811A/n: 2020 has been a crazy year that just seems to be getting crazier, but I have finally got this chapter finished and more writing in the pipeline. Enjoy!
The LadyMage posted chapter 9 of 'Happenstance' last night, so you've all got two chapters for your C/7 fix. Check it out!
I still don't own Star Trek: Voyager.
"¿…Mijo?" His mother's voice echoed, reverberated through his head. "¡¿Mijo?!"
'I'm here, Mamá. I'm right here!' He thought frantically, spinning around in desperation, nearly stumbling- arms already stretched out in search of her- as he felt the insidious weight of the burnt-out implants in his back. Aylen was nowhere to be seen, in fact he couldn't make out anything. He was surrounded by grey- a fog so total that it blotted out not only the sun but the ground under his feet. His eyes began to sting, then his nose and throat…he couldn't catch his breath…
Not fog. Never fog. Smoke. Ash.
Realisation slammed into him as it always did- the burn in his eyes shifted to tears and bile filled his scorched mouth. No, no, no, not again… Wake up! Wake up!
On cue, a figure appeared in front of him, slipping tantalisingly out from behind the oppressive cloak that had been thrown over his dreamscape. She stood out, her skin was warm- Bajoran. Her thumb was pushed through the belt loop of her worn, low slung trousers, her head was cocked to show the intricacy of her single earring to best advantage. She wore one of those damn leather jerkins they'd all liked so much, over that red button down he'd, Spirits damn him, ripped open… Indeed, it was open here and now, baring her navel and the curve of each breast….
Her smirk shifted and she caught her bottom lip between too sharp teeth. "Can't catch me." Her grin became malicious, taunting, as her laughter rang out. "Strictly a Maquis operation."
He didn't want to pursue her, would've rather stayed in this abyss, but when she blinked away into the grey it pulled back and he was moving. Running at first, then the world seemed to surge past him, as if it was what was passing him by. 'Dorvan', his dream logic kept insisting- but he also knew it was a jumble of streets and buildings, more often than not nothing to do with either version of his homeworld. A Maquis base there, some vacation spot here… None of it made sense. 'Wake up, wake up now…!'
It wasn't to be, the sequence drew to a halt as it always did and he was steady, fully there again. He was in the forest, Dorvan's forest- the smoke and ash and flame was all lurking in wait for him at the trees' backs, but he was in a clearing. He saw Tuvok first, and it was as jarring as ever, lying flat on his back, pristine uniform bloodied.
The count went up. Ayala and Chell, the Delaneys and Tal. Neelix. He willed his feet to stop propelling him forward, further into the carnage, but nothing was obeying him. Even his horror felt like a distant thing he couldn't fully call on. Then it was B'Elanna, lying curled on her side as if she were asleep, with Tom just behind her. Harry lay face down in the dirt.
The Captain's chair sat at the epicentre, incongruous among the dead leaves on the forest floor around it. As if it had literally been dropped from Voyager and had the bad luck to land here. The Captain's head was thrown back against it at an unnatural angle, her stance no longer in control but ragdoll like, her eyes open and unseeing.
"You found me." Seska's voice was smug and sultry as the phaser in her hand clicked, its charge returning after its last shot.
Seven was at her feet, kneeling as if she were at one of his abuela's Catholic Masses. Ash- falling like rain now- landed on her golden hair. She wore clothes he associated with Annika, the blue tunic and leggings, even that denim jacket around her waist- but she wasn't Annika, her hand was encased in the Borg cage and her optical implant was prominent as her jaw quivered.
This wasn't right. She'd be fighting Seska, would've gone down fighting like the rest, had distrusted and maybe despised her while he'd… Yet when she looked up, it wasn't Seska she stared at with blind rage. "You! You did this!" she snarled, low and vicious. "Why did you do it? Why did you leave me no choice?!"
'Seven, I…' But his plea remained trapped behind his teeth. He couldn't speak, was utterly paralysed.
"Tell her, Chakotay." Seska purred, grinning.
