Passing Years Part Three

He found her standing alone, gazing out the view port. She looked pale and regal in the dim starlight, and very alone. Her bony arms were folded across her now nearly-flat chest, and only her sharp, blue eyes defied her general air of fragility.

“Here...” Harry said as he approached her, presenting her with an elegant glass filled nearly to the brim with water.

She turned and looked at him questioningly.

“We can at least pretend it’s champagne. I’m sure this occasion merits it.” At her doubtful look, he reassured her, “My water ration-- not general supply.”

She took it then, and silently turned back to gaze out the view port.

“How does it feel, finally seeing armor on the ship?” he asked her.

“I should have finished it sooner.”

“But you finished it; that’s the important thing.”

She didn’t reply to this.

“A toast, Captain?” he offered, raising his own glass.

She looked down at the glass in her hand, as though she’d forgotten it was there. “To what?”

“To evening the odds.”

Her eyes flickered to his, her expression indefinable. Finally, she raised her glass to meet his. As they clinked, she added, “And to those who aren’t here today to see it.”

He polished off his glass with a few rapid swigs, forgetting the pretense of champagne. He looked up to see Kathryn frowning into her own glass, her eyes dark and unfathomable. He knew her mind was back at the incident in engineering two months earlier. Since that day, Harry had occasionally noticed her lapse into disquieting silences, her eyes glazed and dull. These silences never lasted more than a few minutes, and were becoming less and less frequent, but they troubled him. He knew exactly what was haunting her in those moments, and it hurt him to think of her pain.

Harry fumbled for words to distract her from her thoughts.

“I have to admit... I’m actually looking forward to engaging the Volkari again. Just wait until they see we have ablative armor of our own.”

A bleak, tight-lipped smile appeared on her face.

“It’s almost a pity we’re out of here in two months,” he continued. “We could really raise some hell, give them a taste of their own medicine.”

“I don’t know,” she said ruefully. “I think we already have our own brand of justice.”

There was a silence as he comprehended the meaning behind her words.

“Speaking of which,” she continued casually, “Have you eaten yet?”

“I was actually saving my ration in case you were hungry.”

A genuine smile found its way to her lips. “Well, let’s go get something to eat. Mr. Chell should have more than enough food for us today.”

* * *

They’d been attacked and boarded just two days earlier, leaving twenty dead Volkari littering the corridors, along with two of Janeway’s crew. Despite the pain of losing two more crewmen, Janeway had been somewhat relieved. They’d been running low on food, and she didn’t yet want to ask the crew to feed on their own dead. She could vividly recall how many had balked at eating the Volkari. In the end, hunger had been a stronger voice than any order she could possibly give, but some part of her doubted it would be the same case once their own crewmates ended up on the cutting board.

The bodies of Voyager’s dead...

Janeway had ordered them left on the frozen Deck 14 along with the Volkari. The crew was fully aware that the bodies were still on ship, but no one dared to mention it out loud. It was an awareness constantly hanging over their minds, a grim possibility for the future. In some part of her mind, Janeway believed that she’d never have the issue presented to her, that they’d have a constant influx of dead Volkari to fuel the mess hall. Janeway knew it could be her Pandora's box, and did her best to keep it at a distance.

So she was surprised when it was the Doctor who first pressed the issue.

* * *

It started when Ken Dalby burst into her ready room, phaser in hand.

Janeway had been immersed in damage reports from the attack three days earlier. The door opened. She looked up sharply at the intrusion, then leaped to her feet when she spotted the phaser and the crazed look on Dalby’s face. Training his weapon at her, Dalby circled around the desk in three bounds and slapped her com badge, and incidentally, her chest with undue force.

“You call that bastard, and you tell him to stop!” he rasped, standing so close she could feel his hot breath against her cheek.

Janeway blinked. And blinked again. Maybe she hadn’t been sleeping well, or it was the lack of caffeine, because she couldn’t seem to understand what he was talking about. She looked blankly at the phaser (set to kill, she noticed), and then back up at his face. “What?”

The anger, the agony of his expression stole her breath away, and he took a menacing step forward while she could only stumble back against her own desk.

“You aren’t feeding my wife to that goddamn monster! Call and tell that holographic bastard to put her back!”

Some of her command instincts snapped into place, and she straightened before him, looking as powerful and dangerous as she would before any foe.

Sternly, “Mr. Dalby, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Put down that phaser and explain to me coherently.”

