Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine. Wait, Benzas is mine. The Oncaveat and the Jehnz-yi are mine…but the really good ones still belong to Paramount. Damn.

Chapter Rating: T plus, maybe. Violence, violence, a little language.

Notes: Borrowed some things from Jeri Taylor's Mosaic, but no infringement is intended.

Chapter Ten

Part I

On a shuttlecraft, even one as large as the Delta Flyer, avoiding the other passengers was a feat Harry Kim had thought patently impossible before today. Somehow, though, the rest of the away team managed to find a way to avoid Voyager's first officer almost entirely. In the tense hours aboard the small spacecraft, they found their company in one of two places: with one another or with Benzas, the last minute addition to their rescue mission. They systematically tried to stay out of Chakotay's way.

None of the other three passengers so much as came near him except for strategy meetings, which consisted of Chakotay laying down the plans and everyone else either nodding or grunting in agreement. Only the doctor had dared to make a suggestion and he only once; the resulting look which the commander froze him with, in mid-sentence, was borderline surpassing the glare they'd all come to fear from Janeway herself.

Neither of his fellow crewmen recognized him. He'd shed more than just his Starfleet uniform upon boarding the newly repaired Delta Flyer. He'd shed something else, something more…indefinable, yet no less real for that obscurity. He wasn't the man they'd known on Voyager. He was little more than instinct: primal, raw.

And angry. Oh, how the rage radiated from his powerful form in hot, radiation-level intensity waves! To share breathing room with this man, this new man emerging wearing the affable commander's familiar, ethnic features like a thin mask, was to be touched by that rage and to experience a small taste of what lay in store for the true targets of that rage: the Jehnz-yi. Even the doctor felt it and remarked upon the eerie sensation to the miserable Harry Kim while stubbornly using the Flyer's replicator to prepare a well-balanced lunch that none of his three organic, fellow passengers were going to touch anyway.

Chakotay, for the most part, piloted the shuttle. He'd long ago overcome the urge to be sick – violently sick – all over the floor of the immaculate shuttle. There was only darkness now, only a calm, almost serene determination borne of his unparalled rage. Once satisfied with the basic outline for the recue plan, he'd begun directing Harry in curt, stony language to prepare the necessary equipment. As the doctor had cautioned, they'd need to take quite a few medical supplies along in order to address some of the captain's critical injuries before moving her.

Chakotay had listened to the doctor's instructions for temporarily staunching heavy blood flow and noted the compound which would slow her heart rate in order to minimize stress to her impaired internal organs. He'd absorbed everything with an impassive face, his eyes glittering all the while with that alien expression of…well, the doctor had been unable to find a suitable term for that look besides malice. He'd shivered, and once again reiterated that the rescue mission should proceed as quickly as possible. Not only would they likely need to get the captain to Sickbay immediately, but there was still extensive reconstruction surgery to be performed on the stabilized, sedated Neelix back aboard Voyager. He wasn't happy to have been forced to leave a patient in critical condition, but he obviously understood the need for triage in this situation. The captain's injuries were now his top priority.

As soon as the doctor was able to hastily dismiss himself from the flight deck, Chakotay grudgingly summoned Benzas for one last run through of the plan. Though Benzas was the last man in the galaxy he wanted by his side for this mission, he'd been forced to admit, as he had before embarking upon the rescue mission, that Benzas's ability to connect with the captain would be invaluable in locating her should technology fail to do so. Taking the doctor as his companion, though ideal, wasn't feasible. The EMH's programming would not allow him to take a life, much less to do so repeatedly and in cold blood. And Harry, who'd provided as detailed an outline of the prison's holding cells as he could, would be needed here to man the transporter, communications with the away team, and weapons, should they be necessary.

