Chapter 7: Contending Parameters
A/N: Oh hi! Not sure if anyone is still waiting on an update. It's been a hot minute. I really haven't forgotten about this fic, but real life is insane. Motherhood is insane, and so is work. These days, I don't even know if I still exist. But then, when I write, I find myself between these pages, and it's really nice to know I still exist somewhere! That was entirely too philosophical. Excuse me. Imma pull myself together now and get to the point. The ending to this one is so near, and yet, I keep turning corners. I'm really not sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'm basically done with the next one as well. Hopefully, it'll be up sooner than 6 months from now.
ENJOY!
And if you have the time, drop a kind line. This mother needs it.
=/\=
Present day: Voyager - Holodeck One
Chakotay raked a hand through his hair. How he still had any left was beyond him at this point. The grey ones had definitely been increasing in volume and density. The reflection in the mirror told him as much. In fact, he physically felt as though he'd aged a decade in only a matter of weeks. He might as well.
New Earth.
The nerve.
Although, he had to give the hologram props for originality. Of all the dreaded "therapeutic" hoops he could have made Kathryn Janeway jump through, this one sure held the power to elicit a much stronger reaction than any of the more conventional tried-and-true methods. It sure as hell had driven a stake through his heart. Though, for entirely different reasons.
He mentally berated himself, then started in the direction of the shelter.
He'd made it to look exactly as it had done the day they'd found out about Voyager's return. Forever stuck in that moment right before his newfound bliss had been destroyed with a simple "we plan to be in orbit within thirty hours". He hadn't known until then how at peace he'd been with the thought of just living out his days on this quaint third planet of a seven-planet star system, orbiting a yellow dwarf star.
Living out his days with her.
He'd never been more content, more satisfied to settle.
"Lights," he called as he stepped inside the dark little hut.
The sameness of the place provided more than just comfort. It had helped him piece his mind and heart back together on the days his duties next to her had slowly chipped away at his sanity. He was only a little ashamed to admit he'd spent a couple of nights here on more than one occasion. Her scent lingering on sheets she'd never slept on, beckoning, fooling his mind for as long as it took to drift off.
When he'd revealed the program to the Doctor a mere eight hours before, he didn't think the man would abuse the privilege. The EMH had wanted to understand their mindset better. Get a sense of what their lives had been like. Chakotay had told him he could do him one better. When he'd activated Chakotay NE he should have had the sense to lock the program afterwards. But, he'd been careless, purposefully so. A small part of him kept hoping Kathryn would want to revisit New Earth one day. He wanted it to be easily accessible, make it possible for her to stumble across the file, and to just know what it was. Though, the logic behind his train of thought made no sense. She wouldn't just go perusing through his personal holodeck programs. No one would.
Except, it seemed, the Doctor.
=/\=
Present day: Voyager – Bridge
Harry suppressed a yawn.
Five hours into an eight-hour shift, and he could count the number of words that had been exchanged between himself and the rest of the bridge crew.
Five.
Five words.
Good afternoon, everyone and thank you. Even Tom looked to be nodding off behind the conn, which wasn't unusual in and of itself, but for some reason felt more conspicuous than normal. There was work to be done, yes. There was always something to be done on a Star ship, but a little conversation to keep the tediousness of today's routine scans and subsequent data analyses somewhat lively wouldn't be amiss. He had the utmost respect for Lieutenant Tuvok, but a vigorous conversationalist the man was not.
He sighed, and wondered when his superiors would return.
Granted, they hadn't been very communicative on the bridge of late either. In fact, rumour around the ship had it that they'd had a falling out of sorts. Based on the captain's atypical behaviour, it didn't seem like such a far-fetched theory.
Harry wasn't so sure, though.