Her tone seemed to affect a change in his demeanor, and his rage-fueled confidence faltered. He recoiled a step, and she was alarmed to see bright tears spring to his eyes. The phaser was still pointed at her. “He can’t do that to Jenny... It isn’t right.”

“Who? Who’s doing *what* to Jenny?” Janeway demanded.

“You don’t know?” Dalby’s voice was almost pitiful now. “He’s feeding her to that... that Volkari bastard in sickbay.”

Janeway felt her insides suddenly go cold, and her eyes narrowed into slits.

Janeway said in a deadly voice, “What...Volkari...in Sickbay?”

* * *

The door to sickbay slid open, and Janeway walked in, cold blue eyes glittering dangerously. The Doctor could see the phaser in her hand, tucked in a deceptively casual way against her side. He moved quickly to intercept her.

Janeway’s face radiated cold fury. She hissed, “Where’s the Volkari?”

The Doctor began, “Captain, please let me explain--”

“Oh, I’ll deal with you later,” she said in a deathly quiet voice. “Now, where--” she tried to step around him, he blocked her path.

“I won’t let you kill him.”

A bitter smile curled at her lips. “I don’t recall you having any say in the matter. He’s an enemy, he’s onboard my ship, and he’s breathing our air--”

“Captain--”

Janeway’s voice grew sharper with rage, “--And I’m *certainly* not letting you keep him here. Now get the hell out of my way!”

He seemed too taken aback by her outburst to move for a moment, and it was all the time she needed to lance around him.

A Volkari lying on his back, propped up by his elbows, had his dark, beady eyes on them throughout the exchange. He now flinched back into the bed, as far as his restraints would allow, as Janeway prowled straight towards him. Her entire body uncoiled as she lifted the phaser --

And she was stopped cold with the hiss of an injection into her neck.

The phaser slipped out of her hand and to the ground. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she sagged helplessly towards the floor. The Doctor caught her just in time, and scooped her up into his arms.

As he hauled her across the room, everything in her longed to struggle, to kick, to rip out of his grasp, but her body didn’t respond to her commands. Her mind railed against this turn of events. She could barely breathe-- she was choking on her own fury. She could hear a soft, animalistic growl in her own throat, a sound that in other circumstances would be a loud cry of frustration.

Her body was heavy and limp in his arms as he took her into his office, and then plopped her down firmly in the chair across from his. Her torso slumped, and her head lolled against her shoulder. She still had control of her eyelids, and some power over her speech, and as he circled around to take a seat across from her, she hoped she projected indescribable hatred in her gaze.

*I’ll delete the bastard... how dare he do this... keeping a Volkari... injecting me...* she seethed.

She tried to tell him so. An unintelligible sound issued from her throat. The Doctor gazed at her with dark, troubled eyes.

“Now, I know how you must be angry with me,” he looked at her, then amended, “No, an understatement. You must be furious.”

*That would still be an understatement you soon-to-be-oblivion, holographic mother-fucker!* her mind raged impotently.

“But please, let me explain... I had to give you a muscle relaxant to make you hear me out. You would have simply gone and murdered that man.”

*Not a man, a beast... a beast, you goddamn, photonic bastard...* Janeway’s words came out as, “Mmmphm...” Her voice shook. It was practically a growl. It didn’t sound like what she’d hoped to say, but she thought the sheer venom of her tone would convey her feelings.

“When the Volkari attacked three days ago,” the Doctor went on, heedless of her noises, “One of them found their way into sickbay. I managed to sedate him before he did any damage. The young man you saw out there was the aforementioned Volkari... Torvone.”

*Friends, are you?* Janeway thought with a sneer.

“You have to understand, Captain... He was still alive, and healthy. I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d kill him, and as a Doctor, I can’t allow that. I also know the crew’s been making use of the Volkari bodies, but because he was still alive, I couldn’t allow him to be fed upon. It is one thing to consume the bodies of those killed in the attack. It’s another to murder a healthy man for the purpose...”

Janeway fought to speak. All she could force out of her numbed lips was, “...mmmee...” He ignored her efforts.

“As for Jennifer Delaney’s body,” the Doctor said after a beat, his expression even more troubled. He stopped, seemingly for a breath, before, “You see, Captain, now that Torvone is here... it’s my duty as a doctor to keep him alive. He simply has to eat. The only nourishment we have consists of dead bodies. I couldn’t feed him another Volkari... if the Voyager crew refrains from outright cannibalism, I can’t ask him to consume his own people. You’d been preserving the bodies of our crew on Deck 14, and I figured this was a suitable occasion to make use of that resource.”