Once more, he discussed the usage of phasers, scanning equipment, and transport enhancers with the Oncaveat senator. They would enter the fortress the same way Kathryn had…the first time…through the underground caverns leading to the individual prison cells. The restraining field was weakest there, and their scans would most accurately enable them to avoid high concentrations of Jehnz-yin soldiers. They would neutralize any enemy they come into contact with and their phasers would not be set to stun. On the off chance that the Jehnz-yi had managed to compensate for the Starfleet weapons' fire with an adjustment to the dampening field, Harry, who would remain behind on the Delta Flyer, was to beam them up the moment they were able to clear that field (should the transport enhancers prove faulty or impossible to get to her).

He would also keep a targeted lock on the military base at all times. If nothing else, Kathryn Janeway would not be permitted to suffer one moment more than necessary…even if, in the end, they had to kill her to end that suffering.

Chakotay needed no time to mull this last decision over…none whatsoever. He knew, thanks to his experience in the Maquis, that there were times when that final, most horrible of decisions had to be made: prolong life until the very last second, no matter the quality of that life, or accept the inevitable and spare further suffering by allowing a quick end to the pain? Adhere to the principles of civilized society, or set aside his natural, human abhorrence for the notion of deliberately causing of the death of someone he cared for?

When he was younger – before the Cardassians had shown him the true nature of evil – he'd innocently believed that he could never take another life. He'd been sure that he certainly would never contemplate ending the existence of someone he cared for… Oh, but that was well before he'd learned about the true depravity that existed in the universe…well before he'd seen with his own eyes the abject cruelty that sentient beings were capable of inflicting on other living souls.

He was no longer so naïve.

With any living being, it was difficult enough…the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, in fact. But as he'd learned courtesy of Cardassian soldiers, with someone you cared for it was always hardest…to commit the ultimate sacrifice in the name of unconditional love.

He hadn't thought that he could do that with her. He hadn't thought himself strong enough to make that call, or to even consider setting out parameters, in advance, under which he'd be forced to make the decision…not with her.

But then he'd turned to the screen and watched, completely powerless, helpless while Garan Xi lashed open, with an object most resembling a metal-enforced whip, skin that was never meant to be abused in such a hideous fashion. Skin that should never have met with mocking scrutiny the likes of which it was facing at the hands of the Jehnz-yi. Skin that should have remained soft, hidden, cherished and cared for…lovingly, and with deep reverence. Skin that hadn't been marked before the Jehnz-yin general had dug in his fierce hateful claws and had mauled, touched in anger and in foul possession…in blatant desecration.

He didn't have to hear the words coming from the foul creature's mouth to know the nature of the threats implied. He didn't have to use his imagination to read the flickering fear, the misplaced and admirable, prideful resolve on her face as Xi hissed dreadful promises into that face: a face that wasn't meant to make expressions of such tortured anguish. A face that should have smiled, unmarred with her radiant warmth, with her trademark authority. A face that should have remained beautiful, healthy, alive…a face that was never intended to reflect such desperate despair or such unbearable suffering. A face that should not have had to grimace in inhuman amounts of pain…a face that should never, in a universe of righteousness, have reflected that it saw through the barriers of the living and now preferred death to what life had to offer.

And he'd given the order with no hesitation whatsoever. He'd looked Harry Kim full in the face, directly in the eyes, and demanded that he lock the full complement of the Delta Flyers few torpedoes, as well as the impressive array of the shuttle's phaser banks, on the compound that housed the captain of Voyager. Because if they could not get her out of that hell, there was no way they could leave her to suffer in it. There was no way he could. Not like that. Even if it meant killing her – and himself – in the process.

Chakotay would give the order to have them all killed, and he would let the terrible burden of having fired the fatal blow rest on young Harry Kim's shoulders before he would ever permit her to suffer such a horrible fate for one microsecond longer than necessary.

And when Harry hadn't argued, had simply swallowed hard and darted a suddenly mature, wizened look toward the viewscreen Chakotay always switched off the instant he heard the movement of someone entering the flight deck… The first officer of Voyager realized then that Harry, too, had learned that horrible lesson – the lesson that sometimes the kindest decision was to end inhuman suffering, rather than cling to the notion that to end that life was the worst choice a human being could make. Harry had gotten his own bitter lesson, thanks to the Jehnz-yi.