B'Elanna had made her thoughts on the matter blatantly clear, and then Tom had jumped at the notion. Started a pool even, ("how long before they jump each other. Bids starting at a month's worth of replicator rations"), which felt a bit immoral, under the circumstances. Neelix had said it wasn't his place to comment, but ultimately had done so anyway, and then put in two months' worth of rations. Only Kes and Tuvok had kept their opinions to themselves, which had only helped to exacerbate his own suspicions. If that be the case, though, part of him felt oddly responsible.
He'd assumed they'd wanted to get off that planet as badly as the rest of the crew had wanted them back on the ship.
Apparently, he'd assumed wrong.
A sudden crude beeping started beneath his fingertips, dragged him back to the present.
Harry frowned.
"Uh, sir?" his voice broke through the stupor of the moment.
Tom's head jerked up in startled bewilderment; both his elbows slipped off the conn, but he caught himself just in time before his chin hit the console. Ensign Sharr supressed a chuckle.
"Yes, Mr. Kim?"
"We just lost power in both transporter rooms. The coms went down on deck 6, and the holodeck systems are completely scrambled. It seems like we're dealing with a complete malfunction…" he trailed. "On just one deck?" the tone in his voice went up, a statement turned into a question.
"Cause?" the Vulcan didn't miss a beat.
"I have no idea."
"Is the holodeck in use at present?"
"Yes, sir," Harry shifted through the data; he stopped, surprised. "Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay are currently residing in holodeck one."
That caught Tom's attention.
"You sure it's a malfunction?"
Tuvok coaxed a disapproving eyebrow at the man behind the conn, the implication not lost on him. He turned away and tapped his combadge.
"Tuvok to Engineering."
"Engineering here," B'Elanna's clear voice replied.
"We're detecting an abnormality on deck 6."
"Yes, we caught it too, sir."
"Thoughts?"
"Honestly," she began. "I'm stumped."
"Both the captain and the commander appear to be trapped on holodeck one," Tuvok continued.
"Yes, I'm trying to access the narrative parameters file, right now" she explained. "Maybe, that'll shed some light on the problem."
A pause.
Then.
"That little…" B'Elanna spewed, and what followed was a string of unbecoming words Harry didn't feel inclined to register.
"Lieutenant?"
"I think I know what's going on here. Harry, can you meet me in sickbay?"
Harry looked to Tuvok, who nodded.
"On my way."
"Great!" she said. "Torres out."
=/\=
Present day: Voyager – Holodeck one
One hour since lockup
He found her sitting along the riverbank, knees tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs, eyes staring into nothingness, and it hit him that she didn't quite look like Kathryn just then, nor the captain. At least not the versions he'd come to know. This woman looked broken, forlorn. He stepped closer, the soft artificial daylight unmistakably illuminating the irrefutable. She had been crying, was crying. Salty drops trailed freely down her cheeks in unbothered surrender. It put a knot in his stomach. This wasn't her. But then, nothing about this was, or had been.
He sat down.
She didn't move.
"Here," he said, and offered her one of the cups he'd carried with him. Just replicated, not quite for this purpose, but it would do.
"I know," he said, when she didn't take it. "The custom is water, but I figured coffee would work just as well in your case."
A hint of the smallest of smiles nipped at the corners of her mouth, and she accepted wordlessly.
Figured, he had yet to see her refuse a cup of coffee. What a bleak day that would be.
Her fingers brushed against his as she took the cup; his heart skipped. He missed that. Her touch. Her hands.
They sat in silence for a while. She sipping her coffee; he sipping his tea.
It was almost peaceful.
Tranquil.
"I really made a mess of things," she said, after some more minutes had passed. Her voice hoarse, void of anger. The captain's mask gone. For now.
He watched her down the last of her coffee, silently took her cup, then placed both his and hers beside him on the ground. Dexterously, as not to disturb whatever process was motivating her to speak frankly.
"The best of us do," he said.
She snorted.
"Do we?"
It was rhetorical, though, he felt the urge to respond.
"We didn't do anything wrong, Kathryn."
She turned to look at him, her eyes red, puffy.
"I almost wish we had," she whispered.
