Prompt 10: "I'm sorry for your loss." (C&7)

Episode: "Drone"

/

When Chakotay went down to Cargo Bay Two to pick up a bottle of cider for dinner with the Captain, he was expecting Seven to already be regenerating in her alcove. Instead he found her standing in front of it, staring at the flickering green lights, not even turning around as his boots echoed against the floor. She had her hands locked behind her back, as always, and not a hair was out of place; anyone who didn't know her would think that she was absolutely fine … except that she wasn't moving.

And it wasn't her alcove she was staring at, but One's.

Chakotay was no stranger to death, of course, even a death as sudden and violent as this one, but always in a human context, surrounded by human rituals to ease the pain. When he lost someone, he sat down with his medicine bundle and prayed for them; he made love to a woman or hugged a friend; he fought virtual battles on the holodeck; he even got drunk sometimes, although he wouldn't recommend that method. None of these things would mean anything to Seven. She'd consider them irrelevant.

One had been there yesterday, and now he wasn't. Here was grief stripped bare, plain and stark as the cargo bay itself.

Chakotay found the sight both heartbreaking and eerie, and he had absolutely no idea of what to say, so he settled for the convention.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Seven."

She jumped and spun around as if he'd pulled a phaser instead of speaking. Was it the green Borg lighting, or was she paler than she ought to be?

"I will dismantle the modifications to the alcove momentarily," she said in her most inhuman monotone, moving stiffly forward to access the interface panel. That must have been what she had planned to do before getting lost inside her head.

"You don't have to … if it will make you feel better, you can leave them on for a while."

"Irrelevant. They pose a security risk."

She was right, and he should have thought of that. It was while regenerating in this alcove that One had unconsciously reached out to the Collective. If the Borg had any way of tracing that alcove, they could trace Voyager through it too, and if they caught up with the ship and got their hands on One's 29th-century components, well … Chakotay didn't like to think of what would happen.

Truth be told, he'd found it most unnerving to watch that innocent, deadly young man sink his tubules into Voyager's bridge console. That didn't mean he'd wanted One to die.

"Need a hand?"

"No, Commander … Thank you."

She pried the panel open and began unplugging cables, working with short, sharp movements as if every step of the process hurt her. She didn't so much as look at him.

Go away, you idiot, he told himself. Give her some space. She doesn't need you here. But it was plain as the green light against her face that she needed something.

"We are all related." The phrase came into his mind on impulse; it was what his father or his grandfather would have said at a time like this. "That's what my people believe. All life is interconnected across time and space. He'll always be with you, even if he's gone."

She paused in her work and looked over at him. "That sounds similar to the Collective."

Absolutely not. In his eyes, the Borg were a perversion of what he held sacred, which was what he feared about them most. But let her see it that way if it brought her comfort. The last thing he wanted to do was scorn her beliefs.

"He was in contact with the hive mind when he died," Seven murmured. "They recorded his data."

"That's right," Chakotay said gently. "They sensed his strength of mind, and they witnessed his sacrifice. Thanks to him, the entire Collective will know by now that resistance isn't futile after all."

"A sacrifice he should never have had to make. He was my responsibility, and I failed him. What use was I as a guardian if I could not even keep him alive?"

There would be no point, he knew, in telling her that she was wrong. Kathryn felt the same way every time she lost a crewmember. All logic to the contrary, so did Chakotay himself … although not with the same depth of feeling he saw in Seven's haunted eyes. Spirits help her, she was still so new to everything.

If proverbs wouldn't work, he decided to apply cold logic: "Would you prefer it if he'd never existed?"

"No."

"There you have it. When you care about someone, you wouldn't give up the memories for anything, even if they hurt you. It becomes its own reward."

Seven's eyes flickered when Chakotay used the word hurt, as if it struck some particular memory. She reached out with her Borg-enhanced left hand to touch him, then drew it back, covering it with her human one. Between her fingers, he could see her assimilation tubules emerge and then retract.

It took real effort not to recoil with fear, even though he knew perfectly well she wouldn't assimilate him. She and One could have taken over Voyager in seconds if they'd wanted. Chakotay had seen with his own eyes how hard they'd both fought to resist the voices. This was just the only form of physical connection she understood, and as such, it was both the most alarming and the saddest thing he had seen all day.

He steeled himself and took both her hands in his. Even her human skin was cold.

"Commander?"

"You take care of yourself, all right?" He squeezed and let go. "Talk to me if you need anything. Now, ah … if you'll excuse me, I should be going."

"I must complete my work."

This time, the stiffness of her tone had something almost shy about it. She watched him from the corners of her eyes all the way around the room while he fetched the cider bottle out of its crate.

Kathryn would be proud of him for this talk with her protégée, he supposed, but that wasn't why he'd done it. For his own sake and for Seven's, he decided to keep this conversation to himself.