It shouldn't have been that way. There should never have been creatures spawned which could force a choice so hideous on any living soul, but Chakotay had long ago ceased to rail against reality. It shouldn't have been, but it was. He accepted it.

Garan Xi was a dead man. He had been dead the moment he had first pressed that acid-tinged knife to Kathryn Janeway's stomach, the second he sliced into her skin…the instant he made her utter that agonized, pain-filled scream that Chakotay knew he would hear to his dying day… The general had already signed his death warrant. With every single hideous violation he inflicted in the hours afterward, all he managed to do was to determine just how horrible and prolonged his death was going to be...

Xi had merely succeeded in determining just how much satisfaction Chakotay would take from ending his miserable life.

And as Chakotay watched the torture proceeding, having finalized the plans to infiltrate the enemy fortress and liberate Voyager's captain, his hand invariably slid down to the steel of the old-fashioned hunting knife he'd pulled from the storage bins upon deciding to head this mission. It now nestled in its old place, in the holster secured under the black special operations uniform he'd pulled from the ship's databanks before departing. Its old place at his side, concealed and easily accessible to him at all times…the weight of it, strange at first, soon became a familiar, comforting presence once again. It reminded him with each horrible heart-pounding breath during which her life hung in the balance that her pain and suffering would not go unavenged…no matter the final outcome of the rescue attempt.

He waited. They were almost there. He didn't have long now…

Soon, he would again be by her side…where he belonged. And he'd be damned if he ever let her out of his sight again. He'd be doubly damned if he let Garan Xi take anything more than he'd taken from her already. She would get through this, he vowed silently to himself. He would bring her through this, and her soul would be untouched by all the horror it was enduring now. That or it would be at rest, where the Jehnz-yi couldn't reach her to inflict any more suffering than they already had.

But if that happened, he would be condemned to the darkness for eternity. If he let her die there…had to let her end her days with the Jehnz-yi as her last memory and if he couldn't follow her into death's blessed release…

His hand reached beneath his tunic to trace along the handle of the knife. He was only reassured by the rightness of its presence there.

Part II

Her very last contact with Benzas marked not only the complete sapping of her bond mate's strength but nearly the end of Kathryn Janeway's, as well.

One hour. He said I have one hour. She had no idea how she was going to make it that long.

At least she now knew, thanks to Xi's smug outburst, the reason for her seeming super-human ability to retain consciousness even through unfathomable levels of pain: they'd administered a powerful stimulant while she lay passed out on the filthy stone floor.

It was more than the physical pain…and they'd yet to remove any limbs or digits as they had with poor Neelix, but hardly an hour passed without the general threatening to do just that…and more. Still, that wasn't her primary concern. What the Starfleet captain feared most was the increasing affinity the Jehnz-yi appeared to be gaining for the idea of "cutting her down".

It would be the very last straw, the final humiliation…potentially the point at which Janeway felt she might just break after all.

It had become apparent that, due to height restrictions, there were certain things they couldn't do as long as she remained tethered in her current position. Granted at this point she wasn't entirely sure she'd categorize those other things – which would undoubtedly follow being dropped to the ground and freed of the restraints now positioning her – as worse…

She'd certainly never been forced to endure those "other things" before… nor had she been made to experience extensive physical torture prior to coming into contact with the Jehnz-yi. Now that she'd undergone the latter, Kathryn found herself wondering whether her instinctual fear of the former could really be justified at all: perhaps it would be preferable to the relentless, wanton destruction of her body and its most vital systems, after all.

Surely an hour had to have passed by now? Surely the searing of her flesh, muscle and bone must have become her whole reality for more than just a few insignificant moments?

She'd barely any recollection of the notion that once, barely a day ago, she'd been the strong, confident leader strolling through the various decks of her ship and galvanizing her crew into continued action. It was difficult to believe that she'd been addressed with nothing but the utmost respect from everyone around her. She found it impossible to conjure the sensation of being warm and having a throat that wasn't parched from thirst…couldn't imagine that she'd had hands whose fingers she could feel and use to manipulate objects to do her bidding…or a body that didn't scream in protest with each shuddered inhalation of breath. To Kathryn, it now seemed that pain had been her world for as long as she could remember – pain, and the forced, constant interaction with Garan Xi.

