~~C~~

The conference room is one closed of tension as we stand around, debating in it. Her voice is hard, determined, laced with revelation.

"The obelisk at Khitomer? The fields of Gettysburg? Those are other peoples' memories too, but we don't honor them any less. The eighty-two colonists who died here…they deserve their memorial."

She can't be serious. "Captain," I start. Think about this. Really think about it.

"We're not going to shut down the transmitter. Is that clear?" We gape at her. "Is that clear?"

"Are you suggesting we leave it intact?" Tuvok asks to clarify her point. His dubious voice indicates that, for once, he actually sides with me here.

Shit, Kathryn. Not even the Vulcan agrees with you. Let it go.

"I'm suggesting that we repair it. Recharge the power cells. I want that monument to function properly for another three hundred years. We'll place a warning buoy in orbit. Anyone who enters this system will know what to expect. Dismissed."

It should be easier to support her on this. To stand by her side. But too much has happened, too many things have come between us to make unwavering support of her every decision as easy as I found it in the last few years. That's not to say I won't do it, though, and I know damn well, even now, that I will.

What she's proposing is something I don't agree with. We're still raw, still hurting. I thought I'd killed people again, this time for a completely misplaced cause, for spirits' sake. I lived with that tormenting knowledge for weeks!

Her ideals are what get in her way sometimes. In the way of rationality, common sense, and to me this is just plain wrong. No one should have to go through what we did these past few weeks, her included.

I could go to her now, kick up dust and dirt and hellfire, start an argument to end all arguments: that's the way we fight. But the fact of the matter is that she needs to do this for whatever reason, and the argument in this case will only end one way. Badly.

I thought supporting the holographic tryst with that ridiculous barkeep would open her to the idea of taking a risk, help her re-channel that cause-bound energy. That part of her, that drive…the dedication to a self-righteous cause…it's so hard to shake out of her once it sets into her. If nothing else, the Borg, and recently, the Equinox, proved that.

I thought maybe she would realize through the hologram that we might make something work. I was wrong. It's only pulling her away from me, making our relationship that much more strained. I almost scoff. Our non-existent relationship, that should be. We don't have one because she can't handle it.

Maybe I can't handle it either, Kathryn. Maybe I'm human, and I make mistakes. Do you have to keep punishing me for them?

I shake myself. Grit my teeth. None of this has any bearing on the limits of what I can and cannot do to comfort her, to dissuade her from making this another one of her projected causes. The bitter thoughts come from sheer frustration, at the limitations of what I can be to her, and the dawning self-knowledge that I couldn't handle it any better than she thinks she can. It's hard enough to handle as it is.

She's going to do this, whether I want her to or not. The harder I fight her, the worse it's going to get. It's not the first time though. It's just getting harder to maintain hope for us.

We stand on the field, pristine landscaping untouched by humanoid hands in centuries surrounding us. It feels like we're standing in a graveyard, desecrating it as we prepare to do something I don't believe in, but for her, I keep my mouth shut. For her, I do so many things I'd never do for anyone else. Anything so she can have peace of mind within herself – I know how little of it she finds when she lies in bed alone, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. At alien stars streaking by in the viewport.

I take a breath. "We're ready, Captain."

"I know this was hardest on the four of you, but if you hadn't stopped at this planet all the people who died here would have been forgotten, and if they could, I know they'd thank you," she assures us. I wonder if she even hears herself right now. Her eyes burn bright with self-justification, with self-satisfaction that she's in the right.

None of us argue. Not anymore. I wonder sometimes if they do it for the same reasons. They know her almost as well as I do. Almost.

"Janeway to Voyager. Stand by to initiate power transfer."

We stand, watch mutely as her will is carried out. As the monument from hell is properly powered. Once she's satisfied we've had enough time to reflect on the gravity of our actions, of the cause, she gives the order to return.

"Five to beam up."

We leave as we'd beamed down: in a silent circle of purpose. Her purpose, and one I'm not sure was necessary this time.

Sometimes, it's just so hard. I wish it was easier, but it is what it needs to be. Most days, I can even admit it lately.