*No right...you had no right...* she was inwardly seething, despite some rational part of her mind understanding the merit of his words.

“Jenny Delaney’s body is still intact. I haven’t touched it yet, so if you truly must return it to Deck 14, you can still do so. But please try to understand, Captain. I cannot break my Hippocratic oath. ‘Do no harm.’ I can’t offer this man up to be murdered, and I can’t condemn him to starvation.” He passed a beat in silence, simply holding her gaze. “I know that some part of you must understand.”

There was a grave silence.

The Doctor finally said, “But I guess in the end, there’s nothing I can do to help him; his fate is in your hands. I know that if I attempt to intervene further, you could simply deactivate my program.” Then, troubled, “Or you may deactivate it after this, anyway... But I digress. All I can really do is try to show you reason.”

He stood up, and walked behind her chair, beyond her sight. She could hear him fiddling with some equipment.

“All I ask, Captain,” he continued as he reappeared before her, holding another hypospray, his face still troubled, “Is that you think... think long and hard before you act. Situations like our current predicament can twist people, distort viewpoints. But I like to think there is a certain sense of conduct, call it morality, that will remain no matter how bleak a situation.” He bent down and pressed the hypo to her neck, pausing only to meet her eyes one last time.

“I know you, Captain. You’re a genuinely good person. You’re not a murderer. And if you do what you came to do, I know you’ll spend the rest of your life hating yourself for it...”

Hiss.

“It will be a few minutes before this takes full effect,” the Doctor continued softly, withdrawing the hypospray. “I’ll... I’ll be out of sickbay for a while. What happens next is in your hands.”

*Coward...too afraid to stay...* Janeway thought as he turned and walked out of sickbay.

She remained in the chair, limp, helpless, waiting until feeling slowly trickled back into her limbs. She knew where she’d dropped the phaser. She’d go in, she’d take it, and finish what she’d started.

Finish what she’d started... finish him off... damned Volkari son-of-a-bitch...

Her legs slowly twitched to life. Her first attempts to walk proved unsuccessful. Though she had some feeling, her legs wouldn’t yet support her weight. After a few tries, though, she got her feet under her.

One step... two steps... She made her way unsteadily across the office, her senses growing sharper, her perception clearing with each movement.

Five steps... six steps... She emerged out into the dim sickbay. The phaser was lying on the floor only a few feet away. She could feel the Volkari’s eyes on her.

Nine steps... ten steps... bend. Her hand wrapped around the phaser.

Slowly, painstakingly, she rose back up again. She checked the setting, switched to kill.

Then she turned around and looked at the Volkari.

His beady eyes held onto hers. She couldn’t discern the expression on his face, whether it was fear, or hatred, or something else. The large jaw and round little eyes lent him an almost cartoonish appearance...

But no... She could remember the Volkari commander, that day in engineering, when he slaughtered one of her crew after another. Megan. Jenny. Celes. Jerron. Lessing. Nichols. There was nothing cartoonish about him then, nothing absurd. His eyes opaque, without any hint of color or discernable pupil, had been far from absurd or silly... They were impenetrable, callous, ruthless...

And it seemed to her she saw the same qualities in the eyes of the helpless Volkari bound to the biobed before her. And her fingers twitched on the phaser. She looked away when something caught her eye. She noticed the body of Jenny Delaney, stretched out on a biobed in the far corner of the room, and her mood veered sharply back to anger. Hatred, fresh and potent, surged through her.

“Hoping for a snack?” she hissed, addressing the Volkari for the first time, gazing at him through dangerously glinting eyes.

He held her gaze for a long moment, and then his lips twisted into a sneer. “I told the man,” the Volkari said slowly, his tone dripping with insolence, “As I will tell you... I would die before I would soil my lips on your flesh.” He looked at her with undisguised contempt. “You are nothing but savages, feeding on other humanoids.”

Her expression turned thunderous, and she tore forward angrily, prowling right up to his side. “How dare you...” she was almost breathless with rage, “You attack us... you attack us relentlessly... all we wanted was to get home, but it was too much to ask!... you slaughter my crew like cattle... you deprive us of the necessities for life... and you dare, DARE question this!” She grasped him impulsively by the collar, her fingernails raking his neck like talons. “You stole *everything* from us, you reduced us to animals, that we had to resort to this... and now you think you can mock us... that you’re superior--”

He held her gaze unflinchingly, his tone belligerent. “My people don’t maul helpless prisoners.”

