(By Penny A. Proctor. Paramount owns Voyager, Janeway, Chakotay and the Doctor. They just don’t seem to know what to do with them all. This is a companion piece to "Unimatrix Zero" part 2, the way it really aired.)
"Doctor, unless you tell me that I need emergency surgery, I am discharging myself now." Kathryn, dressed in mufti, sat on the edge of the biobed with her arms folded and her face immobile, staring at the EMH.
"Captain, less than seventy-two hours ago, your body was more Borg than human. It needs time to heal." Years ago, he had been cowed by her glare, but no more. He glared right back. "You stay here."
She blinked. "It's not good for crew morale for the Captain to be in Sickbay this long."
"That's true." He looked at her appraisingly. "Well, I could discharge you to your quarters, if you promise to rest and avoid even moderate physical activity for another day. Nothing more strenuous than a leisurely stroll to the mess hall, which I assume you'll want to do to let the crew see you up and about."
Her mouth spread in a wry half-smile. "Just when did you learn to negotiate with me like that?"
"About four years ago. Do we have a deal?"
"We do. Believe me, I just want to rest in my own bed. Even a leisurely stroll sounds a little painful at the moment." She slid off the edge of the biobed and stood, ignoring the throbbing ache that spread from the small of her back to her shoulders and the flush of fire that spread across her newly-regenerated skin as the fabric of her fatigues brushed against it.
The Doctor noted her grimace. "I think I should go with you."
"That rather defeats the purpose. The crew won't get much comfort seeing me in your company – no offense intended, Doctor, but the point is to prove I'm on the mend."
"Then let me call Commander Chakotay. Surely, no one will be alarmed by seeing the two of you walking together."
"I'm sure he's busy on the bridge."
The Doctor glared at her again.
"Oh, all right." She leaned back against the bed to wait while he returned to his office to call the bridge. After a moment, she carefully straightened and walked over to B'Elanna's bed. The engineer's eyes were closed and she was curled on her side in a natural and apparently peaceful slumber. Odd, Kathryn thought, feeling a rush of affection, how we seem to recover our innocence in our sleep. She must have looked like this as a little girl, before she ever heard of Maquis, or Vidiians, or Borg. I bet Tom watches her in her sleep just to see that expression.
Then she walked over to the bed where Tuvok lay under the life support arch. The Vulcan's distress over his complete assimilation had been so profound that he had been unable to induce a healing trance. The Doctor had induced a coma to permit the abused organs and tissues the rest they needed to mend. His mind would have to heal itself later.
She stood, a hand resting lightly on the exposed shoulder of her friend, feeling worry and guilt swirling within. How can I help you, my friend? You risked this for me. How do I help you now?
She sensed rather than heard the quiet presence behind her. "That was quick," she said. There was no need to look; she knew Chakotay's presence without the need to see him.
"I was close by. How's he doing?"
With a last look at Tuvok, she turned carefully. All her movements were careful. "I don't really know. We just have to wait, I guess."
He looked at her closely. "Are you sure you’re up to this? Another day in Sickbay won’t break ship’s morale."
"No, but it might break mine." She rolled her eyes in the direction of the Doctor. Then she teased, "Besides, I hear you’re pretty comfortable using my office. I need to get back before you hide all the pencils."
"In that case, may I escort you to your chambers, Captain?"
"Commander, you may."
With the formality of a cadet at a cotillion, he offered her his arm. She started to take it, then winced as even the slight pressure of contact with him inflamed her skin. "Sorry," she said. "I’m still a little sensitive." He nodded, and they started to walk out side by side, but not touching.
The Doctor poked his head out of his office as they went by. "Remember, Captain, minimal activity. And keep that new skin lubricated. I’ve authorized unlimited water rations for you for a week. You should immerse yourself in a hydro bath with moisturizers at least twice a day."
Kathryn looked at Chakotay, wondering if he had put the Doctor up to that. He shrugged, as if to say ‘Don’t look at me.’
"Medicinal baths," she murmured. "If you insist, Doctor. I’ll manage somehow."
As soon as they were in the corridor, she turned to him. "Did you put him up to that?"
"I’d like to take credit for it, but the truth is, it’s been a little busy. The repairs to the warp drive seem to be going slower than they should. Maybe it’s because B’Elanna’s out."
"How bad is it?"
"You’ve seen the reports. We’ve had worse."
As they waited for the turbolift, Ensign Sharr walked past them. She smiled when she saw the Captain, and Kathryn nodded back. The nod set off a shooting pain in her neck that disappeared almost at once, and she was careful this time to not wince.
He knew her too well, though. When they were in the privacy of the lift, he asked, "What about you?"
"I’ve had worse."
"Really? When?"
"All right, from a purely physical standpoint, this is the worst. I admit that regenerating 40% of my skin is not pleasant. But mentally, I’m fine. In a few days, I’ll be good as new."
