"You can go first." (Janeway, Torres, Seven)

Author's Note: This story takes place after "Extreme Risk".

Content warning: depression, self-harm, suicidal thoughts.

/

"Seven?"

"Lieutenant Torres."

"What are you doing here?"

"The Captain summoned me. You as well?"

"Uh-huh."

"Do you know the purpose of this exercise?"

"Nope."

B'Elanna and Seven fell into a tense, unfriendly silence as they waited in the corridor outside Holodeck Two. While B'Elanna leaned against the wall and folded her arms, trying not to show how tired she was after one too many sleepless nights, the Borg woman stood with annoyingly perfect posture as always. No doubt her spine was made out of some indestructible alloy. B'Elanna wished that, whatever the Captain had planned for the three of them, it would be over soon.

They didn't have to wait for long, at least. Captain Kathryn Janeway came around the corner with a holodeck chip in one hand and a warm smile on her face. She looked so genuinely pleased to see both women that B'Elanna would have felt envious if she had the energy. She couldn't remember the last time she herself had been able to smile like that.

"There you are, ladies. Ready?"

"What program is this, Captain?" Seven asked flatly.

"You'll see," Janeway said, glancing over her shoulder as she inserted the chip into the holodeck control panel.

The doors slid open to reveal the interior of a Starfleet shuttlecraft, which B'Elanna recognized at once as the Delta Flyer. Maybe this was another test run, then, although that didn't explain why there was no pilot on the team. They all knew the basics of flying, but Tom would want to be here. The Flyer was his baby. Their baby, once, although her enthusiasm for the project was hard to come by these days.

Poor Tom, she thought distantly. He'd stuck by her a lot longer than she'd expected, and she had no idea why.

When she saw the three orbital skydiving suits standing ready, however, she was jolted into an undeniable emotion.

Dread.

"Seven, what did you tell her?" asked B'Elanna.

The ex-drone had seen her coming back from skydiving once, wearing a suit like this, and made a dry remark about peculiar forms of recreation. Had she told the Captain? Was everyone on this ship talking about B'Elanna's issues behind her back? She ought to be warming up with anger by now, but she was simply sick and tired. She wrapped her arms around herself and backed up into a corner.

"Nothing," said Seven.

"Your holodeck history is on the record," said the Captain. "I've never tried orbital skydiving myself, but I thought it sounded like a challenge. Also … before we jump, I thought the three of us might take this opportunity to talk."

"Was this the Doctor's initiative?"

It was Seven who spoke this time, and she looked no more interested in the idea than B'Elanna was. Janeway, however, looked back at them without the slightest hint of pity or judgment on her face. She walked past them, letting the holodeck doors closed, and went to stand by the view screen, leaning her hand on the leather back of the pilot's seat. She looked out at the holographic stars twinkling in the blackness, as if looking far enough might help her find a way back home.

"No," the Captain said, "It was mine. Strange places, holodecks, don't you think? Even though we're still on board, there's the illusion of being light years away, all by ourselves. I've often found that I can say things … be things … on the holodeck that I couldn't anywhere else on board."

"Constructing scenarios," Seven said, in a rather softer voice than usual.

The phrase meant nothing to B'Elanna, but Janeway nodded, and she and the Borg shared a glance of understanding. "Exactly. I can be myself here, and I'm hoping it might do the same for you both."

So she did mean did this to be some kind of group counselling session. Of all the absurdities the Delta Quadrant had thrown at them so far, B'Elanna hadn't expected this.

B'Elanna's fingers twitched. If she could get to the weapons locker in time, she could stun the others and get the hell out of here. But Seven's reflexes were Borg-enhanced, and besides, it would only disappoint the Captain even more than the micro-fracture incident the other day. Meanwhile Janeway sat down, calm and authoritative as ever, in the pilot's seat. She swivelled it to face them, crossed one leg over the other, clasped her hands in her lap, and waited.

And waited.

"You can go first." B'Elanna gestured awkwardly to Seven.

"This procedure is irrelevant, Captain. I will not comply."

"Fine." Janeway sighed. "I'll go first. But before we start, let's leave our ranks at the door, shall we? While we're in here, call me Kathryn."

She peeled off all four of her captain's pips and put them in her pocket. Her collar was oddly plain without them. She hesitated over the gestures as if, after all, she too was reluctant to confide in them.

Something about that strange hesitation in the Captain's - Kathryn's - behaviour struck a dark chord in B'Elanna's memory. She had sounded just like this while volunteering to sacrifice her life for her crew to get out of the Void. Back then, B'Elanna had been too preoccupied with her own solitude to wonder why Kathryn spent so much time alone. She could guess what the older woman would say, and when she spoke, her words proved the guess was correct.

"I'm sure you remember how I … how I planned to stay behind on the other side of the Malon tunnel," Kathryn said, her voice low and raspy, as if the Void were only yesterday and she still wasn't used to speaking. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm grateful that you all disobeyed my order that day. The truth is … the truth is, I didn't give that order for tactical reasons. I gave them because … after everyone who died because of my choices, I didn't feel I deserved to live."

It was the strangest thing. B'Elanna felt the same way sometimes, and in her head it seemed like quite a reasonable opinion. When Kathryn said it, however, it made B'Elanna want to swat her upside the head for being completely and utterly wrong. Empathy burned like a hot coal in her throat. For the first time in months, she felt like raising her voice.

Seven got there first.

"Unacceptable," the ex-Borg snapped, catching hold of the armrest on Kathryn's chair and spinning it around so she could glare at her mentor face to face. "Your guilt is misplaced. Your life is valued by everyone on board."

