Star Trek Voyager: The Gift

Star Trek Voyager: The Gift 34. Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Yes, I know he’s never going to leave me… Seven breathed a choked sigh as her answer to Chakotay’s words ran through her mind again, but yet, as resolute as her belief in him was, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words to him, even as she continued to lie slumped over his knees. Chakotay must’ve heard her struggling breaths as his hand moved over her back again, trying to soothe her, but in fact his warm, living touch, unthinkingly given, pained her almost as much as indifference would have. Yes, she knew he cared for her welfare, would protect and shelter her, but he couldn’t promise what he’d just said. Hadn’t he tried to leave her alone once? It had been her who’d followed him to the Maquis, against his wishes. She didn’t wholly regret that choice, it had seemed the only one open to her at the time and Kolopak’s death had given her a need for retribution and justice just when that had become Chakotay’s sole purpose in life. Still, the events of the past few hours and days had shaken her to the core, and she realised now that the vileness of the Cardassians, the fate of the colonies and the intrigues of the Federation were utterly irrelevant to her if Chakotay was dead. This revelation was the one which froze her tongue, for if she truly believed that he’d never leave her, whatever happened or what she did, she’d cry into his lap, beg and plead for him to abandon this futile fight and go and find peace with her somewhere. She wouldn’t though; it was a fantasy that he’d leave the Maquis at her will. If she broke her commitment to it he’d reject her for certain. She should have stopped him going down the road of revenge, but instead she’d joined him on it, the Maquis was his life now and it was pointless to wish otherwise.

So, she forced her head up from his bed and instead propped herself on her elbows with a resigned sigh as she tried to hide her tear stained cheeks with her hands. A shaky smile of relief flickered across Chakotay’s face as he saw her recover, but somehow seeing her regain some of her Borg stoicism so soon after a breakdown by her standards unsettled him. Sometimes her ability to bounce back so quickly after trauma disturbed him, it dehumanised her. “Feeling better?” he asked softly.

Seven’s oddly glinting blue eyes shot him a questioning look. “I was not injured in the plasma storm.” She told him stiffly, although he heard the tiniest sniff in her voice that made him belatedly recognise the unshed tears in her eyes with a painful jolt.

“I’m glad about that honey.” He murmured sincerely as he took her chin in his good hand to turn her face towards his and give her a pointed look, absently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear for her as he did so, “But you know I didn’t mean physically.” He saw fear flash through her pale eyes and withdrew from her, hurt. “Talk to me Seven.” He asked firmly.

Her gaze wavered, the colour draining from her face until the faint paths of the few tears she hadn’t been able to hold back were starkly obvious on her skin. “Chakotay, I…”

Seska, who had been watching the latter half of this exchange completely, almost rudely, unnoticed, decided now was the moment she had to interrupt and rapped loudly on the door. “Chakotay?” She called loudly.

Seven jerked as if Seska had shot a bullet at her, immediately bolting upright and keeping her eyes downcast, dread filling her as she remembered the Bajoran’s accusations. “I apologise, I will leave…”

Seska’s lips twitched in a way that clearly showed she didn’t accept the apology. In face her nose turned up slightly as she replied coldly, “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”