind for the longest time, but nothing stays buried forever.
Nothing.”
Her
voice nearly a whisper, she asked, “Then why now, in the midst of all this?”
Gently,
he replied, “Maybe something triggered it, flipped a switch in your mind, but
I believe the memories only resurfaced when you were finally strong enough to
deal with them once and for all.” At
that he pulled her into his strong embrace.
He held her there, against his chest, as sobs shook her small frame.
After a time, he whispered in her ear, “Now is your chance to finally
put your father and fiancé to rest.”
“I
can’t, Chakotay. Some days
they’re all that keeps me going. I
remember the mistake I made on that planet and each time I vow to never make
another one like it again. Imagine
if I couldn’t make a decision and someone else died because of it.
I couldn’t live with myself. So
every day I remind myself that if it comes down to it, I cannot hesitate to
sacrifice a crewmember, and that includes you, Chakotay.
That’s the duty of a captain and that’s also the reason we can never
be together.”
“Kathryn,
in case you’ve forgotten, I’m Starfleet, too.
I took the same oath and I expect to be put in the same peril as any
other crewman, but just because I might die, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t open
up your heart to me. I know you
don’t want to lose anyone else that you love—you’ve lost too many
already—but life without love isn’t life at all.
You don’t have to be alone anymore, Kathryn.”
Instead
of an argument, all he got were more tears.
He brought her to the couch and rocked her back and forth until she fell
asleep.
Standing
in the mess hall, her dress uniform comfortably crisp against her skin, the
Captain spoke to the gathered crowd of mourners.
Addressing them all, she began her solemn speech.
“Today
we gather to consign the remains of Ensign Nikolas Kellerman to the depths of
space. He served faithfully on this
vessel for years, but in many ways, we never knew him.
Why? I am certain everyone
here is asking themselves how they didn’t notice anything was wrong or why
they didn’t do more to make his life easier.
I implore you, do not blame yourselves and do not wallow in guilt.
Sometimes a person gets so tangled in a web of guilt and self-doubt that
it takes a Herculean effort to drag him or her from the depths.
But my words are not for those who now blame themselves, but for those who
may be living their lives trapped in a prison of isolation and despair.
There is one thing you must do. Open
yourself up to those around you; don’t hide and don’t avoid those who care
about you. I have learned that
sometimes, by shutting out those around you, you are hurting someone more
than you can imagine.”
At
that, she looked at Chakotay, among the others in a sea of uniforms, and gave a small smile.
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