“No,” Janeway unclenched her fist and pushed his head with a hard thump back to the biobed. “You just rip them open, don’t you? You slaughter them in front of each other--”

“I know nothing of slaughter.”

“Two months ago. Two months ago, your people came aboard my ship, and they killed one crewmember after another. They ripped them to pieces while they were helpless. What do you call that, Torvone? Is it some policy of yours? What do you call it, Torvone! Slaughter... murder...”

He held her eyes, his own face gray with anger . “From what I’ve seen of your people-- public service.”

She backhanded him. His head snapped to the side, then slowly rolled forward. He sneered again.

“Weakling Federation... when my people come, they’ll make you pay... you’ll die screaming...”

“Oh, will I?” she hissed.

“We’ll drown your men in their own blood... make whores of your women... throw you to the recruits--”

And he stopped when she leveled the phaser to his head. Her expression was demonic, and he froze, his breathing halted, as though realizing the peril of his situation for the first time.

“Will you?” she challenged, daring him to speak.

He said nothing.

*I could kill him now,* Janeway thought. *I could kill this bastard, and no one would question it.* She knew the crew would be glad. She knew she would be...

Six long months of fighting, of bloodshed... twelve years in the Delta Quadrant. She could justify it. The crew would be indifferent, and if she ever faced Starfleet, she could justify it.

Her anger fought with the faint, nagging voice in the back of her head, the same voice that had urged her to destroy the array, to condemn the crew to the Delta Quadrant. It had brought her nothing but trouble. Torvone had brought her nothing but trouble. Damn morality. Damn principles. Damn Torvone.

But Kathryn Janeway was still a Starfleet Officer.

The basics-- never shoot an unarmed man, never harm the helpless... She’d learned them from her father long before she learned them from Starfleet. The Volkari violated the morality of any decent being... now was she justified in doing the same? Could she cross that line? Could she go from a rash, justified act, to outright, premeditated murder? Because now she wasn’t caught in the whirlwind of rage. She wasn’t heedless of the consequences. Thanks to the Doctor, she knew exactly what she was about to do, what she would violate, and the consequences of her act.

Her weapon was a phaser. His was only words.

She took a step back, then another, fighting her instinct for murder as though it were a tangible force. She forced the phaser down to her side. She turned herself around and slowly made her way to the door.

Somewhere, she was vaguely aware of the Volkari throwing taunts at her. She was beyond the point where they’d have any impact.

“Janeway to the Doctor,” she heard herself say, her voice strangely hollow.

“Doctor here,” came the EMH’s nervous voice.

“Doctor, I want you to return Jenny Delaney’s body to Deck 14.”

“Will she... be unnecessary?”

She heard the uncertainty in his words.

Finally, Janeway replied through gritted teeth, “Our... guest... refuses to eat. We can only respect his wishes.”

The relief in his voice was audible as he replied, “Yes, Captain.”

“And Doctor?”

“Captain?”

“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will delete your personality subroutines. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Janeway out.”

THE REST OF THE JOURNEY

*We can only respect his wishes.* Just a few words, and she accorded a status to the Volkari, she acknowledged his right to live, and die, as a sentient being. She allowed an enemy a reprieve from murder, an extended death as opposed to a quick one, for the sheer sake of remaining a good Starfleet Officer.

The mistake she’d made. The terrible mistake.

Some part of her applauded herself for her own righteousness, disregarded the sheer reality of it all. She’d accepted the Doctor’s views, forgetting that his perspective was tainted by subroutines, an inability to feel pain, and a sheer lack of life experience. She had no such excuse. What had she expected? That the prisoner would meekly accept starving to death ?

Voyager didn’t have the power for force fields. Mechanical restraints alone held the Volkari to his biobed, and not for long after he began working at them.

* * *

It was a quiet night and almost five days later when she found Harry on duty for a volunteer Engineering shift, working on the collapsed lighting panel in her quarters.

When the door closed, he looked up from the fallen console to see her standing there, gazing at him with a pensive look on her face.

“Captain?”

“Harry.”

“Kathryn,” he amended. “How’s it going?”

