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Rating: G

When Chakotay stepped into the Ready Room, he found Janeway sitting on her couch. Everything in her stance spoke of the sheer burden she was carrying. Although she had called him in, instead of acknowledging his presence she kept staring into space, so he left the Doctor's report on her desk and sat down next to her on the couch. It was only when he lightly touched her knee that she acknowledged him and turned slightly.

"Captain, are you alright?"

"Do you believe in scientific inevitability, Chakotay?" Her eyes were bright as she looked directly at him.

"In what?" Chakotay shook his head, thinking he might not have heard her correctly.

"Scientific inevitability," she said, then added when he was still looking confused, "You know, that defense scientists have used throughout history. If I hadn't made the discovery, someone else would have."

Chakotay just nodded, having heard that somewhere, maybe not related to science, though.

"Dr. Jetrel said it earlier. It was inevitable that the Metreon Cascade was developed and if he had not done it, someone else would have. It's the nature of science, apparently." She rolled her eyes and made a dismissive gesture with her hand.

She seemed so defeated. The way her shoulders slumped as she said the last words and how she just turned back to looking out the window, made Chakotay wish he could find any words to make it easier for her.

"Do you think he really wanted to undo some of his atrocities?" Chakotay asked, not quite sure what to think of Dr. Jetrel, even now that he was dead.

"Yes," Kathryn sighed, "he seemed genuine about that at least."

"He didn't seem to regret his actions though." Chakotay argued.

"No, and he said as much." Kathryn turned back to Chakotay now, "He stood behind his decision even though he was hiding behind science. But it's easy to judge people in hindsight or from the outside."

Chakotay nodded in agreement. He knew just too well, that people could do all kinds of terrible things because they believed they were doing the right thing at the time. He had his fair share of mistakes on his own conscience. Sensing this was going to turn into a long conversation, he rose to get coffee and tea for the two of them before returning to her side on the couch.

She gave him a thankful smile and took a careful sip of the hot beverage before she continued.

"This is what war makes people do, isn't it?" It was a rhetorical question and Chakotay knew better than to answer, understanding that she needed to get this off her chest. "It turns them into monsters in order to protect their people."

Chakotay wondered what she had experienced that made her understand the true cruelty of war so well. He put his cup down on the coffee table and took her hand to encourage her to keep going and offer support.

"If we ever find ourselves facing such a choice, Chakotay, and you find me doing the terrible thing because I feel that I have no other choice," she hesitated a moment and looked at him with a more serious expression than he had ever seen on her face in private, "will you promise to try and keep me from making the wrong choice? If I cross the line and turn into someone like Dr. Jetrel, will you tell me? Can you remind me that there's another way?"

"What if there's no other way?"

"There's always another way, if you look hard enough." She sighed and looked at his hand, grasping hers, his thumb gently tracing her knuckles. She didn't want to let go and lose the contact, and it felt good, so she just let it be as she continued her thoughts. "All science can be used for good and evil, but there should be limits. It's so easy to forget one's responsibilities in the face of great discoveries. Or to lose sight of the consequences when you keep telling yourself you're doing something for the greater good. I can understand Dr. Jetrel's motivation of trying to undo the damage he has caused."

Even though Kathryn didn't look up but kept her gaze glued to their joined hands, Chakotay knew that she was talking about more than just science now. They had been out here for half a year, with no shortcut home anywhere in sight, and he knew she still felt guilty about stranding them here. They had talked about this before, and at times she was alright with justifying her decision to put the lives of the Ocampa before her crew. At other times, though, the guilt was eating away at her and she would argue that in due time when the Ocampa had to come to the surface, the crew's sacrifice would be for nothing anyway.

"I know I've said this before," Chakotay argued, squeezing her hand, "and I'll say it again. It's not your fault."

"Like hell it isn't," she exclaimed and rolled her eyes, having heard this so many times before.

"There was no choice." Chakotay was not ready to back down from this. "You couldn't condemn an entire race to fall victim to the Kazon, and you know it. There was no other choice than the one you made and we all know it."

"There's always a choice." Her voice sounded disheartened and tired, making Chakotay wish he could put her mind at rest. "I took the choice from everyone."

She looked at him and he saw her eyes glistening with tears that she refused to shed. He knew from experience that she wouldn't let this go. This guilt was hers and she nourished it like a baby. It was hers and she refused to give it up or share. Nothing he or anyone could say would deter her from that. He would repeat his mantra to her that it was not her fault, that no one blamed her, even though he knew it didn't change anything. He did it anyway.

"Well," he quietly said, tilting his head to the side, "I forgive you."

He saw a tear escape her eye and lifted his free hand to gently wipe it from her cheek. Without releasing her hold on his other hand, she leaned her face into his hand and closed her eyes for a second. His words didn't make it any better, but his touch was soothing. She knew he didn't blame her, and although it didn't take away any of the guilt she felt it was comforting to know that he was so steadfast in his trust in her. She knew she should let go of his hand and move away from his touch, but he felt warm and safe. His serene demeanour was a balm for her battered ego and mind.

This was Chakotay, her friend, not her First Officer. And at the moment she needed a friend more than she needed an advisor.

Today she needed her friend.

They could be objective tomorrow.