5. Kathryn Janeway's POV

We've reached an impasse.

Mark was made to sit down on a kitchenchair after the seat and elbow-rests had been covered with Chakotays strong glue, meant for making furniture. They must have found it in the cupboard under the stairs.

Regardless, Mark is immobilized and could become a liability; he talks too much and the skeleton might see through the ruse of my being the wife he had come looking for. It´s vital he remains under that impression for if he is to find I'm not her, he'll know Marks actual wife is around somewhere.

When Mark had been making a convenient hassle at the door I had stumbled upon something unexpected in the fireplace; Holly's feet. Chakotay had designed the chimney himself which accounted for it being unusually large. Still, Holly isn't going to be able to remain there for long. She has to awkwardly stand on a stone ridge to keep her feet from showing.

How Marks wife had become stranded in my chimney was still a mystery to me. None the less, I was glad she was there for she might be our only chance of a rescue. I just need to create a window of opportunity for her to sneak out and get help. The skeleton and his Klingon minions need to step out. I could invoke an argument so they have something to quarrel over. Then again, picking a fight with two angry Klingons might not be the best idea either.

The Skeleton had put me on a chair opposite from Mark, hand still cuffed to the grill. One of the Klingons leans dangerously against the fireplace, the other had taken position behind the misplaced sofa.

Now that the intensity of the situation had somewhat toned down I'm free to experience the nostalgia the man in front of me represents. He has less effect on me than I would have anticipated. I remember my anxiety at lending Chakotay my copy of 'Inferno'. Mark had given it to me and it was of great value. It had however catalysed a playful persuit on Chakotays part, one I hadn't been prepared for.

"La Vita Nuova?" I ask in surprise. "It's from the same writer," he says "Dante? I figured it a safe gift seeing you liked his 'Inferno'". I free the book of its fabric wrapping "The New Life, huh? I don't suppose this has something to do with my near death experience during our away mission?" I look at him mischieviously as he tugs his ear. "You do realise this isn't actually about new life but rather the anguish of love?" He smiled and shook his head in defeat as if I had played a prank he hadn't seen coming. "Is that so?" He asks. "Hmm-mm," I confirm "...the girl dies..." His eyes flicker to mine in an attempt to make contact and check the possible damage his gift has done. Relieved to find he's being teased he replies "Well, that's not good." He gently frees the book from my hands. "I'll have to come up with a more cheerful gift then. Got a favorite flower, captain?" I lean in close to reach for the book. "Oh, but I'll have that book." He moves back as if unwilling to hand it over but gives in as he realises the turbolift comes to a halt. "Well?" He asks as we step onto the bridge. I feel cornered. He wants to give me flowers? I can't go along with this. "Wouldn't that be the day" I joke.

The rose he gave me later that afternoon still adorns the hallway.

"Are you comfortable?" The Skeleton asks.

"Thank you. Yes." Being civil may counter his objectifying me. It could remind him of my humanity.

"Will you cancel the reforms?" The skeleton leans, hands on his knees, and holds his face right next to mine.

"I told you the truth, I can't cancel them. Now that the vote has taken place it's no longer Starfleets decision, let alone mine." As is common to man, one thinks most explicitly of a thing when he tries hardest not to think of it. I am fully aware of how to undo the laws that are currently in the making since it was only this morning that I expressed the conditions to which Kronos is to abide. Staging Chancellor Mo´Ros hadn´t honoured them wouldn´t be difficult for he enjoyed but little trust among Federation officials.

"I'm sorry." I add.

"What do you think, Mark, is she full of it?" I see Mark curling down the corners of his mouth and hastily shaking his head.

"In the end, everyone talks." The skeleton says conclusively. "Might as well start now that your reflection is yet unchanged."

He pauses, thinking. He steps over to Mark and also bends down next to him. "You won't recognise her once we're done with her. You want an ugly wife?" I can see Marks larynx take a deep dive as he swallows. "Et alors?" He spits sharply. "Tell her you don't want her to be a hero." Every word is precisely pronounced and laced with the heavily French articulation.

"Kathryn, don't be a hero." Mark immediately complies. "Why don't you try to reach members of the Council. You could talk to them, right? No one can blame you -nor will a judge." His inquisitive look is filled with honest confusion.

"We'll sort it out later." he adds in a hushed tone as if he were confiding in me alone and no one was there to overhear us.

The skeleton moves to stand behind Mark and lets his hands rest on his shoulders. He pleads his case through Mark.

"I cannot talk anyone out of this." I say.

Mark has always preferred theoretical experiments of the mind over practicality. He is a man of reason and being the philosopher that he is, he sees dialogue in the form of debate as the ultimate way to apply and cultivate knowledge. I doubt if he has ever been in a crisis situation like this.

"Isn't all governmental policy constantly monitored? It's designed to be flexible, right?" Mark tries carefully. "Surely it can be altered by someone?" His speech is unsure, he's obviously affraid to offer ideas since he has no clue of what's at stake.

"Not by me it can't." I say knowing it would leave Mark defeated.

"Perhaps you just need some practice in compliance, admiral." The last word is said with all the contempt the French voice could muster. With a snap of his fingers he gives the Klingons their long awaited clue, almost as if he possessed Q's omnipotence. The one on the sofa pipes up quickly and takes a swing at me so hard the chair falls sideways.

I hit my head against the plastered chimney and feel the rough surface scrape my skin. "HEY! ... STOP IT!" I hear Mark yelling. My body once again weighs down on my right hand but the strong hand that cast me down to the floor pulls me back up and sits me down again. My face feels stiffened. I move my mouth and countless facial muscles to explore the severity of my bruised face. I feel tiny grains of plaster on my badly scafed skin. The taste of blood fills my palet. A result of the punch no doubt. Checking if my teeth are undamaged I let my tongue explore and find an upper tooth chipped.

"Real brave, the three of you against one chained woman, you feel like real men now?!" Mark isn't up to this. "..fuck.." He adds under his breath. "Kath? Can you speak?" he had reddened and his eyes look drained of hope. He had always felt protective of me. He's panicking.

"Chakotay will be here soon. Don't worry." It's an obvious bluff but I wonder if Mark is still sharp enough to bear with me. Beads of sweat form on his forehead and his eyes flicker from person to person. "Who?" He says under his breaths. "Oh, Chakatay, right,...good."

I sigh in defeat and our assailants laugh at his silly mistake.

The throbbing in my face has already accumulated into an agonizing headache. "Untill he does though, these men have some questions to...loosen you up a bit." The bald panther leaves us to the mercy of his companions as I hear him stamp up the stairs.

The Klingon who had hit me drags a decorated blanketchest into my proximity, sits down on it, and holds his ridged face next to mine like the skeleton had before. The delicately decorated chest had been an anniversary gift and for it to be used in this way felt unfair and unjust.

"Oh come on." Mark sobbed "..what are you doing now?" I try to keep Marks eyes on me but he is bewildered en distracted.

"Think of the one thing you don't want him to know," The Klingons long, glorious hair waves lightly in response to a sharp nod in Marks direction "...admiral Kathryn from the House of Janeway."

"..you will have screamed it by the time the sun rises."