His heart ached, and it took every ounce of self-control for him to not take her into his arms, hold her close, but he wouldn't be able to deal with the rejection. Not again. It had taken every bit of self-determination for him to find ways to cope. A dozen or so vision quests, endless hours on the holodeck, putting to rest a version of a life that would never be. Every detail painstakingly transferred from his mind's eye to this holographic canvas of artificiality; his attempt at saving time in a bottle.
She took his silence in stride.
Her tears had dried now, stretched out streaks caked to her cheeks. He observed how the breeze swept across her face, toyed with strands of long dark auburn hair. He knew he should resist the urge, keep his distance, but his fingers had a mind of their own, acting, despite his better judgment; he tugged the errand strands behind her ear.
She flinched, but only a little.
It was enough.
"I can't do this," Chakotay finally answered, and made to stand. "I can't…"
He stopped, and rubbed a hand over his face. He was so tired.
"I can't pretend it never happened, and I don't think you can either," he challenged.
"Clearly," she conceded blankly.
He stared, surprised.
At least she wasn't denying it anymore.
"How do you propose we do this, Chakotay?" she challenged. "You and me together? Pick up where we left off? Voyager's power couple in more than one way?" she almost mocked.
"Would that be so terrible?"
She turned back to the river.
"There's a reason Starfleet captains aren't allowed to work on the same ship as their significant others," she simply stated.
"Yes," he said, and lowered himself beside her again, a couple inches closer than before.
He knew the regulations. In the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet captains were subjected to periodic psychological screenings. Usually, after long-term missions. They were required to disclose changes in emotional attachment to crewmembers. If it turned out a professional relationship had turned romantic that particular crewmember would be reassigned to a different ship. He'd never been opposed to the directive. In fact, he'd happily make the transfer if it changed anything. Trouble was that the only other ship at their disposal was Neelix's freighter. Oh, and they were thousands of lightyears from Federation space, that too.
"Our circumstances are unique," he said. "Starfleet wouldn't begrudge you a life. Hell, we've seen that it's close to impossible to uphold every single rule and regulation in the Delta Quadrant. You don't expect that from your crew, you shouldn't expect that from yourself."
"No?" she challenged. "Maria Ramirez, captain of the USS Calliope, sacrificed her entire crew during the Klingon war," she paused; he eyed her wearily. "She ignored orders to return to Federation space after the Klingons captured her First Officer. They'd only been involved for two months. She neglected to report it, then ordered her crew to follow her into a rescue mission," Kathryn shook her head, bored her eyes into his. "They went in blind, Chakotay. She put herself and her First Officer above the needs of those that trusted and served under her. They paid with their lives."
"That wouldn't happen to us."
"Her entire crew."
"You're stuck on something that happened over a hundred years ago."
"They weren't the last ones."
"It won't happen to us."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you wouldn't stand for it."
"You don't know that."
"No," he agreed. "No, I don't, but what choice do we have?"
Impatience gnawed at his nerve endings. How could she not see?
"We already crossed that line weeks ago, Kathryn. We ravished each other across every square inch of that forest clearing without any intention of stopping, and you know it," he turned sharply toward her. "Try as you might, there's no coming back from that," he snorted. "And oh, you have tried. But it isn't working, is it?"
Her expression shifted; his crass words darkening her features, but she knew he had a point. Even if they never shared a bed again, never let their touches linger, breaths mingle; he would still love her all the same, would still sacrifice everything he had and held if any harm would ever befall her. She loath to admit it, but she would too.
She hugged her knees closer.
"I'm scared," and there it was.
The truth.
Finally.
"I don't know how to do this," she admitted. "I don't know how to be both your lover and your captain."
He'd never seen her more scattered, more conflicted, and small. He'd never seen anything but the mask and glimpses of the woman behind it, but now he could see them all. The woman, the officer and lover, uncertain, hiding safely behind the formidable captain Kathryn Janeway. He didn't love her any less for it. No. In fact, he might even love her just a little bit more.