"You can never accept things as they are. You're contrary." Seven spat, "You've dragged us down with you…."
"No…" He whispered, the single word breaking painfully free. It was then he spotted his father, watching mournfully from behind Kathryn in her chair. "Dad, help me!" he choked out, frustration exploding suddenly when Kolopak gave no sign of hearing him. "¡Papá, por favor!" he begged.
Suddenly Seven was before him, still kneeling, with a cruelty in her piercing eyes that didn't belong there as she stared up at him unblinkingly. "Your errors will destroy us all."
"Finish the job." Seska murmured, almost seductively.
His back throbbed, spasmed, and then his arm shot out. The hand was curled into a fist, revealing unsheathed assimilation tubules to his disbelieving eyes just as they plunged into Seven's neck.
She crumpled, a puppet with her strings cut. The only sound- an unholy scream- came from him.
Seska barked a laugh, but her eyes were dead. "Resistance is futile."
He woke up thrashing. His hand connected with something- hard- as Seven's voice reached his ears, "Chakotay…Chakotay!"
A choked cry spilled out of his lips and he fell back on sweat-dampened sheets, staring wildly up at the dark, looming ceiling as Seska's laugh and the thump of Seven's body falling at his feet echoed through his ears. His heaving breaths tightened to near wheezes as his throat closed over.
Something shifted beside him, pressed against his ribs. Seven's knees, he realised dimly, as he felt her hand on his chest. "Tranquilo, älskling. It's over." The three languages ran together, she was panting too, her eyes huge above him- her blue irises were a thin grey rim in the dark. A chunk of hair had been knocked out of her braid and hung down her face in a frayed ringlet. He watched her swallow as a sob bubbled in his own chest. "Computer, lights." She instructed breathlessly.
His streaming eyes protested further at the influx of light but he did take a much needed breath. When he opened his eyes again, what he saw made him wish he'd kept them closed. Red was rapidly spreading over Seven's cheek. He cringed, shuffling up the bed, back pressing hard to the headboard. "Te hice daño…" he whispered, stricken.
"No, you didn't…" Seven grasped his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze, but he yanked them away from her with a strangled shout.
"I fucking backhanded you!" He snapped, fists curling against his face. More than that, in the dream he'd… "¡Dios mio!"
"You were in the midst of a night terror-"
"Seven, if you say it's irrelevant, I swear to God-!" He was on the verge of weeping.
She took a shaky breath of her own and the guarded way she was sitting made him wonder- while his stomach sunk even lower- if he'd also kicked her in his sleep. "It was an accident."
"It-" An animalistic sound between a sob and a snarl was dragged out of him as he tried to breathe- to think, to get the nightmare out of his head. "It…I-" His teeth were chattering and catching her wide eyes, picturing the bruise that would form, made him gag. "I still hurt you! I would never, but-"
Clarity suddenly came to her eyes, her pale face pinching further, and he shuddered, feeling the rejection when she started to shuffle away from him.
The reinforcement in her ankles panged as she sprang off the bed, but her stride was unbroken as she hastened into in the bathroom. However, her movements were clumsy as she rummaged around for the dermal regenerator- palms slick with sweat and heart racing. A glance in the mirror told her that the swipe Chakotay had given her likely didn't even need the treatment but…
"Seven!" His voice was thin and panicky, breaking. "Come back…don't…I'm…I'm sorry…"
She sucked in a breath, her own vision blurring. She slammed the drawer of the cabinet so hard she'd likely broken it. Should she find a sedative? Would that even help? She still had a filled hypo from the Doctor somewhere- top shelf, far right, her cortical node supplied- prescribed after everything with the Viidians. But a dose that would just 'take the edge off' for her and her enhanced metabolism would probably knock Chakotay out…or put his heart in arrythmia. Not an option.
