The prisoner – Seven recalled his name to be Iko – was already on a bed and even at a distance, she could see he was in bad shape. Bruises and bloody cuts mottled his face. Seven held back a shudder. As much as she disliked the man and condemned what he'd done with his life, she would have liked to think species like the Nygeans were advanced enough to overcome their basic brutality. She knew well enough no species had outgrown its violent roots, but it was still disturbing to see the evidence for herself.
The Doctor looked over as she entered, quickly returning his attention to his instruments. "You remember Mr. Iko."
"Vividly." It would be hard to forget a man who'd taken her hostage only hours earlier.
"The Nygeans decided to make an example of him." His scowl and dark tone made it clear just what he thought of the Nygeans. Seven, however much she disliked the idea of personally taking life, was not in the mood for a debate about the ethics of death penalties. She already knew her ideas did not match up with the Doctor's. Nor was she ready to confront the conflict within herself at the brutality before her.
"Did you call me here to make a point about Nygean barbarity?"
"I called you here," he said with a chastising glare, "because I need your help to save his life. He sustained a severe blow to the head which has caused severe oedema in his parietal lobe. It's blocking vital neurotransmitters. I'd like to program some of your nanoprobes to bypass the oedema."
There was no real point to saving his life, but it was easier to go with the Doctor's request than debate it. "Very well."
"But?"
"He is going to be executed. Does it matter if he dies now, while he is unaware of his situation, or later in a Nygean prison?"
The Doctor huffed. "If the Nygeans insist on killing him, there isn't much I can do about it, but I won't let them do it on Voyager."
Seven shrugged. Since she'd not taken the man's attack on her personally, it really made no difference to her besides believing it to be a waste of time and resources. She stood still as the Doctor extracted the necessary nanoprobes and even helped him sequence them. They worked in silence, each sensing the other didn't want to know exactly what they were thinking.
Not even an hour later, the Doctor was able to press a hypospray to Iko's neck, waking him. Seven watched, safely on the other side of the surgical bay's shield.
"You suffered severe neurological trauma, but I believe we've repaired the damage," said the Doctor, barely letting his patient time to orient himself before launching into an explanation of the situation.
"Thank you." The words surprised Iko. The habit to thank people had been practically beaten into him by his grandmother and parents, but never seemed to take. That it would be an impulse now was beyond strange. The Doctor, however, didn't notice his discomfort.
"Don't thank me." The Doctor smiled happily. "Thank Seven of Nine. She donated the nanoprobes that saved your life."
Iko looked over and saw the tall blonde he'd held a scalpel to earlier. Immediately, a sharp pain had him doubled over. "Oh! My head."
The Doctor, attributing the exclamation to the nanoprobes working their magic on his injuries, went to prepare something to relieve his patient.
With the EMH gone, Iko looked up at the only other person close by. He was surprised to see – that is to say, he was not used to seeing – calm collectedness. Her eyes were bright blue, more vivid and intriguing than any eyes he'd ever seen. She looked up and pierced him with her cold, calm gaze. That was when he realized something he believed he ought to have noticed when he took her hostage. "You're not afraid of me."
Feeling the instinct to scoff or smile, Seven pushed both aside and simply answered him simply. "There's no reason to fear someone in your condition."
Iko, who now gazed at her with a clarity he didn't possess before, shook his head briefly. "No, you aren't afraid," he said slowly, like a man waking from a dream to tell a passerby the finer points of his visions. "You weren't ever afraid, not even when I tried to kill you."
Seven, recognizing the moment as significant and yet incapable of interpreting it fully, could only raise a brow in confirmation of his assessment.
"It's nice," said Iko, "to look into someone's eyes and not see fear."
His gaze was intense, as though he'd never seen someone like her before and was entranced like a child seeing the sun or moon for the first time. It was too much. She reverted to dry humour to make herself feel better. "Perhaps you would have better luck if you don't hold a laser scalpel to your acquaintance's throats."
Iko nodded, but the movement seemed to pain him and he had to put his hands against his forehead again.
[Chakotay's Bedroom]
The bed was cozy and warm. Or perhaps that was due to Chakotay snuggled up against her back, his arm around her like another, infinitely comforting blanket. Dinner the night before had been pleasant and though they were both too tired for anything besides just falling into bed and sleeping, Seven chose to rest with him instead of going to regenerate. They were both deeply asleep when they were jolted awake.
"Doctor to Seven of Nine."
They both jumped awake. Chakotay let out a loud groan at the disturbance and pulled her in closer, throwing a leg over her for good measure.
