Chapter Twenty-One
His overwhelming feeling was that he should not have let her go. But that, of course, would have necessitated him having some choice in the matter.
He could only imagine the cruelest of scenarios, the one in which he lost her, only moments after finding her again. She might have survived confrontations with the Borg in the past, but playing with this type of luck was unquestionably foolish. Was it the daredevil in her that he so loved, or was it only the fact that she was willing, at all costs, to follow her guiding principles? If she died, could he ever forgive her for following them?
Instead of pondering these questions he tried desperately to remain in some fantasy in which they had been together ever since their time on New Earth – that they had spent seven years together aboard Voyager, not as colleagues or friends or occasional enemies, but as lovers. If he had shared her bed every night since then, if he had been her shoulder to lean on throughout that journey, would it be any easier to let her go now? Perhaps he would have been more patient with the universe, or perhaps he would have been angrier still.
"Please promise me that you'll never leave me."
The journey back to Earth was turbulent, and he could see long before he reached his destination that there was a storm rising. He imagined that he would dock at Alpha Walker, the safe ground of the Cassandras, and make his way back to the planet when he could judge that Starfleet was sufficiently occupied as not to be aware of his movements. But these best-laid plans were abruptly ended – before he could make his move toward Alpha Walker he was intercepted by a Starfleet issue shuttlecraft.
"Disarm your vessel and stand down."