At first, they had fallen into a routine. It was a game, the dance between them. He'd ask a question, and she'd merely glare at him with a look meant to convey her absolute contempt for both the man and his questions alike. She used her love of her crew to justify, to make bearable, the sharp sting of every damaging blow. The slash of a blade, liberally coated with acidic residue seared into her thigh. That one was for Paris, she thought, and managed to clamp down on the automatic scream of pain only with the thought of his insolent grin flashing at her from the helm. The bite of a whip ate through the thin flesh of her inner arm. That's one blow Nicoletti won't have to take. The whimper wasn't anywhere near what it might have been, had the young woman's warm and slightly mischievous eyes not danced merrily at the edges of her vision. The claws or fangs of Xi's men ripped and tore into her flesh. But Gerron's skin is still intact. The Bajoran's soft voice, shyly greeting her for the first time, was her favorite memory of the young man...

Kathryn knew the dangers of giving her interrogators any additional pieces of information to be used against her, no matter how small. But after a while, the general's brutal manipulations of her exposed and increasingly mutilated flesh finally drove her to parry his questions with pithy, defiantly sarcastic retorts in which she demonstrated for her tormentor the difference in not only their raw intelligence but also in their wit. It had afforded her a great deal of satisfaction to note Xi's increasing frustration over his repeatedly proven inability to match her for sheer cleverness…

The satisfaction hadn't lasted for long; indeed, how could it possibly sustain her through such devastating physical abuse?

The questions were always the same. She heard them – sometimes alarmingly near her ear, and sometimes seemingly from a distance as though filtered through a particularly poor sieve – but often, the inquiries were unable to be distinguished from the ceaseless background of base insults and snarled threats hissed at her from his equally foul subordinates.

Where were the coordinates? They had to be close, didn't they? Surely they were, with the next window nearly upon them and the captain's ship so close by? Did she know how very fortunate she was that they were using her for bait, and thereby wanted her at least somewhat intact for now?

At that, she'd laughed, unable to stop herself; if this was his definition of "somewhat intact", she sure as hell couldn't imagine what she'd look like otherwise. Then again, that wasn't true…she could imagine. She'd seen the results of a band of Jehnz-yin soldiers intent upon total destruction before – she'd seen it upon boarding Benzas's ship. In many ways, it would have been better for her if she hadn't. Then, at least, the captain might have found solace in being able to reassure herself that many of the general's threats were idle at best.

Knowing that they weren't wasn't doing a great deal for her morale.

Still the questions continued, often repeating in a maddeningly rhythmic pattern which almost became like the refrain of a familiar melody. It played in her head even when she should have heard only silence.

What would it take to break her? Pain didn't seem to be working – nor did reason. Perhaps they really had exhausted that option for now…her pathetically frail form didn't appear able to handle much more, anyway. Perhaps their interaction should take a different tack?

His minions agreed with this assessment whole-heartedly.

How had she evaded detection upon landing? Wouldn't showing him how to compensate for her ship's technology be far preferable to the sting of another whip lash? He was running out of skin to mark; didn't she know how inconsiderate of her he found that to be? Really, if she weren't so puny, such a pathetically skinny creature he might have had inches and inches of pearly white flesh left to brand…did she really want him to move on to other methods?

He made it clear, with a grinning demonstration of clawed, gnarled fingers that she did not.

Where was Voyager? Did she even know, or had they abandoned her worthless body to Xi's tender mercies? Either way, he assured her, he'd have his satisfaction from her in the end. Did she know how sinfully delicious the general found the taste of her alien skin?

In the beginning, Kathryn imagined that her mind was playing tricks on her; some of the relentless questions were surely too ridiculous for her to have heard correctly! Yet at the growing sense of desperation crowding in about her, she found that it mattered less and less. Excruciating agony and concussion-induced fatigue were taking their toll; she no longer heard the general's questions, no longer felt the raw, mind-boggling torture of steel-ravaged flesh and acid-singed muscles.