He considered her for a moment. "Kathryn, that kind of physical trauma often creates an emotional trauma as well. If that happens –"
" I told you, I’m fine."
"- If that happens, just remember that you don’t have to deal with it alone. You can talk to me any time. Or the Doctor."
For a moment she looked stormy, as if the mere possibility that she might have an emotional reaction to the mission was an insult. Then she relaxed, and even smiled. "I’ll remember."
The lift opened, and they walked the short distance to her quarters. Chakotay stopped at her door. "Do you need any help getting settled in?"
"No, I’ll be fine. Thank you."
He nodded. "Let me know if you want company for dinner." Then he turned and continued on his way. Taken aback by his departure, she watched him go. Feeling somehow disappointed, she went inside.
Two steps into her quarters, she stopped short and looked around in amazement. The Starfleet-institutional-beige walls were draped, top to bottom, in huge swaths of fabric in every imaginable shade of oceans and seas - blues ranging from indigo to azure to ice, teal, emerald, aqua, lavender, gray. The straight lines and angles of the bulkheads were softened into curves and arcs and waves. It was almost possible to imagine that she was standing on a beach and looking for the horizon.
And there were fresh flowers – a large vase of black-eyed susans on the dining table, a vase only slightly smaller with irises and daffodils on the ledge above the sofa, a small bowl with a Betazed waxy gardenia of palest pink on the end table next to the her favorite chair. She walked over to breathe in the subtle scent of the gardenia, reminiscent of wild fennel, when she noticed something odd about the chair. It took a moment to realize that the cushions, worn from more years of use than ever intended by Starfleet, had been replaced. The fabric was the same, but when she tested them, they were once again plush and thick.
Before she could absorb all this, a hint of green from the bathroom caught her attention. Curious, she went in and found a basket of ivy that normally resided in the gardens was hanging from the ceiling. There was more - a large jar was filled with bath oil beads, a waterproof pillow now adhered to the side of the tub where her back normally rested, and there was a new grab bar to help her step in and out without straining her back. A stack of old-fashioned, thick terrycloth bath towels were stacked on the ledge of the tub.
A lump began to form in her throat, and she returned to the main room. For the first time she saw a piece of paper on the dining table. "Kathryn," it read, "we thought you might prefer a less technological atmosphere for a few days. Relax and get well."
The note was not signed, but after more than six years together, she knew the penmanship.
She went into the bedroom to change into a nightgown, but at the entrance, she again stopped in surprise. The room was filled with the scent of lavender. Her bed was turned down, and she did not need to touch the sheets to know that the Starfleet-issue had been replaced with satin. Satin that would be soft and cool on her sensitive skin. A long-stemmed red rose lay across her pillow.
She sat on the bed and held the rose, brushing its velvety petals across her cheek. After a moment, she tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to Chakotay."
"Yes, Captain?"
"You succeeded, Commander."
"Captain?"
"You surprised me. You have certainly surprised me." She brushed the rose across her cheek again. "Thank you, Chakotay. It's … peaceful. And very thoughtful."
"I'm glad you like it. There wasn’t time to clean the carpets, so I had to improvise." His smile was audible in his voice. "Rest well, Kathryn."
For several seconds, she sat without moving. Then, smiling contentedly, she laid the rose back on the pillow and went back to the bath.
The water had to be more tepid than she usually preferred, but her tolerance for heat was diminished at the moment. She added the bath oil and then stepped back to strip.
Her reflection looked back at her from the mirror, and when she was nude, she straightened and studied herself. It was the first time she had the chance to see the Doctor's handiwork. The new skin was still pink, and a thin red scar ran from her wrist to elbow on the right arm; the Doctor said it would fade in a few days. Her hand went to her head, touched the larger scar, now hidden by hair, from the optical rod that had been inserted into her brain. If things had gone differently, if the queen had not seized her, her eye would have been replaced with an implant only hours later.
She eased her hands over her breasts and belly, shivering slightly at the touch and marveling at the softness beneath her fingertips. Remembering how it felt when the armor plating had been attached - an endless moment of cold agony followed by a sudden surge of strength. Power replacing the frailty of the human form. The beauty of nature supplanted by the efficiency of technology.
Suddenly the reflection changed. A drone stared back at her, a drone in full body armor with a mechanically enhanced right arm and the ability to link directly with the ship. A drone with soulless dark blue eyes.
With a gasp, she turned away from the mirror, moving too abruptly for her delicate back. Biting her lower lip against the pain, her hand shook as she grasped the new grab bar and lowered herself into the tub. The warm water enveloped her.
Her outraged skin began to quiet and her muscles slowly relaxed. She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back against the waterproof pillow.
Everything is the way it is supposed to be, she told herself. Nothing has really changed. Everything is the way it was.
Two tears escaped from under the closed lids and ran down her cheeks into the bath water.