Sickbay is inundated. My eyes search him out. There must be over 30 people in sickbay at the moment. I should be worriedly asking about the rest of the crew. I should be asking the Doctor for a status report. But, I'm anything but coherent enough to do so right now and I just want to see my husband. I need to touch him. I need to wrap my arms around him. I need to feel his heart beating against my own.
I see him. He has his back to me. He's asking Tom Paris a question. Tom looks fine. B'Elanna got here before I did and she's holding his hand. Tom and B'Elanna see me first and smile, he turns around. He looks okay. I can't see any scratches. No blood. Tears of relief burn behind my eyes. He's here. The tension in my shoulder lets up as we walk toward one another amid the hectic activity of the room. I melt into him. He holds me as I breathe in his presence. He kisses my head and his right hand moves to my belly – holding me, holding her.
"Let's get out of here," he whispers into my ear.
He takes my hand and leads me home.
/
Our doors hiss shut. I sniffle and wipe my eyes, "Let me look at you."
He doesn't try to protest and act brave for which I am grateful. He knows that I need to look at him. And the truth is that he needs to look at me too. It's been a long day. We're emotionally exhausted.
We're standing close to one another, but he still moves closer. Now he's as close as she'll allow. I move my hands against his chest to cradle his face. He smiles weakly at me.
"I was so scared today, Kathryn."
"Me too."
It's obvious what he's going to say, but I still need to hear it.
"I was afraid I'd never see you again. I thought about you all day. When we'd exhausted all escape routes and the only thing that I thought of was you."
I look down.
"I almost did it, Chakotay. I almost used a biological weapon on those kids to save you."
"But you didn't".
"No. But I came damn close."
He says nothing. He just kisses my forehead. We stay like that for a few more minutes, soaking each other in.
"Chakotay"
"mmm"
"Shower?"
"huh?"
"You smell like that Borg ship".
He laughs softly and nods his head.
/
We don't need to make love. We're too tired for that. But we both feel the need to be with the other. Steam fills the room. He removes my top as I do his, then trousers, then underwear. I feel big, cumbersome and unbalanced. The hot water soothes us. It pelts against my ankles, soothing some of the oedema away.
I can't stop touching him. I've seen him at least a thousand times now. I've memorized every inch of his skin. I move in close and kiss his scars. There's one on his chest, a cut from a Cardassian knife. There's another on his left bicep – a childhood injury. He told me the story once, but I don't remember it. I move lower to the largest one on his thigh – a part of a bulkhead fell on him and he had to crawl out from under it while the Liberty was under attack. These scars make up the man I love. But there are also the other scars that I can't see. Today, we added to those scars. I'd do anything to take them away. I'd do anything to take away his hurt. I don't want to add to his burdens but sometimes that can't be helped. We scar the people we love simply by loving them and being loved by them. Scars are unavoidable. But I'm reminded that things are not so bleak as I am roused by a kick. I stand into him again and take his hands, bringing them around my abdomen. He smiles in wonder. This isn't the first time that he's felt her move, but by his reaction you'd never be able to tell.
/
A second orgasm rips through my body, taking me completely by surprise as his finds his own satisfaction. I cry out and I release the hands that have been holding mine for the past half an hour. I sag against his chest, breathing heavily, "good morning". He smiles against my shoulder. He's panting, "now there's a way to wake up". I feel him soften and slip away, but I'm loath to let him go soon. I used to be able to lie flat against him, but the little one has insinuated herself too much. So I lie against him with my stomach propped against his.
I often find that some of our best conversations happen in bed after we make love.
"What are we going to do about her?"
He's momentarily confused, "Who?"
"The baby."
"Our baby?"
"No. The Borg baby."
He briefly saw her yesterday before we left.
I continue, "we can't give her to Seven – she's still a child herself and now she had four more children to look after."
"Kathryn, what are you suggesting?"
I prop myself up on my elbow so that I can look at him. He reaches up and brushes an errant auburn strand from my face, "No."
"'No' what?"
"No we're not taking her in".
How did he know that's what I was hinting at? "Why not?"
His hand moves across my breast to my belly. "Kathryn, it's too much."
"No really, Chakotay – why not? It'll be good practice and she doesn't have anyone. She's alone".
"Kathryn, we don't know anything about this baby. We don't know how it's going to mature. We don't know if it's programmed to be a fully functional Borg… we don't know anything. Add to that, we already have a little one of our own coming in a just a few weeks!"
"I know. It's a big unknown. And I know, I'm asking a lot…. But I just can't get her out of my head. Yesterday when the Doctor put me in her arms and she stopped crying – I don't know, I just... She felt like she belonged to me. That's crazy. That's crazy. I know. What am I even sayin-" he shushed my mental meandering with a kiss.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"We'll talk to the Doctor today. We'll see if he can remove the implants just like he's doing with the children – just like he did with Seven." He smiled, "I'm not going to say no. Let's just see how it goes, OK?"
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" And I mean it, what did I do?
He kisses me again, "you don't do anything to deserve love, Kathryn. I love you because I can't help it. Loving you is a vital part of who I am. Loving you is like breathing. Loving you brings me peace."