“You’re working? I thought these were your off hours.”

He shrugged. “I thought I’d put in a little face time. Besides, there’s not much else to do, with the holodecks down. You did mention your lights were out.”

She circled around to his side of the console, and lowered herself to the deck next to him. Harry flicked off the hypo spanner, and directed his full attention to her.

Kathryn asked, “How have you been, Harry? These last few months, I mean.”

He looked at her curiously, and then smiled uncertainly. “I’m fine. Everything’s been fine, considering. Why?”

She turned her head sideways a little to gaze at him. “I was just thinking about you, and here you are. We haven’t had much chance to talk lately.”

“You’ve been busy.” He put the hypo spanner back in its case. “You’ve had a lot on your shoulders recently. You know I’m always here to be your friend.”

“And you have been,” she said with a smile. It wasn’t quite up to the grins of old, but he was glad to see her look a little happier. “You’ve been good to me.”

A smile lit across his handsome face. “Just a part of my job, ma’am.”

She grasped his hand in hers and pumped it once.

“So much of this time, Harry, I don’t know how I would have gotten by without you. You’ve been invaluable.”

He squeezed her hand back. “Thanks. It’s good to hear that from you.” They sat there a moment, seated together on the hard deck, hands locked. Harry gathered his courage, and with a little tug, pulled her against his side and looped his arm around her shoulders. She didn’t resist the gesture, to his surprise and relief. She even let her head rest on his shoulder.

They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Her eyes grew heavy, her entire body relaxed in the sudden intimacy. He leaned his cheek against her, relishing the sheer peace of the moment, alone together in her darkened quarters. It was times like this, the rare times like this, that he wondered if maybe, in some deep part of her, she might regard him as more than a friend. Maybe--

And then they heard a vague scuffling, getting closer and closer.

“What could that be?” Janeway wondered, sitting up straight, staring across the room towards the sound.

“Sounds like someone’s in the Jeffries Tube,” Harry replied. He shot her a reassuring smile, and rose to his feet. “The Engineering team’s been using them to get around the ship. Someone must have forgotten that I was already working here...”

Janeway sat impassively and watched as Kim crossed the quarters, knelt, and started to pull off the panel to access the Jeffries Tube.

“Hey, I’ve got it covered--” He started to pull at the panel.

It jerked off and propelled itself into his face, knocking him to the ground. He cried out, and his hands covered his face, dark blood running between his fingers. Janeway sprang to her feet as a figure slid out of the tube, and Janeway realized that the person had kicked the panel into Kim‘s face.

She was frozen a split second in surprise and confusion, and the Volkari pounced on Harry.

Janeway darted across the quarters, and realized with a start that it was Torvone’s fists flashing viciously across Harry’s jaw. Prolonged starvation had drained Harry of his old strength, whereas the Volkari’s five days had little consequence to him.

Janeway rushed in, grasped the massive shoulders of the Volkari, attempted to jerk him bodily off of Kim, or at least distract him enough for Kim to wriggle out. Torvone paid her no heed, a large arm thrusting out and easily knocking her reed like body across the room, slamming her into the wall.

A few moments passed, and she was there, stunned and dizzy, caught in the sheer unreality of the situation. Torvone... She’d left the damn bastard alive...

Security. She needed to call security.

Her hand fumbled at her chest, and she realized the com badge had come off in the fight. Harry’s struggles seemed to be dying down, and she didn’t want to think right now of the implications of that.

She spotted the cold metal glinting a little away on the rug, and lanced her hand towards it.

A heavy boot came down onto her arm, pinning it to the floor. She tried to pull back, but her arm was trapped painfully. With a decidedly deliberate insolence, Torvone bent down, picked up the badge, tossed it into the still open Jeffries Tube. Then, he reached out a heavy fist and slammed the access panel shut.

“Torvone, you’d better--” she began, but then he reached down, grasped her by the collar, hauled her up to her feet like she was weightless. A few steps forward and he had her pinned back against the wall. She pressed her hands against his chest weakly. “Torvone--”

His clamped his fist over her mouth, his fingers digging into the flesh of her cheeks. “Not a word.” He stared at her with an unsettling intensity. “Weakling Federation... How does it feel to find our positions reversed?”

Janeway held his gaze in silence. She felt a wave of apprehension, fearing he’d follow the example of his predecessors and kill Harry as some sort of punishment.