She began to recall the faces of her crew again, one by one, pulling them from sluggish, uncooperative memory into the forefront of her mind. She wanted their smiling faces to be the last thing she saw in life before her death hopefully delivered them from mortal danger one final time…

And Garan Xi, for the life of him, couldn't fathom what enabled his victim to produce that soft, triumphant smile as he flicked the whip forward once more to lash against the already weeping flesh of her ribcage.

Part III

When Chakotay wasn't meeting with him, Benzas remained in his cabin, which he shared with Harry Kim.

The Oncaveat made his own plans in the short time that he had left. He was aware of the commander's pain; Benzas had felt the same soul-wrenching fear with each contact he'd initiated with Kathryn. But he could not allow the fact that he, too, had developed strong feelings for Kathryn Janeway to stop him from the decision he ultimately made. The plan must be carried out, he reminded himself. If it isn't then her suffering has truly been in vain. It had to proceed or the remaining Oncaveat, the hundreds still left in this part of space, would be sacrificed as a result. The Jehnz-yin military had to be stopped once and for all. And at this unprecedented time, the opportunity looming before them now (thanks to Janeway's self-sacrifice) could not be missed. It couldn't. Too many lives were still at stake…

Two rifts simultaneously opened. It only occurred once a century. The opportunity could not be missed.

He hoped that Kathryn would forgive him for the choice he made...he knew she would, that she already had forgiven him. She felt there was nothing to forgive in the first place. She'd volunteered for this mission, after all. And Hedri had been more than honest that Kathryn's rift would be a one-way ticket for the facilitator. With the absolute confirmation of the spy's existence...it had to be her. He'd deliberately not asked her until the very last contact what the true coordinates were...

And now he knew. It was final. There was no more time. The hand had been dealt, it would have to be played out now. It was even more important than ever that this rift be opened. There was no choice; the circumstances could not have aligned more advantageously for the Oncaveat.

Still he'd hoped that perhaps...maybe...

She cared deeply for him, too. The bond told him that, even if she herself could not. The initial bonding (before she'd received her specific instructions), allowed them to share everything…everything. The parallels between their life experiences meant that he and Kathryn shared certain ideals and goals. It meant they intrinsically understood deep, hidden truths about the other that they both generally tried to hide from their subordinates. Ruefully, he thought back to the moment of initial bonding at the summit...

He felt the pull, the delicious sensation of fullness, as he had three times before in his lifetime. The beautiful energy, the consciousness of his familiar contact, Hedri, flowed through him. He could see the glow surrounding his blue flesh as Hedri very gently and very lovingly occupied his physical being. She felt heavenly, a manifestation of true love…

His peoples' guardian. Their protector, their strength, and their deliverance. He ignored the tingling as she carefully used her great awareness (of things he'd never have much comprehension of) to make the alterations necessary for him to become, once more, a conduit of her magnificent aura. And then, as always, he experienced the amazing surge of the others' conscious energy; the other Unani, who mapped his body with their strange, methodical, and exploratory curiosity.

"Welcome, Benzas Cori. We meet again."

"Yes," he agreed, delighted at the gift of communion with such powerful creatures. "And it is good to know you once more."

A shiver, a whispering breeze that was the manifestation of their laughter, rippled through him. The delight, the pleasure of that sensation, prompted him to laugh aloud also, startling the woman who sat before him by the fire. She was clearly entranced by what she was witnessing. The glow of the firelight and the radiant, shining blue aura now emanating from his large frame reflected off of her pale alien skin, making her appear even more other-worldly and even more regal than he'd thought her before.

He thought her breathtaking like this, pure inquisitive wonder shining in her blue eyes. He smiled at her, aware of the thoughts tickling in his mind…

"So, Benzas, you find a soul mate at last?" Hedri teased, seeing what he saw through his own eyes. "Who is this strange creature you have brought before us? Kathryn? A leader, like you?"