Despite her bedmate's grumbly reaction, Seven was able to reach her badge thanks to her long limbs.
"Can you join me in sickbay, please?"
"I will be there—"
"Later," Chakotay hissed in her ear. "You'll be there later."
"—when I can."
A pause. "Oh. All right. Doctor out."
Seven settled back down, smiling as Chakotay kissed her neck and sighed happily. "You're very rude," she teased.
"At 04:00 hours I reserve the right to be grumpy, mean, cantankerous and rude to whoever I choose. It's my privilege as a commanding officer."
"You've never been any of those things with me."
He pressed another warm kiss to her neck. "That's because you're the only one who outranks me here."
[Sickbay]
Seven sauntered into sickbay just in time to hear Iko state, with a mix of sadness and whimsy, that he wished he was made of light like the Doctor. The statement made her pause. It wasn't what he said, but the way he said it. There was something pitiful in his tone, honest and childlike. She shook herself, bringing her back into focus.
The man, thought Iko, if he'd been made of light, I couldn't have hurt him. He began to feel strange.
"Ah, Seven!" The Doctor stepped back through the forcefield to greet her.
"You wanted to see me?"
That man… That poor man.
"Yes, Mr. Iko responded so well to the first dose of nanoprobes, I thought a second might improve his condition further. It'll only take a moment to extract them."
I killed him… Images of the bloody murder and the dead man's staring eyes stabbed Iko's mind.
She still thought it was silly, this use of resources for a man who was theoretically already dead, but she complied. "You and Mr. Iko seem to be getting along well."
The Doctor nodded. "It's the strangest thing. When he first arrived he was crude, abusive. Now he's a model patient. He's grateful, considerate, listens to instructions..."
Why did I even kill him? I didn't need to. Quiet in his reminiscence, Iko's cyclical thoughts went around and around without notice by Seven or the EHM.
"He's obviously an unstable individual. Inconsistent behaviour is hardly surprising, especially if he is used to manipulating those around him." Yes, that would explain her unexpected empathy with the criminal. He was manipulating her. After the Doctor began touting Iko's graciousness as a patient, she suspected the criminal was manipulating the EMH as well.
"Perhaps."
Their work was interrupted by Iko himself.
"Doctor?"
The Doctor and Seven looked over, various levels of concern crossing their features at the way he was clutching his sides. "What's the matter?"
"My stomach."
The Doctor quickly stepped inside the forcefield and ran a scan, but couldn't find anything to explain pain or even a bit of discomfort. He was about to start a more thorough scan in the event it was a neurological issue when Iko's words stopped him cold.
"I—I – I can't stop thinking about the man I killed."
Seven, who had only experienced a variety of emotions, most of them negative, for the first time less than three years ago, was quicker than the Doctor to identify the source of Iko's pain and turmoil. "You're experiencing guilt."
"Is that why I'm feeling sick?"
The Doctor nodded, trying to think up a reason for the sudden and unusually strong reaction in his patient. "Nausea could be a symptom of guilt."
"I've never felt guilty before."
"You've committed many crimes," said Seven. Perhaps the burden of them had finally caught up with him.
"None of them made me feel like this," said Iko. He looked to the EMH and Seven with tortured eyes. "Why did you do this to me?"
"You committed the crimes," Seven reminded him. "You are responsible for your own guilt, not us."
"Seven!" the Doctor said.
"Intense feelings are common and usually proportional to the pain caused to others." She ignored the Doctor, who looked at her sharply. She thought he might be wondering if she had felt the same way Iko did when she discovered the emotion. She had.
Iko shook his head, still clutching his sides as he fought nausea. "I've never felt this way. Ididn't feel like this until you put those nanoprobes in me. You knew this would happen, didn't you? This is some kind of punishment."
The Doctor shook his head, but Iko was adamant.
"You did this. Take the nanoprobes out." The memory of the dead man's body refused to leave him. It was like someone had fused the picture to the other side of his eyes.
"I can't," said the Doctor. "You could die."
"Please." He groaned, the pain in his heart and mind too much, his stomach rolling with the new sensation of guilt. "I don't want to feel this way anymore."
The Doctor gave Iko one last scan as the man continued to moan. He then took Seven's arm and ushered her to his office.
"Doctor?"
"He might be right," the Doctor whispered as they entered the privacy of the separate room.
"If anything, nanoprobes repress guilt, not emphasise it."
The Doctor frowned at her as he pulled the results of his examinations up on the larger screen at his desk. "You're proof that that's not true."
Seven sighed. "You don't honestly believe we're responsible for his condition."