~~J~~

"Remember when I said I didn't have any objections?"

I sigh inwardly, keep walking. If I stop, I may back out of this, and it's too good an opportunity to cripple the Borg to pass up. It's my duty, and he'll have to understand that. Frankly, given all the tension between us lately, I should probably be grateful he's still going through the motions at all. It hasn't been an easy six months.

Hell. It hasn't been an easy six years. But Unimatrix Zero is our best shot.

"Can't this wait till I get back?" I ask out of habit more than hope.

"I realize I'm not going to talk you out of this, but I'll be damned if you're going in there alone."

Chakotay, don't. I thought we grew out of this. Let me do this by myself, minimize the risk to the rest of you. "We've got a lot of work to do, Commander–"

"You said you wanted my support."

I need it. He knows that.

"Then take Tuvok and B'Elanna with you."

Remember when your support came without any strings attached? Before you knew me better than I know myself? Remember when I didn't have to give myself over to holograms, fall in hollow love with them to keep myself on the straight and narrow, and away from beds I can't afford to fall into?

"And if I don't?" I ask, already beaten by precedent. I know what I am to him. I may not be able to acknowledge it, but I do know it's easiest to give in. It's his chance to back down, though. To get out of this having done his duty. When he doesn't, it tells me everything I need to know about what still lies beneath the tension we're combating between us lately.

"I may only be first officer," ouch, Commander, "but I still pull a few strings around here. The doctor could be persuaded to question your medical fitness."

It should shock me, but it's a threat he's used once or twice before. And given the hag that smug field of photons can be, he'd jump at the chance to support Chakotay, and I know it.

"I was hoping for your unconditional support," I drawl. I was hoping you wouldn't ask me to risk the lives of our people as well, just to increase the chances that I'll come back to you.

It would be easier if we just let hopes for a hypothetical future die.

"This is the best I can do." He's all smiles, just like me. We're in a public corridor, after all.

But that's not to suggest he isn't fully prepared to do as he threatened because he does not make idle threats. I can fight him, kick up dust and dirt and hellfire, waste time we don't have, but the fact of the matter is that this has a better chance of success with their particular skills backing me up.

It's not entirely why he's asking me to do this, and I know that. It's going to be far from easy for him to watch me walk away from him, from Voyager, and to know what I'm knowingly walking right into to boot.

Despite what the anger flashing in his eyes indicates he sometimes believes to the contrary, I've never deliberately caused him pain. Nor hurt him. If this increases the chances of our success, it's the right move in spite of my inclinations. In addition, if it still fails and we don't come back, he will be able to tell himself that he did everything he reasonably could to make sure that I did. It'll hurt him less.

I sigh inwardly. The lives, the individuality of B'Elanna and Tuvok on my immediate shoulders will only make me that much more determined to succeed over there and – damn him, he knows that too.

He knows me. And he makes it easier to acquiesce without losing face, to decrease the chances of hurting him, and I l–

"Tell them to pack light," I say.

The queen taunts us, tries to bargain with us. It's confirmation that we've got a real chance to do some damage to her, and it bolsters my decision to go. Yet all too soon, it's time to leave.

"Torres to Bridge."

This is it. "Go ahead," I say.

"The Delta Flyer is ready for launch."

"On my way." I turn to him. It's better that we do this on the bridge. Makes it so much easier. "Guess I'd better be going, huh?"

"Anything you'd like done around here while you're gone? Gravity plating recalibrated, carpets cleaned?"

A carving of some animal so badly constructed it'll look like Mezotti made it – or maybe just a silver mirror left on your pillow? I hear it all, though he doesn't say it.

His face is the one I want to take with me. Just in case. It would be easy to reach over, to trace the lines of ink across his brow, a path my fingertips know by heart though they've never traced it. Instead, I smile. Hold out my hand for him to press his over it, just for a moment. It's a weight and texture so familiar and it's comforting. "Surprise me," I tell him. "You have the bridge."

And so much more. I'm sorry it has to be this hard, Chakotay. But any other way, and it would be impossible. Surely you see that by now?

I head for the turbolift without looking back at him. Much.

~~JC~~