He grinned broadly, though at the human woman or at Hedri's teasing he couldn't have said…didn't care to waste precious time wondering. "Yes, Hedri. This is Captain Janeway, my fellow leader. She has offered to become our facilitator." Reaching out, he offered his first hands to her, palms up, and waited for her to take them of her own accord. He addressed her aloud. "If you feel you are ready, Kathryn, take my hands. You will meet Hedri, and she will tell us if you are capable of being a conduit."

She hesitated only briefly, and he understood the moment she touched both small hands in his the reason for the hesitation. Her memories, her essence, whirled through him as Hedri sought to know the deepest secrets of Kathryn's heart, of her formidable mind and soul…

He saw a little girl weeping at a small table, and a moderately sized furry creature with his head buried in her lap. He looked through the girl's eyes, seeing the deep brown orbs of unconditional love reflected back at her. Defeat. Wounded pride. Longing for approval from her idol, her…father, yes.

He saw the girl much older, apparently in a box or tiny coffin. Wounded, in physical pain, her cold hands clamped over her ears to drown out the sound of something unbelievably horrifying…screams. The screams of someone for whom she cared very deeply. Hopelessness. Terror. Despair.

He touched her with his mind, a gentle caress, remembered his experience with forced witness. He shared this openly with her: only her. Once more, he was watching his bondmate brutally tortured at the hands of the Jehnz-yi. He was hearing the cries of his young son as he was ripped from Benzas's weakened embrace and carried away down a long hall. The last time he'd ever seen the young boy's face in life, it had been terrified, calling out to his father, Benzas, to save him. He had been unable to and the grief, the overwhelming sorrow that image, that tortured memory recalled… He'd broken free but not until the last moment, and the next time he held his son, it was a broken and lifeless body Benzas cradled and not the loving, tenderly joyful creature that little Anhar had been before the Jehnz-yi mercilessly slaughtered him.

He felt her warmth drawing him out of the misery of the memory, heard her unspoken words. "I'm so sorry for your loss…"

And he felt her sorrow at his ordeal wash over him, too. What a loving creature she was! He felt rather than saw her blush at the open compliment.

Then it came much more quickly, blending together as the bond deepened and became real. A small shuttlecraft encased in ice. Helplessness, anguish unbelievable, too much for the soul to bear. A small gathering of Senators around a bonfire, meeting to plan another crossover. A large station of some kind exploding in a blaze of weapons fire.

Longing. Missing the loved ones separated by cruelly vast amounts of time and space. A tearstained pillow beneath a starry, lonely viewport. Another tearstained pillow, a lonely cell of necessary isolation, a straw pallet beneath an open window. Separated from loved ones by death, and by personal failure. The lingering scent of his bondmate, Aniky…her warmth and her loving smile. The lingering rememberance of warmth and loving male hands soothing away the day's worries... another large, furry creature, snuggling at their feet.

"I'm sorry," they both thought at once. Then: "I understand."

A beautiful alien face regarding him from across the bonfire. Red hair and a dazzling, yet so very sad smile.

Longing. A question, more like an offer. Silent, yet no less real for the lack of posing…

More sadness. Regret. A strong, tanned face with fiercely dark eyes, smiling in open support. A tribal marking, a symbol of his deep spirituality. Unspoken love. Arguments, vehement and heated. Disagreement. Always love. A figure in uniform, always by her side, even when she pushed him away with both hands. A promise, unspoken, yet no less binding for that lack of avowal. Waiting for home. Always waiting.

"I'm sorry," she offered silently, the solitary tear slipping from one of her brilliant eyes to escape its stubborn confinement. "It isn't…we've never…I don't even know if he still…but I…"

"But you can't. You couldn't, with another, until you are sure. And you don't feel you can ask him until you are home."

Grateful, she nodded and turned away to regain her composure as the link was disbanded.