"We applied the Borg technology." Growing excited as he found what he was looking for, the Doctor pointed to the screen. It was a vivid image of Iko's brain. "Look at this. It's my most recent scan. The neurotransmitters have established new pathways throughout his cortex."
She glanced at it. "I thought that was your intention."
"No, I was simply trying to bypass the oedema." He pointed to where the injury had been. It was healed, but far away from the new neurological activity.
She didn't bother pointing out that the only way to bypass a brain injury was to open up new neural pathways. Clearly, he meant the pathways in the cortex were more extensive than he'd expected and in locations he didn't anticipate. Given the exactness needed to program Borg nanoprobes, she understood his confusion. "Then how did this happen?"
"I don't know. It's possible this is normal Nygean brain activity, but I have no basis for comparison."
"Considering his reaction, I would suspect it is not normal for him." She thought a moment. "You should ask Mr Yediq to contact a Nygean medical official. Maybe they could provide some relevant information."
[Corridor]
Seven left sickbay in a state of confusion. On the one hand, she found it suspiciously coincidental that Iko had mysteriously developed a sense of remorse and whimsy. And yet she believed him. He'd asked her about her work, growing almost innocent in reminiscing about the stars he'd seen in his youth. His curiosity about astrometrics and the constellations she studied was almost sweetly whimsical, his memory of watching them as a child not unlike the memories she had of being on the Raven. He could be manipulating her, but his expressions had the ring of open truth.
"Are you all right?"
Seven started at Icheb's voice. She hadn't realized she already reached astrometrics. "I am undamaged."
"You were in sickbay?"
"Yes, I provided more nanoprobes for the Doctor and... I had a discussion with the patient."
Icheb's brow furrowed in confusion. "The prisoner?"
"Yes."
"The one who took you hostage."
Seven smiled. "I assure you, he remained behind a forcefield the entire time."
Still frowning a little, Icheb turned back to work. Though he stood at a console, he was not working per se. He was researching and compiling a paper on temporal anomalies for his Starfleet courses.
"I am going to collect some data and return to sickbay after lunch. Is that permissible?" she asked, teasing him.
"To provide more nanoprobes?"
"If required." She didn't want to tell him about her unusual conversation with Iko, or that she was actually going back to give the convict data on the constellations he'd connected with in childhood.
"It seems an inefficient use of resources." He glanced at her, not liking that she was expected to give up nanoprobes without hesitation to save the man who'd tried to kill her. Her small smile at his remark irritated him. "What?"
"I said the same thing."
"You did?"
She nodded. "It may interest you to know the nanoprobes seem to have given the prisoner a change in personality."
"How so?"
"He appears to have developed a sense of right and wrong."
"And you believe him?" Icheb was incredulous.
"I am open to the possibility of redemption."
Icheb opened his mouth to argue, but nothing would come to him. Eventually, he just nodded and returned to work. He'd not been fully assimilated by the Borg so he'd never personally participated in the atrocities of the Collective. However, knowledge transmitted through the hive mind ensured he had at least an idea of the process and the trauma. Seven, Icheb knew, had full personal knowledge of the assimilation process.
Redemption sounded really good.
[Cargo Bay/ Brig]
Neelix sat in cargo bay one, which had been converted into a makeshift jail, a Kadis Kot board in front of him and prisoners and guards all around. His presence and actions were at odds with his company. He'd felt nervous at first, but now he was at ease, having pushed aside his judgmental instincts in favour of compassion.
Joleg, the Benkaran Neelix had befriended, eyed the board. The game wasn't difficult to grasp, but he didn't want to defeat the Talaxian too quickly or make it look too easy. He made his move almost hesitantly. "Eleven six, green."
Neelix smiled, not disappointed that he'd lost. "That's Kadis-kot. Congratulations. You know," he said kindly as he reset the board, "I've been doing some research on the Nygean legal system. You were right about the Benkarans receiving harsher sentences. I saw the statistics."
Joleg glanced up at Neelix, careful not to sound more than accepting and a little sad. "The statistics won't save me."
"I noticed some people convicted of murder, even terrible premeditated murders, weren't executed. Some aren't punished at all, but you were sentenced to death."
Joleg knew all that. It was common knowledge in Nygean society. He calmed his excitement at Neelix's clear sense of social outrage and answered as though he was explaining a blue sky to a child. "That's what the family wants."
"The family?"
"After you're convicted, the family of the victim sentences you." He hid a smile as the Talaxian's brows rose at that information.
"Well, shouldn't you be sentenced by someone less partial, like a judge?"