She forced herself back into the bedroom, gripping the regenerator in one hand, the other a fist at her side. "Heal me. Heal me now and we can forget it, mi amor." She kept her voice low, soft, wincing when she heard it quiver despite her efforts." He just stared at her, eyes glassy, and she had to keep a hateful spike of frustration in check. It did push her to press the regenerator into his shaking hands, to sit firmly beside him and stay there when he cringed. "Go on."
He stared dumbly down at the regenerator as if he wasn't sure what to do with it. The terror had washed him out- he was grey, his eyes sunken, breath still ragged but deepening. His gaze flicked guiltily to her cheek- she ignored the twinge of pain as she clenched her jaw and waited- then he clicked the device on. His hand was surprisingly steady as he swept it over her. She gently grasped his wrist to stop him when he started a third go over. "I'm fully repaired."
He gave a rough exhale. "¡Mierda!" His head bowed, "I'm sorry, Seven. That was…I don't know what-"
"A nightmare followed by a panic attack."
"…Yeah." He eventually conceded. He let go of the dermal regenerator, letting it fall into the nest of blankets as he properly took Seven's hand. She smiled at him gingerly and he stiffened. "We…We can't sleep in the same bed if I'm going to-" He trailed off, throat spasming as he tried to swing his legs out of the bed, but Seven refused to move. He glared at her unhappily. "Fuck, I can't let this happen again, just let me-"
"You didn't allow me to leave when my tubules almost got you in my sleep." She pointed out grimly.
He blinked at her. "It's not the same thing!" he protested but his eyes went to the back of his hand, a twin of her Borg one in the…night terror. "That…that was involuntary…" He swallowed thickly.
"It was a nightmare." She shuffled closer to him, her free hand stroking his cheek, feather light. "Like you've just had." She sighed, "Lie back down with me, querido."
He threw his head back, running a quaking hand over his tear stained face. "I…don't want to sleep."
"You don't need to, but you do need to calm down." She advised softly as her hands settled on his shoulders, thumbs working the taut muscles. Relief surged dizzyingly through her when he allowed her to guide him back down onto the bed. Her heart splinted as he curled into a foetal position- facing her this time at least. She put her arm carefully over him, her hand settling between his shoulder blades as he took ragged breaths. She longed to embrace him head to toe, but dared not. He'd jumped too often lately if she as much as grazed his lower back. She'd finally asked B'Elanna about that and she'd only said that 'his counterpart was pretty beat up'. It had been the look on the other woman's face that had stopped her from prying any further. "Computer, lights off."
Eventually his face burrowed into the crook of her neck, his tears warm and prickly on her skin. "Everyone…Everyone was dead…and you, I-"
She had to gulp hard, fight to keep her own breathing steady- a marker for his. "You were alone."
'Yes…no…Seska-' He screwed his eyes shut. 'Don't think about it. It's messed up.' "Perdóname…perdóname…" He mumbled over and over. She kept up a soothing hum in answer, one hand now in his hair as she tried to ignore the ache in her own throat, staring at the wall. Who was he apologising to? Still her? Or to Kolopak over and over?
"Dorvan was on fire?" That seemed to be an- understandable- constant of his nightmares.
The resigned sigh that blew through his nose was painful to hear. "Yeah." He fell silent for a long moment before speaking again, voice even rougher. "…but there was…a lot after that."
'There has been.' She thought as she let herself hug him tighter. Sometimes it was hard to believe that her time on Dorvan had been anything but a dream.