“I told you...” he said quietly, “..that you would die screaming...” He was breathing heavily. She could feel his chest rise and fall against her, and she wasn’t sure if he was winded from the fight, or breathless in anticipation.

When he lifted his hand a little, Janeway said quietly, “Torvone... you’ll never escape this ship if you kill me.” She stared up into chilling eyes that were too close for her liking.

“Escape?” he stared at her, an unsettling look on his face. “Escape to live a life of dishonor? To tell my family I suffered as a prisoner rather than attaining glory in death? No... There will be no escape. All I seek is revenge.”

Before her mind could sort through the implications of his words, he drove his fist into her stomach, doubling her over painfully. She fought to breathe as his other fist slid from her mouth and slammed into her ribs. She heard something crack. A wave of agony rocked through her, and when her breath came back, she could hear herself whimper as her knees gave way. He must have broken her ribs... She tried to support herself, couldn’t...

He caught her around the waist, dragged her with him into the other room. It was then she thought of screaming, but then she remembered that the quarters around hers were vacant this shift, and no one outside of those would hear her...

He tangled his hand into her hair, and continued to pull her to the other side of the room, towards her desk. He lifted a bottle off her desk, clutched it by the neck, and slammed it back down, shattering the glass. Kathryn tensed as he brought it towards her, realizing that he was going to use it on her... either to slit her throat or worse...

He tossed her forward over the desk, carelessly onto broken shards of glass. She felt them chafe her skin, and struggled to push herself up, only to feel his hand on her back, pushing her roughly back down onto the desk. She wriggled forward, and a hand grabbed her arm, wrenched it back, twisted it up between her shoulder blades.

Helpless now, she lay there fighting for breath, hearing him do the same behind her. A few months ago, she might have been able to put up a fight. She might have been strong enough mentally, if not physically. But something in her withered now, and she felt her cheek sink against the cool surface of the desk.

Everything slowed as if in a dream, and a cool fog descended over her. The pain in her ribs faded to only an awareness, the glass against her torso was a mere speck in her comprehension.

She felt him press up against her, behind her. He pushed his torso against her buttocks in a lewd gesture, and he pressed the broken bottle against her skin. He raked the jagged edge forward, across her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut, the cry of pain frozen by the realization that she didn’t feel it.

He carved up her skin for what seemed like a few minutes, trying to elicit a scream, before he gave up and tossed the glass to the ground. Then he was tearing at her pants.

“...Federation bitch... you’ll pay for my dishonor...” Muttering. He was only muttering. She didn’t listen to him.

Since you’re sleeping on a regular basis, Seven, I see no more need for a regeneration alcove

Regeneration is more efficient.

He was probing with his fingers, intently, seeking--

Perhaps. But I can’t see the use of expending 0.9% of the ship’s energy supply every year simply so you can have a more efficient means of sleep. You’ll have to make do like the rest of the crew.

-- pressing against her, finding--

I should have let her keep the regeneration alcove... It centered her.

She was vaguely aware of a sudden, brief pain, momentarily worse than the cuts she had on her back. It faded with repetition.

Biggest mistake of your life, Chakotay... That wedding. You two weren’t right for each other... I wasn’t right for either of you...

One of the few people who have mastered the art of callousness. How long ago did the Doctor say that to her? Did he really think that?

The world flipped over, and she was lying on her back now staring at the gray ceiling. Torvone’s ugly, cartoonish face leered over her, breath hot and sour, teeth crooked. He tore her shirt open, and she noticed blood on his hands. It was hers. He was muttering something, his body jerking spasmodically against hers--

We’re still here after twelve years of traveling, and I think we’re going to die out here... But we haven’t yet, Mr. Harren, have we?

I came here as a friend. Harry. The tears glinting in his eyes broke her heart, now, looking back. Was he still alive? She couldn’t see him. The world was blurred, and she realized that there were tears streaming from her eyes. She could hear a muffled sound issuing from her throat each time Torvone jerked. Pain?

The Doctor looked with condemnation. My crew is starving to death.

Her eyes, closed, suddenly snapped open. The crew! What--

Torvone shoved her back down, and she was aware of a restraint other than his arm keeping her down. He’d broken her ribs. She couldn’t belive she’d forgotten.

Tal Celes’s pained eyes flashed through her mind and Torvone stiffened, then collapsed onto her, breathing raggedly. She thought of Noah Lessing terrified in the cargo bay as she tried to kill him when Torvone pulled back and stared in triumph... empty as Napoleon’s triumph when he claimed the burning Moscow...