"Vekto valek k'vadim. It's ancient Nygean. It means to favour the victims. What if I stole your game board? What right would a judge have to assign value to your loss? To him, it's just a game board, but to you it might be a priceless family possession. What right does he have to assign a level of importance to your item?"
Neelix shrugged, gleaning some of the reason behind the system.
"And what if I murdered your child?"
Neelix didn't like it, but he understood both the logic and unfairness of the system. A day didn't go by that he didn't wish he could get revenge for his family. When he'd first learned what happened to his home world, he wanted to attack and murder every last enemy with his bare hands.
"Vekto valek k'vadim. It's the basis for the Nygean legal system."
"What about the criminals that didn't serve any sentence at all?" Surely anyone who suffered the loss of a loved one would want the criminal to die, just as Neelix wished his family's murderers would die a horrible death.
"Some people prefer restitution to revenge." Joleg smiled, seeing Neelix's revulsion at the idea before he'd even finished. "If a defendant is wealthy enough, he can negotiate a settlement with the victim's family."
"That doesn't seem fair."
"It's perfectly fair, unless you're destitute." Unspoken was the fact that Joleg was in just such a situation as were many Benkarans. Historical circumstances made them disadvantaged, making those who escaped their poverty a rarity. While that didn't necessarily mean they were more inclined to be criminals, Joleg had followed the example of his criminal brothers and his own depraved inclinations. Of course, the Talaxian didn't need to know about the rest of Joleg's criminal history or why circumstantial evidence had been enough to convict him.
"Maybe I can talk to the captain about finding a way to compensate your victims," said Neelix. It was unbearable to him that a kind man like Joleg would be sent to die like a pig to slaughter for something he hadn't even done.
This is too easy. "I'm grateful. But it would imply I'm guilty. I wouldn't want that."
"There must be something I can do." Neelix's mind raced from compensation to possible appeals. Surely a competent advocate could show how Joleg was innocent.
Joleg restrained his impulse to laugh and gloat. How easy it was to bend an honest person to his will! He was willing to bet that a few more pathetic stories and Neelix would break him out of prison and give him a hot meal to go. "You can transmit a letter to my brother. I'd like to let him know what's happened to me."
"I'll get a PADD."
[Mess]
Chakotay was unaccustomed to waiting for Seven. She usually beat him to whichever location they'd agreed to meet. Given how late he was – all thanks to the added burden of dealing with so many unexpected guests – he was surprised he had to wait at all.
"Stood up?" Tom didn't wait for an invitation, settling down with Chakotay despite the older man's frown. Though they were late, the lunch rush hadn't dissipated yet.
"No." I don't think so.
"Well, in any case, I have something I meant to ask you."
"Oh?" He picked at the food on his plate. It wasn't terribly appealing or easily identifiable. Is this lasagna?
"Bachelor party."
"Pardon?"
"You need a bachelor party." Tom shovelled the collection of noodles, vegetables, and cheese into his mouth, doing his best to ignore the leola root. "Of course, it would be easier to plan one if I knew the date you and Seven set."
Chakotay frowned. "We haven't set a date."
Tom shook his head, disappointed in the older man. "If you don't want her to get away, you better seal the deal as soon as you can."
He couldn't help laughing at that. "Says the man who dated B'Elanna for how long?"
"That's different," Tom said, grinning. "I had to work the ol' charm with her. I don't think you noticed, but B'Elanna can be standoffish until she gets to know you."
"And Seven's not?"
"All the more reason to hurry before she comes to her senses."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence." Chakotay continued to smile and joke as Tom pitched ideas for a bachelor party. Chakotay made sure not to lean too far in any particular direction, not wanting Tom to get carried away too quickly.
Though Chakotay pretended nothing was wrong, his relationship with Seven had not been so smooth as to prevent him from feeling his hold a little tenuous. Tom's words left him with a niggling doubt. Should we have fixed a date already?
Despite his distraction, Chakotay could not have missed Seven's entrance. So desirous to see her, he kept one eye on the door and one on Tom, hoping to spot her blonde hair through the crowd. He was eventually rewarded.
"I apologise for my tardiness." Seven settled in the seat next to Chakotay, restraining her urge to kiss him since Tom was there. She nodded at the pilot.
"No problem. I figured you got held up."
Seven bobbed her head. She took his abandoned fork and started poking at the casserole left on his plate. Normally she would have gotten her own, but it would have been a waste. She wasn't very hungry. Besides, it didn't look appetizing… or edible. "I assisted the Doctor most of the morning and then was catching up on work."
