Secrets are a Prison

CW: Mentions of past pregnancy loss

2375

"So, I hear I should call you 'Dr. ch'Tannah' now," I said to Sinta, Elentia's brother, as we sat down for our first session since the Krenim Rebellion two years prior. It felt incredibly strange to be a patient in my own office, sinking into the cushions of a couch and seeing someone else in my wingback chair.

Sinta chuckled, his amber eyes sparkling just like his sister's. "Yes, evidently I have the same level of education and experience as a clinical psychologist. But, I still want you to call me 'Sinta,' as always."

"Alright, Sinta. Still, it's a big milestone among us feds— being awarded a doctorate— so congratulations."

"Thank you," he said, dipping his head. Strands of black hair fell from his low ponytail, swishing against the side of his tawny-beige face as he straightened. He didn't seem to mind them. "Let us begin with some simpler questions before we get into the more difficult areas. Alright?"

I took a deep breath and nodded.

Personal Log: Stardate 52776.4

I just returned from my first session with Sinta. It was strange on so many levels— being a patient in my own office, being assessed by someone other than Schmullis, being asked about my mental health problems in the past several months, and being unable to hide my feelings.

Sinta confirmed Schmullis' assessment that my psychosis was a transient condition brought on by stress, rather than something chronic. He also re-diagnosed me with PTSD— this time for my experiences in the gravity well, then complicated by my return to Voyager, the nanoprobe treatment, and our interactions with the Borg. And, he said that I'm still in a low-grade depression, which— well, yeah, of course I am.

He promises we will work through it all together.

I didn't tell him about Captain Janeway's visit, the night she told me the truth about my genetic modifications. I also left out Alixia and the dreams. I would have told him— truly— but I can't. He would be required to report both to Starfleet immediately.

Then I'd definitely lose my commission, regardless of our circumstances out here.

I think he sensed it, though— sensed that I was holding back dangerous truths. He must have, given how well-trained he is in using his rare gift for the profession. Yet, he said nothing.

When I know all that Alixia needs me to know, and she finally allows me to talk about the dreams, I will tell him. I will.

As for my enhancements— well, I guess that will just come out if and whenever the captain decides it needs to.

By the time I left my appointment with Sinta, Riley and Orum had departed Voyager to make their trip back to the Nekrit Expanse. Elentia stayed behind with her aide, intending to return to Krenim space once her brother's business was finished.

I went straight from the appointment to the CSO's office on deck seven. It wasn't a space I used frequently— I preferred to work out of my counseling office— but it was good for briefing my department heads.

After concluding that day's briefing, I dismissed everyone, then quietly pulled Lieutenant Megan Delaney aside. Once we were alone, I directed her to sit, and settled my own body into the chair beside her.

Weaving an abundance of compassion into my voice, I gently began to explain. "Meg, I wanted to let you know about something we learned just yesterday. For now, only the senior staff of Voyager and Equinox know, but I spoke with Captain Janeway about bringing you in the loop, and she approved. But I will need your word that what I'm about to tell you will not be discussed with anyone outside of senior staff— not even your sister."

Her hazel eyes reflected the dread she must have felt. Only one subject could have led me to take this course of action.

Annika.

Megan nodded, silky brown waves of hair swishing freely around blue-clad shoulders. "I understand. You have my word."

I took a breath. "Yesterday, we got a visit from Dr. Riley Frazier and Orum tr'Khevek from the former-Borg cooperative that Chakotay and I met in the Nekrit Expanse. They have recently allied with the Krenim Commonwealth, and are preparing to work with the Unimatrix Zero rebellion against the Collective."

Megan's eyes never left mine as she followed my every word.

"Riley and Orum told us about a piece of Borg technology that can teleport people across great distances— tens of thousands of lightyears or more if the conditions are right— which the Borg generally use to send captured individuals to a centralized location. This way, they won't be lost if a ship is destroyed before those victims can be integrated into the hive mind."

I paused to take another breath. "Meg, Orum thinks there's a good possibility that Annika teleported herself off the sphere before it self-destructed. He didn't want to get our hopes up, but he reviewed Harry's sensor readings from the Equinox and said that's what it looked like to him."

Her eyes filled with tears. She dipped her head and dabbed at her face with the sleeve of her uniform. Then, taking a deep breath, she looked up at me again. "How likely?"

"After he showed us what to look for, we ran a dozen simulations. It looks pretty likely. We calculated 87.6% odds that she was not on board when it blew."

Megan nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Of course she wasn't," she whispered.

I leaned forward. "Do you know something? Did she say anything to you indicating her plans that day?"

Megan shook her head. "No, nothing. But I—" She huffed a laugh. "I should have known she had an escape planned."

"What makes you say that?"

