"You should all feel free to question my medical expertise!"
The senior staff have all gathered in sickbay for their debriefing. Kathryn remains unconscious, her higher brain functions dormant and refusing to respond to medical treatments. 36 hours have passed since Chakotay brought her to sickbay, and the Doctor has finally found a clue as to what's caused her condition. His flare for dramatics does not belie his genuine anguish over his inadvertent oversight.
"Stop blaming yourself, Doc," Tom says, putting a comforting hand on the EMH's shoulder.
"If not myself, then whom?"
"I fail to see how assigning blame will change the outcome of the captain's condition," Seven offers. "Perhaps you should put your feelings aside for now and revisit them at a more convenient time?"
"What Seven, in her own compassionate way, is trying to say," Neelix begins, a sideways glance directed at the blonde, "is give yourself a break." He turns his full attention back to the Doctor. "You made the connection eventually."
The Doctor sends the Talaxian a look that isn't entirely grateful.
"Neelix is right," Chakotay cuts in, claiming everyone's attention. "Just tell us what you've found, Doc."
The Doctor rallies. "It's a virus," he explains, then haltingly adds, "More to the fact, it's my virus."
"I beg your pardon?" B'Elanna's tone has a distinct edge to it.
The Doctor looks mortified as he continues. "The virus the away team released into the central plexus was, as expected, downloaded immediately. Unfortunately for the Queen, the Borg couldn't adapt to its effects quick enough to stop the drones of Unimatrix Zero from regaining their individuality. They did, however, manage to modify it."
"Modify it how?" Harry asks.
"Never mind that," Tom interrupts, "How did the captain get it? And what about B'Elanna and Tuvok?" The pilot eyes the half-Klingon with concern.
"Neither Lieutenant Torres nor Commander Tuvok appears to be infected."
"Lucky us," quips B'Elanna. "But what about the captain?"
The Doctor shrugs. "I have no explanation as to why she's been infected and you haven't."
"It must have happened when Tu..." B'Elanna pauses, looking apologetically at Tuvok.
Apart from the exhaustion that still lingers on the Vulcan's face, he's stoically nonplussed as always. "What Lieutenant Torres is trying to say," he clarifies, "is that the captain must have been infected when I apprehended her and brought her to the Queen."
"But she never saw the Queen," Harry protests. "The captain only appeared before her as a holographic projection."
A thought dawns on Seven. "She was connected to an interlink hub. The Queen could have administered the virus then."
"A logical assumption," Tuvok concurs.
"Which brings us back to my questionable expertise, and Mr Kim's original question," the Doctor says, begrudgingly. "The virus is showing adaptive qualities far beyond its biological nature. It modifies and mimics components and cells that aid its need for survival; in this instance, the anti-assimilation inoculations I've been administering to the captain. This has not only enabled the virus to hide, but also allowed it to replicate and infect the captain's primary systems, all the while avoiding my detection, since it looked exactly like the compounds which made up the inoculations to begin with."
"A Trojan horse," Chakotay sighs, tiredly.
"Exactly." The Doctor looks at the commander. "Nothing I've come up with so far has made a dent in its armour, and as much as I loathe to say it, I'm not sure what I can do to help her."
24 hours later
Chakotay leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he sits by Kathryn's side. He purses his lips, expelling an exhausted breath through clenched teeth. He can't remember the last time he slept or ate, not that it matters. He's not hungry, and he doubts he could sleep. The senior staff have all returned to their designated departments, the clock ticking as they work to repair the ship while researching ways to help their captain.
Kathryn's had another seizure, violent and long-lived. He wonders if it'll all be for nothing.
Apart from her laboured breathing, sickbay is quiet. They're approaching midnight, and her condition is deteriorating.
During the episode, her arms and legs were put in restraints, an unfortunate necessity to keep her thrashing body from injuring itself. She fought the restraints, even in her comatose state. Her back arched like a spent bow, fists clenched and feet pointed.
She's calm now, but the restraints remain. Just in case. Rasping puffs of air expel from her as she breathes. Her chest rises and falls in an uneven rhythm. There's a blue shade to her split lip and cold fingertips.
Subtle signs of a circulatory system that's failing.
The virus is feasting on her. All major body systems are infected, and the Doctor is still struggling to help her. She should be dead, the Doctor has said. Would have been, if not for the way the virus ebbs and flows. Just as it sends her into a tailspin, it pulls back, allowing her body to create new cells.
Just enough to keep her alive.
A controlled mitosis that keeps her circling the proverbial drain.
Keeps her hostage.
A curse and a blessing in equal measures.
He feels helpless.
Hopeless.
'She's dying,' Chakotay thinks, and by association, so is he. He leans closer to the bed, and brushes damp strands of lacklustre hair away from her face. It's probably his imagination, but he likes to think her breath evens out at his touch, if only a little. That she can sense his presence, accepting his silent plea for forgiveness. Forgiveness for not sitting with her from the moment the away team returned. For being angry with her. For arguing with her. For making up with her.
For not being able to have a relationship with her that is easy, carefree and uncomplicated.
He leans forward. Kisses the scar over her eye. Her cheek. Her mouth.
Her lips taste of salt.
Small droplets of moisture that he kisses away, only to find them replaced just as quickly.
An unforgiving onslaught of tears that he struggles to stem.
He looks at Kathryn's comatose form and feels nothing but a determination that almost frightens him. He knows whatever happens next, he will cross lines he shouldn't. He will break vows and trample on regulations, and it will all be for one reason only.
To get her back.
TBC