"So, Seven," said Tom, sparing a quick, teasing glance at Chakotay, "I was wondering if you've thought about a date for your wedding."
Without missing a beat, Seven looked up at him. "With so many people providing suggestions, it has been difficult to imagine what would suit us."
"Ah." A lesser man would have squirmed under her unwavering, unblinking gaze. Tom, however, was used to challenging women and had always been unfazed by Seven's mannerisms. Ignoring her deliberate attempts to intimidate him was not hard. "Well, it's something you two will want to think about quick. I know B'Elanna and the Captain are eager for your bachelorette party."
"That much is evident." She returned to picking at the remnants of Chakotay's plate.
Though she had fulfilled her promise to look up the constellations Iko mentioned, his condition haunted her. She knew what intense guilt felt like, remembered being sick with it and going to the Doctor to help make it go away. He'd assured her it was nothing he could help with, that she would have to deal with it on her own. That was the first time. She'd experienced many instances of intense guilt, but never again troubled the EMH with it, not even when it left her unable to regenerate or eat, not when she could barely make herself walk let alone work, not even when she'd stood in her cargo bay wondering why she bothered to breathe.
"Seven?"
She looked up and between the two men, unsure which one had spoken her name. "Pardon?"
"I asked if you'd considered a theme," said Tom.
"No, I didn't." She sighed, putting her fork down. "I am uncomfortable enough with parties. I do not require a theme."
Tom, to do him credit, gave this admittance all due sympathy and thoughtfulness. "You know, there's nothing to say we can't make it a party for the whole ship and combine the bachelor and bachelorette party. It's less work and with a bigger crowd, you two will only be the focus for a little bit." He brightened with an idea. "Fairhaven is always lively. It's a good place for a party and there's always enough going on to distract most attendees."
Seven, who had only attended Fairhaven once for an obligatory ten minutes and once with Chakotay, looked to her fiancé, who rubbed his chin. He leaned back in his seat, slinging an arm around the back of her chair as he tried to envision it.
"Yes, that just might be a good idea." Chakotay glanced at Tom, but his focus quickly returned to Seven. "How soon can you put something together, Tom?"
Seven's brows raised, but she didn't say anything against him.
It was Tom's turn to look between them. "Uh, I suppose I can have a party put together for the end of the month."
"Good," said Chakotay. "Then the wedding will be a week after." Despite his confident statement, he raised a brow, silently asking Seven's confirmation. She nodded briefly, but looked nervous.
It was enough for Tom. He wished for them to enjoy their lunch and hurried away.
"What's wrong?" Chakotay asked when they were alone.
"Are you sure that's long enough to plan a wedding?" Unspoken was her desire to ensure the whole experience would be perfect… for him even more than for her.
"I told you, I'm not picky." And yet, he felt a little guilty at having left it all to her to deal with. "Why don't we talk about the details tonight? We're efficient individuals. I'm sure we can figure it out."
Seven smiled, feeling herself relax as a weight she didn't realize she'd been carrying was lifted. Maybe the whole crew wouldn't come to her with questions about every possible aspect of the ceremony. "That would be acceptable."
"Good." Despite the full mess hall, Chakotay leaned forward, his hand coming to rest on the back of her neck to guide her to him. The kiss was shorter than he would have liked, but he didn't argue when she pulled away, her eyes darting around… as though anyone paid them any attention.
Despite Chakotay's confidence – which she found oddly endearing and even a little emboldening – Seven still found public displays of affection embarrassing. She knew eventually it would dissipate, but until then she fought her desire to give in to his affection and moved away in case anyone was watching.
"I am returning to sickbay after lunch," she said. She glanced at Chakotay, somewhat uncertain of what his reaction would be. There was a definite stiffening in his shoulders, but otherwise he appeared passive. The hand he left along her chair drew circles on her shoulder, soothing both of them.
"Oh? Everything all right?"
"Yes. The prisoner, Iko, requested I look up some constellations."
Surprised, Chakotay quirked a brow at her.
"The infusion of nanoprobes into his system has had some unusual side effects. He literally is not the same man he initially was. The Doctor is researching it."
"Have you ever heard of anything like this happening before?"
"No." She hesitated.
"What?"
"I have a theory, but would prefer to wait for the Doctor's diagnosis."
"Well, I'd like to hear your theory." Chakotay's arm rested around her back, warm and encouraging. He was no Betazoid, but he was getting a pretty good handle on how to coax what he wanted from her.
"Very well. The Doctor found the nanoprobes created new neural pathways in the prisoner's brain. It was originally to bypass an injury, but the prisoner has also undergone a personality change. I suspect the pathways created bypassed an old injury or defect that prevented him from feeling remorse."