"She's right, Cap - Kathryn," said B'Elanna. "If it weren't for some of your choices, I'd be dead or in jail and she'd still be a drone."

"Some parts of my mind know that," said Kathryn, looking up from one fiercely compassionate face to the other, "But I'm afraid others don't. I can hold myself together well enough in a crisis, but it's the quiet times that get to me. When I start fantasizing about a Borg cube to fight, I know there's something wrong."

B'Elanna, who until recently had made a habit of letting holographic Cardassians beat her bloody just to feel something, nodded grimly. "I know how that feels."

"When One was killed, I considered returning to the Collective." Seven's voice fell harshly into the silence, like Borg hardware clattering to the floor. "Individuality seemed pointless to me if it led to pain like this."

Again, B'Elanna was humbled by the knowledge of what her shipmate had been - and was still - going through, while she'd thought herself all alone in the galaxy. Seven had never given any sign before that her Borg protegé's brief existence had left any impact on her at all. B'Elanna had even wondered, not for the first time, whether Kathryn and the Doctor were wasting their time trying to teach this machine of a woman how to feel.

Looking closely at her for possibly the first time, though, B'Elanna had no doubt that the lesson had been learned. Seven's eyes were dull and bloodshot, her face pale, her mouth a tight line of endurance. She looked as if she hadn't regenerated in days.

"Why didn't you?" B'Elanna asked, not to taunt her, but with a sincere wish to know. "What kept you … " Alive? Sane? Yourself? "What kept you here?"

"Voyager would have been assimilated," was Seven's answer. "I already lost him. I cannot lose this crew as well."

In light of their captain's admission a moment ago, that simple sentence cut like a d'ktagh dagger. Kathryn must have felt the edge, because she closed her eyes and looked away.

"Well now," the older woman said eventually, standing up to put a hand on Seven's arm and leading her gently to the co-pilot's seat, "This crew isn't going anywhere without you. You're one of us, Seven. Remember that."

"I will."

They sat quietly for a long time, neither meeting the other's gaze. B'Elanna knew it was her turn, but did she have the courage? The longer they waited, the less she knew what to say, but she simply couldn't be the only one who walked away without telling the truth. Her mother would call that dishonourable, and for once she would be right.

"Kathryn … remember when you visited me in Sickbay the other day?" The older woman nodded. "When you asked me why I didn't care about the Delta Flyer? You were right. There really is something wrong."

She explained about the safety protocols, the Doctor's diagnosis, the deaths of the Maquis and her confrontation with Chakotay as best she could. If anyone had told her this morning that she'd be confessing all this to Kathryn and Seven, of all people - the woman she most looked up to and the one she most disliked - she'd have thought it was a bad joke, but they were really listening.

She sat in the third chair and clasped her hands together until her knuckles turned white.

"Last night I had banana pancakes and I could smile again," she went on, "So I thought it might be over … but in the morning it wasn't. The Doctor says we still don't fully understand how the brain works, and I might have to live like this for the rest of my life. I'm scared, okay? I don't want the Doc to go all Starfleet counsellor on me. I don't want to take drugs just so I can get out of bed in the morning. I just want to be normal … whatever the hell that is."

"That's the thing though, am I right?" said Kathryn, reaching over to squeeze B'Elanna's hand. "There is no normal. I've had depressive episodes on and off since I was an ensign. It never gets easier, but one does learn to live with it."

B'Elanna snorted. "Great. Something to look forward to."

"Do you consider it weakness to accept medical treatment?" Seven asked sardonically. "In that case, should I have my Borg implants removed?"

"Kahless, Seven, of course not." B'Elanna grimaced. For someone who claimed not to understand metaphor, the ex-Borg was pretty damn good at it. "It's just the way I was brought up. Like Kathryn said, parts of my brain know, but the others don't."

"Then synchronize them."

"Hear, hear," added Kathryn. "Easier said than done, though."

"Tell me about it," said B'Elanna.

They shared bittersweet smiles around the half-circle of chairs. They could have probably gone on like this for a while longer - B'Elanna, at least, still had more she wanted to say - but they only had one time slot booked, and were well aware of how it was passing.

"Thank you, girls," said Kathryn, holding out her hands. "I needed this. A lot."

"Me too," said B'Elanna. "I, uh … maybe we could hang out here again sometime."

Seven said nothing, only reached out to take her mentor's hand. For a moment, all three of them were linked before letting go.

"Now," said Kathryn, standing up and pulling authority back around her like a cloak, "It's time to jump. Lieutenant, can you show us how to get those suits on?"

"Same as a space suit, Captain. Like this."

They took the suits apart and climbed into them feet first, strapping everything up tightly as they went. This was only (only!) the holodeck, but in real life, the slightest gap could kill you.

"Computer," said Kathryn, her voice muffled through her helmet, "Are the safety protocols engaged?"

To her credit, she didn't even look at B'Elanna.

"Affirmative," said the computer.

"Computer, open the hatch."

The hatch hissed open. Under their feet lay the surface of Earth, just far enough that they could see the curve of the planet, but close enough to make out the familiar continents among the blue of the ocean and the white swirl of clouds.

"You can go first." Kathryn's gauntleted hand gestured to B'Elanna. "Show us how it's done."

B'Elanna stepped up to the hatch, spread her arms, and threw herself out into space.

That death-defying thrill wasn't there. Of course not, with the safeties on. The worst thing that could happen to her right now was to look silly, posing in mid-fall like one of Tom's superheroes. She didn't care.

Streaking toward Earth like a meteor, knowing she was safe and her friends were right behind her, she felt something no adrenaline rush could possibly replace: a sense of trust.