Space enveloped her. It was utterly silent in the vacuum, but then again her mind couldn't fully absorb the information from her eyes, so the lack of input from her ears was likely a positive. Yes, it was black and the stars- both those close in relative terms and the more distant- were flares of white, but there was so much more. Black rippled into midnight blue that morphed into lapis. Starlight wasn't just bright white but the softest of yellows and the fieriest of oranges…
Voyager was a blot on this as she drifted by it. Glaring, imperfect metal shaped from limited humanoid minds. It didn't…belong here. Still, voices hummed. They were calling her back. They'd beam her back, bring her away from this, but she wouldn't be alone…
The serenading hum exploded into white noise. It gouged itself into her mind- seized her attention in its unyielding grasp- then its physical extension appeared before her. A Cube, looming behind Voyager, dwarfing it. 22.954 times the Starfleet vessel's size. 'NO! No…no-' Her voice was already dwindling, sinking into insignificance…
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
Seven woke with a startled jolt. Her fingers brushed her lips, had she been saying the words with the rest? Nausea wormed through her stomach, self-hatred hardening that fear into certainty. Yet Chakotay hadn't stirred. They'd parted a little in their sleep, though his head was still bowed down to curl into her- that was bound to have led to a crick in his neck. He was frowning. She started to reach out to smooth out his brow, but stopped herself, blowing out a sigh as she carefully sat up. Slowly, she swung out of bed, padded across the bedroom on unsteady feet. One click of a command at the door had Lucky barrelling into her legs, snuffling and whining in exasperation. She didn't offer a rejoinder, instead gladly allowing him to lick her metal laced fingers as her breathing evened out. "Hej." She finally mumbled, "Kom igen, frukost." The dog glued himself to her legs right until she'd refilled and offered his dish. She missed his reassuring weight at once and sank onto the couch, her head dropping into her hands. 'This region is irrelevant, peopled by species unfit for assimilation. They're not here…they won't come back…'
Enough. She couldn't afford to spin down into these thoughts again. Not when Chakotay was fighting demons of his own. She'd run another check of Voyager's immediate flight plan when she reached Astrometrics- it would lower efficiency for the day but better that than to be caught unawares. She pushed herself to her feet, closing the bedroom door behind her again- Chakotay could do without Lucky's morning breath- and entered the en-suite.
One glance in the mirror told her he'd done good work with the dermal regenerator, her face was unmarred- if only his guilt was as simple to erase. There was however, the familiar needling burn of nerve feedback down her arm…time for another realignment courtesy of the Doctor. Pulling down her sleeve revealed an angry red rash blooming at the seam where the implants met skin. Back on immunosuppressants then. The Viidians had blown the shaky truce between her nanoprobes and her human immune system painstakingly crafted over years. She may as well be fifteen again. The Doctor would make the argument for regeneration again, to ensure the Borg systems could safely and efficiently dominate once more, but she'd argue back- with Chakotay too when he decided to contribute. The thought of Chakotay made her swallow thickly as she used the hypospray for her daily cocktail of painkillers. After a moment's hesitation she reloaded it when the anti-anxiety meds she'd considered for Chakotay last night and gave herself that too. It would do nothing to hold back the Collective, but the fear would be at the back of her mind rather than the forefront.
Chakotay would need to go to the Doctor too. He couldn't continue like this. Therapy, medication, whatever would help. Time would likely be of the most help, but he was suffering now. She was starting to acknowledge that this wasn't even new behaviour, he'd been known for his insomnia on the Valjean, more than that… They'd never been on good terms during the worse of those spells, and she didn't like to consider if there was correlation between those two factors. If they'd been self-aware and honest with themselves then, maybe Seska would've never got a foothold…
"Seven?"
She turned back towards the bedroom at once, but found herself hovering in the doorway as she saw him sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. "¿Cómo estás?" she asked quietly.
"Well, I slept some, so…" He trailed off, his lips flicking up in what must've been a valiant attempt at a reassuring smile, but only managed to look strained and guilty. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his face once more. "No te preocupes, mi amor."
She echoed his sigh, but allowed herself to shot him a mildly exasperated look. That drew a real chuckle from him and when he held a hand out to her she moved at once to clasp it, stepping smoothly between his knees. His hands settled hesitantly on her hips as his forehead came to rest on her stomach. She, in turn, stroked the back of his neck- her warm breath ruffled his bedhead as she exhaled. "I need to visit the Doctor." He jerked at once, but she held him in place even as his eyes zeroed in on hers. "No te preocupes, mi amor." She repeated his words softly, punctuating her point with a kiss. Not quickly enough to miss his pout though. "I think you need to come with me." She murmured, serious again.