"It's possible." It was common knowledge that brain injuries could cause severe personality changes in humans. There was no reason to believe any other species was immune to such things. "I would have thought, though, that Nygean society and medical science was advanced enough that they'd catch such a problem."
"As would I. However, it may be that they simply have no cure for it, or he never sought treatment."
Chakotay shrugged. "I'll be curious to hear what the Doctor finds."
"I will be sure to notify you."
He nodded, his eyes on her, taking in more than she realized. "What else?"
It was her turn to quirk a brow.
"Something else is bothering you. What is it?"
Seven tried to frown, but his insight was too endearing and it melted into a small smile. "I am considering the similarities between us, me and Ik – the prisoner."
"You mean the sudden resurgence of a conscience?" Yes, he could understand that. Seven had no compass for morality until she learned it… all thanks to the Borg. This prisoner could very likely be the same. "How responsible for his previous actions was he if they were the result of a biological defect?"
"Precisely."
Chakotay sighed, sad to admit he had no answers. "That is a question toiled over for centuries. I can only tell you what my grandfather told me when I posed the question to him."
"Which is?"
"Life is a series of challenges and lessons for us to learn, some now and some in the afterlife. In the end, this existence holds no easy answers. We can only do what we think is best in the moment."
"That is not particularly comforting," she said with a frown.
Chakotay laughed. "That's pretty much what I said too."
"And what is your response?" She arched a brow.
"It's the best answer we've got."
[Sickbay]
No explosions or other dangerous encounters meant Iko was the only patient in sickbay when Seven returned later that afternoon. After talking with Chakotay, she returned to astrometrics and downloaded more than just the data on the stellar cartography Iko had mentioned. It occurred to her – quite possibly because Chakotay's more tender presence put her in mind of human sentimentality – that Iko would prefer images to simple data.
The security guard let her through the surgical bay's forcefield without question. She handed Iko the PADD. "I thought you might find this interesting."
Iko took the PADD and glanced down. "What is it?"
"An astrometrics log. It contains data on various star formations." She gave a slight nod, prompting Iko to change the page displayed. "And it has images from our scans."
It was more than he'd hoped for and yet…
Seven watched Iko's shoulders slump just a little and was disappointed. "Is it not sufficient?"
"No, it's wonderful." Indeed, the images were more detailed than he would have seen with his naked eye, but they lacked something. "It's just not the same as looking at the stars for myself."
"Is there much difference?" She could only really remember looking at astronomical data and images through the filter of technology or as they passed on a starship. Before that, it had been through the Collective's mind.
Iko nodded firmly. "Oh, yes, very different. When you're lying on the ground, seeing the whole universe spread out across the sky, you realize how small your life is, how miraculous the smallest life is." He looked up at her. "Haven't you ever felt that?"
Seven shook her head. "I don't recall. I was assimilated as a child and since then been confined more or less to a ship."
"Assimilated?" He eyes moved to the metal above her eye. "Is that where you got that?"
"Yes. It's a cybernetic implant." Then, because he seemed not to comprehend, she added, "It was installed by the Borg."
He imagined having a piece of metal placed around his eye. "It must have hurt."
She shifted uncomfortably. "I don't recall."
"I hurt people," he said, emphasizing his own blame. Shame and sorrow filled him to the brim. "I deserve to die."
Seven had no answer. She often felt the same way about herself.
[Briefing Room]
Seven was not sure if she was relieved or depressed to be proven right in her theories about Iko. The Doctor's scans and comparisons to other Nygeans proved he'd undergone a fundamental change in biology that allowed him to access parts of his brain that had cut him off from his emotions and conscience. That he was no longer the same man meant even she didn't believe his death sentence was warranted. However, she knew even less about how to argue his case or what outcome she desired for him.
Luckily, Yediq's blatant disregard for his prisoner's health and life made it easier for her to take a contrary stand.
Around the briefing room were Seven, Captain Janeway, the Doctor, Lt. Tuvok, and Yediq. Seven knew Janeway would support the Doctor's suggestion for a retrial, but how far the Captain would push the request was uncertain. They were a single ship in foreign territory and couldn't risk taking on a whole system over the fundamentals of their justice system.
"Are you suggesting we release him?" Yediq's incredulous tone left no doubt as to how he felt about such a thing.
"Of course not," said the Doctor, "but at the very least his case should be re-examined."
"Because he's sorry." Yediq scoffed.
Seven spoke up. "There's new medical evidence to be considered."
"None of it changes the fact that he killed a man."