She let her head slump back, her thoughts whirling listlessly, her body disconnected. All she could feel was a strange, powerful vibration through her body, like an electrical current. She could float if she wanted to, right out of her body, right out of her ship, into the darkness of space...

And Harry broke the vase over Torvone’s skull. She heard the Volkari grunt before he collapsed.

When he fell, she almost slipped off the desk to the floor. Harry grabbed her, and tried to cover her, calling in a broken voice for the Doctor, hugging her to him.

“It’s okay, Harry. I’m fine now,” she told him, but her voice only came out as a dim whisper, and he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Gods... I’ll kill him for you, I’ll kill the bastard, are you all right? We’ll get you all fixed up...”

“...I’m fine. I’m all right. I’m not in any pain...” She told him, but he again didn’t seem to hear.

“We’ll get the Doctor here, and he’ll make everything feel better...”

She whispered the words to him over and over... “I’m fine... everything’s fine....”

Harry merely held her and repeated words of comfort, as though she weren’t even speaking.

You can transcend it all, she later told Chakotay. It stops mattering to you after awhile. I stopped feeling fear, and now I’ve stopped feeling pain. There’s nothing to hurt in the present, only the pain of the past.

When she woke the next day, Torvone was dead and her hair was completely white. She ran her fingertips through it, marveling at it with one part of her mind, unsurprised in another. But she was fine. She went onto the bridge as soon as she was physically fit, and she felt fine. She smiled and laughed. The reason the crew looked at her with troubled eyes eluded her.

Voyager left Volkari space, in such a short time to her. Food, real food, began to trickle back into the mess hall.

“I wish I could change it all,” she said sometimes. She’d smile distantly at Harry. “I think it all started to go wrong when Seven died.”

“Kathryn...”

“It’s fine now, but we’ve already done all the damage--”

His hands on her shoulders. “Kathryn, I feel like I’m losing you. Please talk to me.”

He sometimes even alluded to their swim in the ocean. “You swam farther and farther from shore, and I had to catch you... I feel like that again, only you’re too far for me to reach this time.”

But every time she told him the truth, that everything was fine now, that she finally understood, his eyes grew more troubled, his face more distant. How close they’d become... and how far they began to drift.

She turned back to Chakotay, who at least seemed reassured by her cheer, cheer as empty as his continued reverence for his late wife.

Things became peaceful between them, for the most part. Sometimes he got drunk and cursed at Kathryn... claimed he’d always loved her, that he’d been robbed. And sometimes Kathryn got drunk and would weep endlessly, as though the universe had destroyed itself. They never drank heavily at the same time. They always needed the other sober, holding to their own denial, so as not to make their own seem real.

The EMH was shame-faced around her for a long time, despite her attempts to reassure him.

“It’s not your fault. I’m fine... We know now, what I should have known thirteen years ago...” he always stopped listening to her at this point, but she repeated it in her head like a mantra-- “Never help strangers before your own crew...”

There was a voice. It used to point out her obligations, her limits. It told her what she could not dare strive for, achieve, it told her right from wrong. It told her she could not murder. It told her she could not allow suffering. And when she woke up and realized her hair was white, she also realized that she couldn’t hear that voice anymore.

Seven of Nine, proud and erect, staring with ill-concealed Borg insolence at the humans before her. Seven of Nine, a faint smile on her lips, stepping into the unfamiliar territory of human emotion.

Chakotay grinning at Kathryn, reclining comfortably in the sailboat beneath a moonlit sky. The winds of Lake George blowing through her hair. A moment, perfect and right, before they began to move from each other.

Large arms restraining her in a cold, murky ocean. Harry Kim’s hand on hers, the awareness suddenly come and all too quickly gone between them, a possibility never realized.

Kathryn Janeway, standing proud on the bridge of her ship, a thrill of fear and anticipation trembling up her spine as she ordered Lieutenant Paris to set a course for home through an alien land.

Kathryn Janeway was invincible. She could defeat the Volkari. She could defeat the Borg Queen. She could defeat pain and fear. She could defeat that voice of conscience, and by God, she could now defeat the Delta Quadrant. She’d defeat time itself, if she had to. All that could hurt her now were the shadows of a universe already past.

The Starship Voyager forged on, plunging endlessly through the Delta Quadrant night.

THE END

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