"I know," he said, and pulled her to him. "I don't either."
=/\=
Present day: Voyager - Sickbay
"No, his ethical subroutines are fine."
"Then, what?" Harry countered, getting somewhat frustrated with the mind-numbing task of shifting through an insurmountable assortment of data without having a clear idea as to what he was looking for.
"I'm standing right here, you know?"
B'Elanna squared her shoulders, and regarded the EMH with a somewhat sour expression.
"Yes," she retorted. "And you're in my way."
"Excuse me?" the Doctor replied, affronted. "I'll have you know that it's still my holomatrix the two of you are tempering with."
"We're not tempering with anything," Harry sighed. "We're trying to fix it."
"There's nothing wrong with me."
B'Elanna snorted.
"What about his cognitive subroutines?" Harry continued.
"No significant fluctuations detectable there either."
"I am completely fine!"
"Look," B'Elanna whirled on the Doctor. "People don't lock other people up in holodeck simulations, cut off all communication, and then expect them to just solve their own issues with nothing to go off but a series of instructions. That isn't therapy, Doctor. That's not even common sense."
The EMH narrowed his eyes at her.
"What are you implying, lieutenant?"
She grid her teeth.
"That I'm an engineer, not a goddamn holo-programmer."
"Will he be alright?" Kes asked, concern heavy in her tone.
"Yes," Harry assured. "If we find out what caused the malfunction." He paused, then turned to B'Elanna, a sudden thought occurring. "Can't we just delete the new subroutines?"
"Excuse me?!"
"Yes," she said, stepping closer to the station Harry was working at. "But it would be a last resort. Bits of his long-term memory files would be affected. May I?"
Harry moved aside and watched how B'Elanna quickly shifted through chunks of data until she found what she was looking for.
"See?" she pointed. "Here, here and there."
Harry frowned.
B'Elanna sighed.
"You're aware the EMH program is capable of learning, right?"
Harry nodded.
"Okay, so the instant new data enters the Doctor's short-term memory it behaves in much the same way fresh data would in an actual brain. The only difference between a hologram's brain and a true brain is that his holomatrix enables us to bypass the short-term memory to then directly insert new information in his long-term memory. Subroutines. As long as the Doctor doesn't access them, they can be removed safely, without harm. The moment he uses them, they merge with already existing subroutines. Deleting them would be as hazardous as," she shook her head, and frowned. "I don't know, separating hydrogen from nitrogen. Besides, if we delete them now, we wouldn't be able to find out what triggered the malfunction in the first place."
"I AM NOT MALFUNCTIONING!"
"Doctor," Kes said, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down. I'm sure lieutenant Torres and ensign Kim will treat your program with the same care and respect you treat your patients."
"No," he demanded. "I am not malfunctioning, Kes! For heaven's sake, this was your suggestion. Your idea!"
"I never–"
"You said to let them sort it out themselves. To find a way to get them to talk and to create a circumstance in which they would have to!"
"Yes, but I also said they should have a choice."
"I gave them one!"
"You locked them up!" B'Elanna forcefully reiterated.
"Yes, well," he huffed, as though he couldn't quite grasp why they all kept falling over that one pesky little detail. "Only after captain Janeway tried to leave."
B'Elanna threw her hands up in the air.
"I give up," she said, and returned to her work.
"Doctor," Harry cut in. "Just answer me this, and keep the Hippocratic Oath in mind when you do. Under what circumstance would you lock a patient up?"
"Well, that's easy," he smirked. "If the patient poses a potential risk to him/herself or to others."
"Right," Harry continued. "What did the captain and the commander do that warranted being locked up?"
"Nothing!" he instantly replied.
A beat.
"Oh," the Doctor's face fell sharply. "Oh dear."
He turned to Kes.
"I am malfunctioning, aren't I?"
Kes nodded sympathetically.
"It's alright, Doctor," she assured. "We'll figure it out."