"No." There was no excuse for what he'd done, just an explanation. "However, he was suffering from a neurological defect. He couldn't control his behaviour."
The Doctor supported her. "If Iko had been diagnosed and treated, he never would have committed that crime. In a matter of speaking, he's a victim of his own biology."
"So Iko is the victim now?" Yediq laughed. "Ridiculous."
Janeway held up a pacifying hand. "No one's denying that he committed a terrible crime, but as a result of the Doctor's treatments he's undergone a significant change. Killing him won't accomplish anything."
"That's not your decision to make."
"Nor is it yours," said Seven evenly. Inside she was bristling. Yediq was neither a victim nor the judicial system itself… What made him think he could dictate what happed?
Yediq faced Seven, unyielding and unaware of what she had been. Like Iko, he was ignorant of what the metal on her face and hand meant. "He's obviously deceiving you somehow."
Janeway, already hearing the rise in their voices, knew this argument would only get out of hand unless she intervened. "Listen, we could debate this all day, but the fact is our personal opinions are irrelevant. All that matters is Nygean law."
Tuvok, the most versed in legal systems of them all, asked what should have been asked initially. "Does Iko have a legal means of appeal at his disposal?"
Yediq sighed, but answered truthfully. He hated, absolutely hated criminals, but he was also an honourable enough man to uphold the law as best he could. "In accordance with Nygean penal code, a capital defendant has a right to appeal his sentence to the family of his victims."
[Sickbay]
"Take back the appeal."
This was not the response Seven expected and yet she understood his meaning instantly. "You'd rather die because you think it'll relieve your pain?"
Iko was adamant, so much so that she would have believed he'd become dangerous if his new personality weren't so against violence. "Death is what I deserve. You say I've changed, but I look at these hands every day and I see them squeezing that man's throat. And I hear the sounds he made. I'm disgusting."
Seven hesitated. "Do you think I'm disgusting?"
He was confused by the question, staring at her a second before answering. "No, you've been nothing but kind to me."
"You asked me earlier about my occipital implant. It did hurt and it still does."
"Why did you lie?"
"I was Borg, assimilated into the Collective and as a result, I forced others to undergo the same procedure. I took their lives away. It doesn't physically hurt anymore, but I often think about the lives I destroyed."
"Why did you do it?" He quirked his head, truly trying to understand, unable to comprehend how this kind woman with the piercing eyes could have done such a thing.
"I was compelled to do so by the Borg Collective. I wasn't in control of my actions, just as you weren't in control when you took a life. My nanoprobes have given you control. You're a different person now. You don't deserve to be executed."
Iko stared at her, both of them wondering if she was trying to convince him that his life was worth saving, or if the conversation was equally about her. In the end, Iko decided it didn't matter if she was trying to convince herself of something. He knew what he'd done, what his fate was, and what he deserved.
"What are you doing?" Seven watched as he reached out and pressed his hand against the forcefield, shaking with the effort and pain it cost him.
"I want to go back to my cell."
"You don't have to."
"It's what I deserve."
[Chakotay's Quarters]
He found her, sitting with her back to him and watching the passing stars. She didn't move when the doors opened, didn't even acknowledge his presence. Given that he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her for almost two days, it hurt a little. A short conversation with Captain Janeway before the end of his shift, however, tempered his pain. Seven's absence wasn't about him.
"How are you?"
"I am…"
He waited, standing just a little behind her, waiting for her to say she was fine, or her version of the stereotypical response. It never came. "Seven?"
"I am not well."
Immediately, he rounded the couch she'd turned to face the large windows. He saw with some surprise and instant sympathy that her eyes were watery. He longed to gather her into his arms, but he wasn't sure how that would be received. Seven, still attempting stoicism, refused to let the tears fall.
He'd heard, of course, how it was a prisoner's brother who attacked them, trying to break the prisoners from their confinement.
He'd also heard how Iko, the man whose life Seven tried to save, was denied his freedom even after saving Yediq, a man and torturer he could easily have allowed to die. Chakotay had read the reports from the Doctor, had talked about the situation with Janeway, helped Tuvok facilitate the legal appeal, and waited patiently for the person at the crux of the situation to reach out in her own time. She'd remained hidden from him – pumping out a warp core analysis in record time and avoiding all unnecessary contact – until now.
"They denied his appeal," she said, looking up at him.
Chakotay nodded. That had occurred over twenty-four hours ago. "I heard. I'm sorry."
Seven looked back at the stars. "He's dead now."
There was really nothing he could think of to say.
"He was with me in astrometrics when they came to take him back to his cell."