"If Annika is anything, she's efficient. It's not that I think she wouldn't sacrifice herself for us, because she would. But, why waste life if there's no need to? If she had an out, I have no doubt that she would have taken it. And, as committed as she was to seeing this Unimatrix Zero thing through, I have no doubt that's where she is. It's where she belongs." A single tear escaped from Megan's eye, sneaking quickly down the slope of her cheek and disappearing under her chin. "I only wish I could have gone with her."

At Tuvok's request, I met with him in his quarters immediately after my shift. He wanted to explain his strange comment from the day before.

I sat on his couch, warming my hands around a cup of Vulcan spice tea.

"I must warn you," he said as he took a chair across from me, "that my explanation requires bringing up a difficult topic."

"It has to do with the mind melds on the gravity-well planet, doesn't it?"

He inclined his head. "It does, indeed. If our conversation becomes too overwhelming for you, we can continue at a later date. However, I believe it is better for you to understand sooner, rather than later."

"If our conversation overwhelms me, will you know? Without me telling you?"

"Yes."

Another person from whom I could no longer hide my inner life. "How?"

"Do you recall the circumstances surrounding our first mind meld?"

I looked away, fighting the swell of emotions at his question. My throat was so tight, I could barely produce sound. "I remember enough."

"Do you recall the meld itself?"

I glared at him. "Do you sense overwhelm yet?"

He ticked an eyebrow. "No, I do not."

"Yes," I answered, "I remember. The stream, the sun, the woods—" I swallowed a sob. "The sparrow." Tears filled my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks, and I wiped them away. "I remember. I remember almost drowning. I remember a man singing a Vulcan lullaby— I suppose that was you."

Tuvok nodded.

"I thought—" I closed my eyes, the pressure becoming too much. "I thought I was you for a moment. I couldn't sort my identity out. And then I almost drowned, but the voice— your voice— drew me out again. Gave me strength to— to let him go."

I almost felt as if Tuvok was holding my hand, but we weren't even close to touching. "And the second mind meld," he prodded. "What can you recall of it?"

I opened my eyes. "Personally, not much. Tom said I was catatonic. He said he had to beg you to perform the second meld. He, uh—" I glanced down at the liquid in my cup. "He didn't know how much it would cost you. If I had been able to stop him—"

"Had you been capable of interfering, the meld would not have been necessary."

My chest ached with the weight of my failure. I tightened my grip on the cup, my hands beginning to tremble. "Still, I should have tried. I shouldn't have let him— let you—"

"Miss Eelo," Tuvok said, drawing my attention back to him.

Though his dark eyes remained stoic beneath those sharply angled eyebrows, I could feel his compassion warming up my pagh. As I watched his face, I realized that it was intentional. He was feeding me that sensation, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself in it.

Slowly, it grew stronger. I closed my eyes, allowing it to calm all of my anxieties. The teacup was lifted from my hands. If I had let myself lie down, I could have slept.

Then, there was that lullaby, strong and sweet and flawless in its meter. It was soothing in a way I couldn't begin to fathom, filling the cracks in my pagh to keep it from shattering inside me.

It was a mere taste of what he had done for me with both mind melds.

Just as slowly as Tuvok had built up the feeling, he drew it back again. When I opened my eyes, I could see the compassion lingering in his, despite his expression remaining essentially the same as it had been before. I felt like I knew him so much better.

I took a breath. "You can do more than just sense my emotions."

"Indeed. After you went into labor for the second time, you entered cardiac arrest. Mister Paris did all he could to address the physiological issues at hand, but it was not enough. When he later requested that I perform a second mind meld to bring you out of a catatonic state, he believed that my prior intervention was psychological. In fact, it was spiritual."

My eyes widened as the realization hit me, carried on a memory from my class in Vulcan psychology. "A katra transfer."

Tuvok nodded.

"So I did die, then."

"Quite nearly," he said. "What I did was more of a transfusion than a transfer. Even so, it created a telepathic bond between us. At any time when you feel an emotion strongly, you involuntarily project it into me, as well."

"Oh," I breathed. "Tuvok, I'm sorry. That must be exhausting."

"Indeed, it is taxing. It is not, however, your fault. I knew before I acted that I could not burden you with this knowledge until you had an opportunity to recover, psychologically and spiritually, from the ordeal, and I was fully aware of the possibility that you might never recover. Now that you have, it is important, for your sake and my own, that I teach you how to control it. Otherwise, conditions that inevitably befall me will have a strong impact on you."

I suppressed the urge to make a joke about how pon farr could be fun. He was right to be so concerned. Pon farr was no joking matter, but that was the least of my worries. As his neurological condition worsened, I would be subjected to powerful Vulcan emotions— a condition that could very well kill me.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

My mind stopped cold at the expression on his face. "Don't tell me you can sense my thoughts, too."