He shrugged his shoulders as he pulled back from her a fraction. "Why?" he asked, listless and unnecessary.
Seven braced her own shoulders. "Because you are enduring a psychological crisis."
He inhaled sharply. "Pull your punches much, Seven?"
She held her ground. "When I feel the situation calls for it."
"And this doesn't?"
"No."
"And…" A brittle laugh left him as a crack. "…you think the Doctor, the Emergency Medical Hologram, can help me with that?"
"…Yes." Her tone became more defensive, "He has every field of medicine incorporated into his programming-"
"That doesn't mean I want to talk to him!" He interrupted heatedly, "He's…jeez Seven, would you talk to him in my place?"
Her eyes closed briefly, "Yes, I had to. For painkillers, for anxiety medication… It wasn't what I would've preferred, but it's what is available."
He swallowed hard, "Lo siento-"
"Unnecessary."
"Still." He murmured.
"Okay." It was her turn to swallow, "Perhaps the Doctor will be able to recommend a counselling programme on the holodeck."
"We're going to need to train a counsellor, the way this journey is going." He said thickly, "The Maquis at least, they're-"
"They come to you."
"I wouldn't change that!"
"I know, älskling."
"But I'll suggest it. The Captain probably wouldn't attend herself, but she'd see the sense in it-"
"A long-term plan doesn't alleviate how you're currently suffering." She reminded him.
"No, it doesn't." He answered in a combative tone before he sagged in on himself. "Okay, I'll come along to…to get a sleep-aid or something…and see what else he suggests. But if the Emergency Counselling Hologram activates out of nowhere, I'm reconsidering…"
Seven cocked her head. "No, his only other programming is the Emergency Command Hologram."
Chakotay's jaw fell open. "The what?!"
"If everyone was incapacitated and the ship was under threat, or if the Captain activated it, the ECH would take over some of Voyager's command protocols."
Chakotay remained incredulous. "But he can only be activated in Sickbay or the holodecks!"
Seven's unruffled mask cracked with amusement. "The ship can be can controlled as easily from Sickbay as from the Bridge with valid access, Chakotay."
"Yeah, I know that, but-" He choked on a stunned laugh, "You're really not joking." He baulked, "Jesús, María y los ángeles…" He muttered under his breath, ignoring Seven's raised brow at the religious language, "Let's hope we never have to activate that programme."
Seven's lips quirked up. "I concur."
The Doctor glanced at the time on his console, fingers starting to tap alongside his foot. True, he didn't need Kes' help- he had specifically designed to be able to run Sickbay singlehandedly after all- but he did appreciate her presence and being shackled as he was to Voyager's limited holo-emitters meant that he couldn't allow anyone with promise in the medical field to slack off. Not with Voyager's track record of harrowing near-misses anyway. Thankfully, before he could dwell too much on those, Kes swept gracefully in, smiling wide, eyes sparkling. It was difficult to make an attempt at stern when she was that enchanting- his lips curved up fondly even as his voice was flat. "You're late."
Her cheeks pinkened, eyes slipping away from his, abashed. "Sorry." Her smile remained though, undiminished, "My lesson with Lieutenant Tuvok went on a little long today."
"Today, yesterday, and the day before. You'd think a Vulcan would be more attuned to punctuality."
A soft giggle, though she tried for seriousness. "I'll try to keep a closer eye on the time from now on."
The Doctor nodded, curiosity- though probably of the indulgent variety- lighting up his face. "So, how was school today?"
"Wonderful!" she enthused, "Tuvok helped me with a sensory focus exercise. We worked on my pre-cognitive skills and I learned how to self-induce a hypergogic mental state-" She stopped, excitement and pride draining out of her as she sensed who'd just entered Sickbay. Seven of Nine's face was an utterly blank slate, giving no indication that she cared about, or had even heard, what Kes had just said- but Kes knew that wasn't so and self-consciousness and unease squirmed in her stomach as it tended to around the ex-drone who'd made her warnings over the Ocampa's- her- abilities so clear and her reasons for making said warnings so opaque.
