Title: Tuvix Too
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: K+
Keywords: Janeway/Chakotay friendship, Janeway/Tuvok friendship
Summary: An interlude between "Tuvix" and "Resolutions"
Disclaimer: TPTB own them, but they didn't do what I wanted with them, so I'm borrowing them for a bit. I'll give them back when I'm done.
Feedback: Yes please.
Archiving: Anywhere.

Tuvok:

I am reborn. I feel the transporter and I am new and whole again. It is a curious sensation. I had become accustomed to being one with the Talaxian, but now I welcome my newfound freedom.

The first thing I see with my own eyes is the captain. She has a most peculiar look on her face. In all the years I have known her, I have never seen that look. It is most disturbing. It would be illogical to do so, but if I were to make an emotional judgment, I suppose I might assess her mood as "haunted."

She greets me, and I look back at her, evenly. She is definitely happy to see me, but also, and quite alarmingly, disturbed by the sight of me. If I were to allow my emotions to surface, I suppose I would be saddened by the way she quickly exits Sickbay. Instead, I am only concerned. I consider what she has just done, and postulate that it may have a deleterious effect on her, especially given the things that I…that Tuvix said to her just a few minutes ago. I remember it all. I do not regret it, as the past cannot be changed, and therefore regret is illogical. However, I feel a responsibility to rectify any damage I have caused.

As soon as the doctor releases me, I send a quick text memo to Chakotay. I know he is on the bridge, and I do not want to risk an audio communiqué because humans, and especially my Captain, are very particular about privacy in these matters. The note is short and precise.

To: Commander Chakotay
From: Lieutenant Tuvok
Neelix and I are individuals again and well. However, I believe the Captain may be in need of assistance. Ordinarily, I would approach her myself, but in this case, I believe that would be unwise.

I hope that the commander will understand my meaning and provide assistance as necessary. A ship with a "haunted" captain is most definitely a security risk. In addition, I do not wish my friend pain.

Kathryn:

I did what I had to do. I traded one life for two. As Tuvok and Neelix materialize on the biobed, relief washes over me, and I am glad to have my friends back. I tell them so.

However, the lingering dirty feeling inside of me, the result of what I have done, eats at my core. I feel the need to flee, and I quickly exit into the corridor. Luckily, it is empty, and for a moment I feel an overwhelming urge to cry.

Starfleet captains, however, do not cry, especially not as a result of the performance of their duties. To do so would be a weakness. As soon as a captain begins to question her decisions and actions, she is no longer an effective authority. So I swallow my regret, steel myself, and head to my quarters, allowing myself some time to regain my composure. I am not ready for the looks of accusation and hatred I may receive. I am not even ready for sympathy, if they support what I have done.

I did what I had to do. It is with this knowledge that I enter my quarters and sit on my couch. I grab a PADD, hoping to distract myself with work.

However, my thoughts return to Tuvix, to the man I just killed in cold blood, and to his disturbing words before he died. The accusation, his final acquiescence, and his assertion of forgiveness to all of us for what we were about to do. Oh God, what have I done?

Before I realize it, bile is rising in my throat. I run for the bathroom but I do not make it. My knees give way, and I am on all fours, soiling the rug with the contents of my stomach. It is too sudden for me to be ashamed.

Chakotay:

Tuvok's message is a warning. I can only imagine what the captain has just been through. I'm not sure I would have been able to make that choice, and I admire the tenacity she has shown once again with her determination. It is what makes her such a great leader, but underneath that authority figure, she is also human, and there was no right way to resolve our situation. Any human would have trouble reconciling whichever decision she made.

I briefly contact the doctor, who confirms Tuvok's news that Tuvok and Neelix are back. He also tells me something that affirms the sense of urgency I gleaned from Tuvok's note. The doctor refused to perform the operation. His ethical subroutines would not allow it. The captain had done it herself.

Judge, jury, and executioner. That is how she must see herself. This is why Tuvok is concerned, and he is right. I practically run to the turbolift, barely remembering to give Lieutenant Paris the bridge.

"Computer, locate Captain Janeway," I command.

"Captain Janeway is in her quarters," is the curt reply.

"Deck Three," I order.

When the turbolift arrives, I run again towards her quarters. I stop at her door briefly, and am about to ring the chime when I hear the sound of someone…of her…getting sick. I forgo the usual protocol and enter my command code to override the door.

What I see frightens me and breaks my heart. Our strong captain is on all fours, vomiting onto the rug. I run to her as the door swishes closed behind me. I fall to my knees beside her and put my hands on her shoulders, trying to offer as much comfort as I can without making her any more uncomfortable than she already is. I do not risk offering words of platitude; they will be hollow, and she will know it.

She does not push me away, and I wonder whether she even realizes I am present. When the heaving subsides, she is still for several minutes, and I keep my hands on her shoulders, letting her know I am there. Finally, she rises from the floor and my hands fall down to my sides. She does not look at me. Calmly, she walks to the couch and sits down as if nothing has happened, and I am terribly worried.

But I know that when she is ready, she will talk to me. At least she has not kicked me out of her quarters, nor shown any anger at my intrusion. Eying her, I rise from my knees, replicate a glass of water and some supplies, set the water on the coffee table, then return to the foul puddle on the rug and begin cleaning.

The first words out of her mouth are cold but reassuring. "You don't have to do that."