Walking Wounded
Seven watches the weakened figure of Janeway lying on the bio-bed in Sickbay.
The Doctor tries not to look alarmed but she can read him too well. The hope of a recovery is slim. She curses herself for not being there, for not getting Janeway out quickly enough.
Kathryn stirs. Pain shoots through her body. She's unable to feel her legs and can barely move her head. Through the mist of hurt, she manages to recognise her surrounds. She feels the presence of someone beside her.
"Captain?"
Kathryn relaxes - it's Seven. She's alright, Seven will see to it that she's safe. Kathryn feels herself collapse back into blackness.
Seven glances at the Doctor, expecting him to do something. He simply shakes his head in defeat. There is nothing more to be done, the Captain's exposure to the poisonous gas was too severe. All he can do is hope that her death isn't too painful.
I wish to speak but can't. I wish to hold her but can't. I feel her look at me in such a way that all I hold sacred fades away. I want to explain, but she wouldn't understand. I feel death calling me, enfolding me in its dark serenity…
The Doctor sends for Seven as soon as the Captain's condition deteriorates but she is too late. She will be forever too late.
Kathryn's body is still. So still. It looks as though it were sculpted from clay. Seven moves towards it: she isn't afraid. She takes the Captain's small, pale hand in hers. The blood that once pulsated through her veins has stopped. Her body is lifeless. Seven feels despair coarse through her, it forces its way from her gut to her lips where it spills out into her voice - she releases a pitiful noise. A cry. A plea for the woman in front of her to get up, to get up and be well again.
The Captain does not move. Her eyes remain closed, her lips pressed firmly together.
Seven leans forward and kisses Janeway's forehead. The skin against her lips is smooth. Smooth and cool. She stands; the touch of Kathryn still pressing against her lips.
She lets go of Kathryn's hand. She wants to hold onto the memory of her but she can't do that while she looks upon this empty frame. This vessel which had once possessed a soul so unique, so vital to her.
Seven feels her insides compress; she cannot breath and her throat feels as if it is being cut from the inside.
Seven has never experienced pain like this. She is aware of grief on behalf of a loved one, she is aware of physical pain inflicted by force but nothing has prepared her for this brutal assault on her senses. Her emotions attack her - fear, love, shock, helplessness, anger, injustice - besiege her. So many thoughts whirl through her head that she cannot distinguish one from the other. Her mind is chaos. Her hand reaches out and takes Kathryn's. She cannot accept that this is how it ends.
She hears soft weeping behind her but does not turn. She cannot bring herself to see someone else sharing in her pain; that would finish her. She cannot console herself, how can she console someone else?
She hears a low cry and realizes it has come from her. She clamps her hand over her mouth. She will not be reduced to ruin in this moment - she will save it, she will store the pain and release it later. She doesn't want to waste what few moments she has left with Kathryn shedding tears… she wants to see that golden auburn hair and that sharp profile.
Kathryn will soon be sent the way of her ancestors, released into space to roam the galaxy for eternity. Seven feels glad, glad that Kathryn will stay immortal. Beautifully immortal. She has no more pain, no more suffering and Seven is grateful. The dead are the lucky ones, she tells herself. They have no memories to haunt them, no regrets - just peace.
Seven wants to die. She wants to climb in beside Kathryn and share in her perpetual rest. She wants to take that journey with Kathryn but she has to stay. Voyager needs her. Kathryn needs her to remember, to carry on and so she must stay. But one day she will join Kathryn. One day, they will be together again. She is certain.