"No," he said. "However, I do sense the emotions that go along with your thoughts. After nine months, I have become quite familiar with the emotions you project. When combined with the behavioral observations I have made of you throughout the past several years, I can draw logical conclusions about what the emotions might mean. For example, I am well aware of the fact that you utilize both sarcasm and sexual gratification as mechanisms for coping with overwhelming negative feelings. I am also aware of your discomfort with this situation and your guilt at learning that I have been subject to your emotions, and I did sense the momentary spike of sexual arousal and amusement that followed my mention of conditions that will befall me. It is not difficult to deduce that you were considering making a sarcastic remark relating to the Vulcan condition of pon farr, however briefly."

I flinched at his mention of pon farr. Shit. The fact that he said it at all— Vulcan pride and privacy be damned— was proof that our relationship had forever changed. Averting my eyes, I picked up the teacup and took a long sip. I knew it would accomplish absolutely nothing, but eye contact had, again, become uncomfortable.

"I appreciate your outward restraint," Tuvok continued. "However, I must teach you how to use inward restraint, so that you will be capable of choosing that which you wish to communicate with me, and ignore that which I may not intend to communicate with you."

"Okay," I mumbled, still refusing to look up despite knowing that he could feel my embarrassment.

"We should begin our work. I suggest a mind meld."

I nearly choked on my tea. Finally, I met his gaze. "Tonight?"

"I do not sense emotional overwhelm within you, so I see no reason for delay. Do you have somewhere else to be?"

I couldn't let him into my mind that deeply, not yet. Not with Alixia only just beginning to show me glimpses of the destiny we were trying to change. As my mind scrambled for an excuse, I couldn't help but glance at the box containing the orb, dark and quiet on a small table in the corner of the room. Looking back at Tuvok, I finally said, "I'd like to have dinner with my husband."

Tuvok didn't hide his displeasure, pressing his lips into a thin line. He studied me for a moment, and I knew he was suspicious of my excuse.

Could he sense avoidance, too?

After a moment, he nodded. "Very well. Taking Lieutenant Kim's schedule into account, the most ideal night to meet will be four days from now. Is that agreeable to you?"

It would give me time to process everything, time for Alixia to show me what I needed to know, and perhaps time enough to make my own small attempts at learning to control this katra-connection on my own. I forced my feelings down and nodded. "Yes, that will be fine."

2404

As I slept, Alixia once again transported my consciousness to that Kardasi space station in our distant future. Harry had just departed with his ship to monitor the barrier, and I made my way from the habitat ring to Deep Space Nine's massive sickbay.

As always, the station's Chief Medical Officer was already hard at work.

Dr. Julian Bashir was the poster-boy for overachievement. Yet, he easily compensated for that flaw with unmatched charm and wit. He was the kind of person everyone wanted to hate, but couldn't help loving anyway.

He was stooped over a microviewer when I arrived, and all I could see was dark-brown hair streaked with an increasing number of greys. He stopped coloring it after getting divorced more than a year before, and I had to admit— I liked it better with the grey.

"Good morning, Julian," I greeted, snagging the chair at his station.

"You're in a cheery mood," he mumbled, a thick British accent making his irritation sound almost jaunty.

I shrugged. "You'd be, too, if you'd come out to the promenade with Harry and I sometime."

He huffed and adjusted his instrument. "When is Admiral Janeway's transport supposed to arrive?"

"Within the hour."

"So, you're just here to kill time until then."

"Not entirely," I said, dragging my finger along the tabletop in circular patterns. "I also wanted to know what you were working on."

"You'll find out soon enough."

I groaned. "I am as important to this research as you are. I'm the leading research psychologist in this field. I think I have the right to know what you know."

"You will find out soon enough, Miss Eelo," he reiterated.

"It's Doctor Eelo," I muttered, "you ungrateful little twat."

Julian couldn't help but laugh. "It still sounds odd to hear you use British profanities. I much prefer Bajoran ones. You know, you fall for it every time I call you that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

Finally, he looked up from the microviewer. A wide grin lit up his features, bringing life back to his green eyes and gathering wrinkles in his olive-toned skin. "And every time, it cheers me up. So, thank you."

I gave him a slight smile. "You're welcome."

"Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot to do before Admiral Janeway's visit."

"Maybe I have a job for you," I said.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"To entertain me."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I believe this takes priority."

"Overachiever."

"You'd better believe it."

Just then, a two-toned notification sounded, alerting us to an incoming com. "Ops to Commander Eelo," came the voice of fleet-Admiral Kira Nerys.

"Speaking of Bajorans with foul mouths," Julian muttered, returning his eyes to the microviewer.

I huffed a laugh and tapped my combadge. "Eelo here, Admiral."

"Admiral Janeway's transport has just arrived. Please meet her at landing pad E."

"On my way."

I gave Julian's shoulder a firm squeeze before leaving him to his work.