"Commander, Lieutenant, good morning." The Doctor greeted amiably. A twitch of his brow was his only comment on the fact that the former was out of uniform. "What brings you two to my Sickbay?" His eyes zeroed in on Seven, "Are your implants causing you trouble?" he asked sympathetically.
"I require general maintenance." She admitted. Kes noted that her silver topped fingers laced a little tighter through Chakotay's- he looked not only tired, but distinctly uncomfortable.
He cleared his throat, but the act didn't erase the roughness from his voice. "I need to talk to you Doctor, in private, if you don't mind."
The Doctor's eyes widened a little in concern, though he was quickly a picture of professionalism. "Of course, we'll go into my office." His gaze flicked distractedly between Kes and Seven, "Are you happy to have Kes see to your maintenance or would you like to wait?"
"I know what is required, for the most part." Seven said quietly, "Kes can do it." She pressed a dry kiss to the side of Chakotay's mouth, murmured something to him under her breath, before releasing his hand to perch on the biobed. Chakotay seemed…unmoored for a moment before following the Doctor into the office, the door swishing shut behind them.
Kes moved to the instruments' table, quickly finding the tricorder specifically calibrated to Seven's mangled physiology, then approached the biobed cautiously. "You're sure you're okay with me doing this?"
The other woman started to shrug, but a blink-and-you'd-miss-it wince told her that was painful. "You've done it before."
"Under the Doctor's supervision…"
"If you are uncomfortable, I can wait for the Doctor. Chakotay must have his time first, however."
Kes nodded hastily, turning the tricorder on to move this forward. "Let's see what I can do."
Seven just nodded, angling herself awkwardly- painfully- on the biobed, as far from the office as she can get, and Kes realised she was probably doing her best not to overhear- impossible with her hearing, so at least trying to ignore it. The gentle beeps of the tricorder were the only sound for a few minutes before Seven suddenly said, "Tuvok is…training you?"
Kes blinked. "Yes, he is." She felt her hackles start to rise, the same flicker of temper that would flare when the elders would tell her not to go above ground, and she'd always gone anyway. They'd been right, in their own way, but she definitely had been too. And if anyone had a right to be cynical on this ship- afraid- it was probably Seven of Nine.
She sighed, "…Good."
Kes' hands froze, about to load a hypospray. "I need to have control, after what happened with the Vidiians-" She swallowed, "Yeah, it is good."
"Tuvok will be careful." Seven said neutrally, unblinking gaze giving away nothing.
A high-pitched whine, enough to make both women cringe, suddenly filled the Sickbay. "What is that?!" Kes exclaimed.
Seven hopped swiftly off the biobed, "Doctor? Chakotay?" She called out, snatching the tricorder out of Kes' hand before cautiously approaching the epicentre of the sound, an innocuous storage cabinet.
Chakotay poked his head out of the office, grimacing that the sound. "We hear it too, querida."
The Doctor's eyes had narrowed warily, but he came on the cabinet much more gamely than Seven- invulnerable as he was- and wrenched the door open. A petri dish was shuddering, quaking- it was almost off its shelf. "That's…the Caretaker's remains."
"Mierda." Chakotay cursed, scowling as he rapped his comm. badge. "Captain, you'd better come down to Sickbay right away…"
Almost simultaneously, Seven had hailed B'Elanna. "Torres here." She answered, "What is it, Sev-What's that noise?"
"We're going to be bringing a specimen to the mass spectrometer."
"…Okay, I'll get it fired up. What kind of specimen?"
"…The Caretaker's remains."
"…The fossilized goo? Seven, we already-"
"I'm aware of that B'Elanna, but said fossilized goo is currently moving and…squealing."
"Kahless' blood…" B'Elanna muttered, "That should be the weirdest thing I've ever heard you say, but nope. I'll be right there."
A/n: Please review. :)