He missed it instantly. It had been half a century since he'd felt that kind of completion. That sort of compatibility with another soul…it had been since Aniky was taken from him. Kathryn couldn't form the words, the thoughts, but he'd understood. He understood all about her now. She'd been especially reluctant to take the final leap into bonding, and he saw the reason for it; Kathryn by necessity closed herself off from those around her, even him – the reason for her demurral. It was the only way she knew to stay whole, to stay strong and to keep pushing forward. To stay in control. To lead those 150 souls who had entrusted their lives into her care...

"You should learn another way, Little One," he informed her boldly, still telepathically, laughing at the stark glare of challenge issuing from her stormy eyes. He sent her a teasing, "You're half my size, half my age. I'll call you what I like."

When she stared at him, mouth agape for long seconds, he laughed gleefully until she was forced to smile back at him. He knew the instant she realized what he was doing and felt her gratitude wash over him.

"Just not in front my crew, will you?" she allowed archly."Tom Paris would never let me live it down."

Benzas chuckled, nodding in acquiescence. "Not in front of anyone, Little One. Just between us." She raised an eyebrow but smiled good-naturedly through the overwhelming tide of emotions still coursing through her.

There was a stirring beside him.

He turned to Tuvok, who was disbanding his link also, though the Vulcan hadn't required Oncaveat aid to form the link with the Unani. The psychic properties of the bonfire, and of the gathering of the strongest telepaths among the Oncaveat senators, were sufficient to boost the strangely stoic man's intrinsic abilities to the necessary level alone.

Kathryn took several moments to steady herself, at odds with heart-stirring memories and horrors from the past and unrequited longings of the present. When she at last settled, she turned to her crewman first. "All right, Tuvok?" she asked evenly of the Vulcan.

"I am well." Benzas noted the concern in those dark eyes and smiled to himself. Clearly, Kathryn wasn't the only one struggling with the deep emotional resonance of the bond; the security officer's control was not yet back in place. "And you, Captain?"

He watched the quirk of her lips, fascinated, as her eyes shone again with unshed tears. He felt her realization of her friend's unguarded emotions and also her joy at having been granted this rare gift and insight into her trusted companion's soul. Joy – hers. And, surprisingly, amidst strong levels of disapproval and discomfort, the Vulcan's.

"I'm well, also, my friend," she whispered.

Benzas sighed, pulling himself out of his reverie.

He loved her. He had from the moment of contact, upon feeling her essence for the first time. He loved her perhaps more completely than the first officer ever would, he thought bitterly, shaking off the memories of completion and bonding and the sensation of longing that each severance invoked. He loved her and he had seen into the deepest, darkest parts of her…the parts the first officer, Chakotay, denied. But Benzas knew her darkness, intimately, and he loved it as much as her light. Her goodness outweighed her natural mortal failings: her pride, her stubbornness, her absoluteness. He loved them all. He accepted all.

He didn't see some idealized version of Kathryn when he looked at her. And he didn't feel the need to shelter her or to censor her, either in thought or in deed. He respected her too much for that. He respected her too much to restrict her choices...or her autonomy. He could not say the same of the man she'd chosen. He didn't think the first officer deserved her, in truth.

But he trusted her enough to make the choice for herself and she had, and Benzas had lost to the other man. He could accept that, for her, if it made her happy. It didn't. Both humans were either too stubborn or too frightened to take that final step…the step which would join not only the soul but also the physical.

He understood her reluctance, but he found it ridiculous. The most intimate parts of the two humans were already joined. The damage, from what he could see, was already done. Physical expression of that which existed would not have been their undoing…if anything it was the denial of that bond which was causing them harm.

But the plan had to be carried out. She had allowed Benzas's people to come this far towards permanently safeguarding them from Jehnz-yin persecution…and now it was up to him to see that the plan she had set in motion was realized, in spite of Voyager's recue attempt. He made no more connections through the link. It was no longer safe and Kathryn hadn't, as they'd hoped, been able to wrestle the name of the Oncaveat traitor from the general.

In the last few minutes of time before he was forced to take action for the peace of his too long tormented soul, he rested, secure in his final decision.

He would need his strength to ensure that the outcome of the Voyagers' rescue attempt was in his people's best interests…and not in the interests of one.