“He’s in his office, Captain,” Ayala informed Janeway.

Janeway nodded, and the security guard stepped aside. She warily crossed sickbay, and saw the Doctor sitting at his desk through the glass partition.

“Doctor,” Janeway greeted, her voice without warmth.

“Captain.”

His face was grim. Like he should be, Janeway thought angrily.

As she approached his desk, she threw a glance back towards the biobed where Seven of Nine‘s dead body lay.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He was silent.

“Dammit, you said you loved her!” Janeway burst out. “How could you do this to her?”

“I did love her!” he shouted, suddenly roused. “I loved her, and I devised the cure for the problem with her neural node out of love. Then she turns around and chooses to explore her emotions with Chakotay... And I guess I just... just...”

“You were intentionally unsuccessful with the operation,” Janeway filled in, her voice cold. “When she org-- when she climaxed, her Borg implants killed her. You told her that her neural node was fixed, and then you let her have sex with Chakotay anyway.”

“Yes,” he said dully. “And I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life.” Silence. Then, “I understand if you want to delete my personality subroutines.”

“What? Why would I want to do that?”

The Doctor blinked. “Captain, surely you aren’t going to let me go unpunished for, esentially, sending her to her death.”

“What’s the point?” Janeway said, exasperated. “I can’t punish you for being who you are.”

With that, she confiscated his mobile emitter.

A week later, she gave it back to him. His time had been served.