Chakotay nodded again, but remained otherwise still. He'd heard this too.
"I could have done more."
"Like take on all the guards and help him escape?" He tried to smile, but the joke fell flat. "From what the Doctor told me, he wouldn't have gone even if you'd tried."
Seven looked away, hiding a stray tear.
Hoping her appearance in their quarters instead of taking the night to regenerate meant she wanted his presence, Chakotay sat next to her. His hand reached out, touching the hair lying across the back of the couch, but not quite daring to pull her closer. "You did your best to help him, Seven. No one could have done more."
She nodded, but was unmoved.
"You were hoping to gain personal redemption by saving him."
Seven looked at him. She would have at least smirked if it had been under different circumstances. "You and Captain Janeway are uncannily perceptive." At his raised brow, she elaborated. "She visited me this afternoon in astrometrics. She suggested I'd been punished enough for the atrocities I committed for the Borg."
"She's right," said Chakotay without hesitation. "You didn't do what you did for the Borg, you did it because of them, because you weren't in control."
"Neither was Iko." Despite Janeway's assurances that the years she lost to the Borg was punishment enough, Seven almost yearned for a more tangible penalty. How could Iko be killed for something that was arguably not his fault while she lived on? It was so unfair she would have traded places with Iko if she could.
Chakotay frowned, guessing some of her thoughts. "Well, if you like," he said in a falsely cheery voice, "I can try to toss you out the airlock again."
Seven half huffed a breath of amusement at the ridiculous statement. She looked at him, feeling herself crumple despite her moment of humour. His expression was so concerned and empathetic that she gave no second thought before moving to him.
"He said I was the first person not afraid to look him in the eye," she said, her voice breaking as she snuggled into Chakotay's chest.
"You always were brave." He wrapped his arms around her, surprised and yet grateful for the quick change in position. He knew he couldn't fix the situation, nor how she was feeling, but he was glad she would trust him to confide in and provide comfort.
Feeling the ring on her finger and Chakotay's warmth around her, she only felt the unfairness more. She wanted to rage, to scream, to undo all that she had done thanks to the Borg. In that moment, she would have given up even Chakotay if she could have removed all feelings of guilt. She'd tried and failed to gain redemption by saving a life. Now, she felt Iko's death and the hopes she'd raised in him regarding the appeal were all added to her unspoken debt.
Chakotay felt her shaking just a little. He moved his hand up and ran a thumb along her jaw, finding the tears were trailing down her cheeks and dripping onto his shirt. He held her tighter as the silent tears increased. She didn't full out sob. Her control was too good for that, but he knew it was the most emotion she'd shown in all the time he'd known her. He also knew it would take more than a single good cry for her to get over the trauma of such an event.
"I know you were hoping for a lot from this situation," said Chakotay after awhile. Her tears had finally slowed, but she seemed in no hurry to sit up or move away, which was fine by him. "Atonement is a tall order to fill."
She gave a little twitch, which might have been a nod.
"But did you ever consider that the only person who can give you the forgiveness you need, is you?" He smiled a little. Her face was still pressed to his chest and he could practically feel her eyes roll at his suggestion. "I'm serious. Let's pretend you tracked down every person affected by you and your actions when you were Borg. Let's say you begged their forgiveness and they all told you they were able to move on and didn't hold you accountable. Would you actually feel that weight lifted?"
Seven thought about it, truly putting effort into imagining she'd spoken with all her victims and their families. She could tell them she was sorry, that she'd never repeat her actions again, that she'd do everything in her power to atone for her actions. If they did forgive her… If they did so unequivocally… No, she could feel a twist in her stomach that gave her an immediate answer. "It would be easier if they did not forgive me. Why?"
"Because then you could continue hating yourself and have an external focus for your guilt instead of dealing with the more difficult possibility of forgiving yourself."
She shook her head a little, appreciating his insightfulness and yet amused by it. "I still can't understand how you were able to see past my previous actions."
Chakotay laughed and pressed a kiss to her hair. "Maybe I know it's easier to forgive someone else than it is to forgive yourself."
Seven looked up at him then. "How do you forgive yourself?"
He hesitated, hoping to come up with some insightful quote or moment of clarity. Nothing of use sparked in his mind and he was forced to admit his lack of answer. "I don't think you ever really do. We can just continue on, trying to be the best we can to ensure we don't make the same mistakes twice."
"That's not particularly comforting."
Chakotay smiled sadly. "No, but it's the best answer we've got. Does it help to know you're loved despite past mistakes, that I love you for who you are?"
"Yes. I love you too."