"If I keep my eyes closed, he looks just like you.
But, he'll never stay. They never do.
If I keep my eyes closed, he feels just like you.
But you've been replaced. I'm face to face with someone new."

-Eyes Closed, Halsey

"Computer, display Fair Haven character Michael Sullivan," Kathryn Janeway heard herself say as she stared at the bare, silver-colored framework of the inactive holodeck. Meanwhile, her mind argued with itself.

What are you doing, Kathryn? What's the matter with you?

I'm goddamn horny, that's what's the matter with me. I deserve a fucking break, to feel like a human being. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

But what would he think if he found out?

Forget him. It's over. Move on.

With a hologram?

Well, who the hell else is there?

Even as Kathryn examined the hologram displayed lifelessly in front of her, as if he were a painting or a sculpture she had created in the maestro's workroom, her mind refused to put that darkly handsome first officer out of her head.

"Adjust his parameters to the following specifications. Give him the education of a nineteenth century third year student at Trinity College."

"Modification complete," the smooth voice of the computer obediently responded.

"Now, access the character's interactive subroutines. Make him more—" Kathryn flicked her tongue out slightly, wetting her bottom lip, and followed it with a scrape of her teeth over the soft flesh "—provocative."

"Specify."

"Give him a more complicated personality."

"Specify."

She breathed an irritated sigh. How do I put words to it?

Then, a memory came, unbidden, into her mind.

Tired of his incessant preaching, Kathryn cut firmly into the heart of their conflict. "Do you trust me, Chakotay?"

"That isn't the issue." He was deflecting. Or, he was in denial.

"Oh, but it is," Kathryn murmured, her voice grinding over her tongue like a whetstone on a blade. "Only yesterday you were saying that we'd face this together, that you'd be at my side."

"I still have to tell you what I believe. I'm no good to you if I don't do that." He was being insincere. Definitely deflecting. He needed to learn how to tamp down his personal feelings like she did.

"I appreciate your insights, but the time for debate is over. I've made my decision. Now, do I have your support?" Her foot was firmly on the ground, so to speak, and she waited to see what he would do next.

Chakotay was clearly very unhappy. No, it was more than that. He was livid. Kathryn was sure, for the entirety of a silent moment between them, that he would reject her decision and pull her foot right out from under her. She knew he wanted to; it was written all over his face.

The thought was provocative.

But instead, he demurred. "You're the captain. I'm the first officer. I'll follow your orders. That doesn't change my belief that we're making a fatal mistake."

Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she commanded them back. He neither stood up to her, nor stood with her. He had abandoned her entirely, washing his hands of her decision.

Suddenly, Kathryn felt a deep and cutting anger run through her like a sword. How dare he make her feel bad for refusing to comprise her duty to the crew? Well, fuck him, she told herself. Except that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? She had fucked him—made love to him—on that lonely planet they were stranded on a year before, and then everything became personal.

She swallowed hard, choking back a sob. "Then I guess I am alone, after all."

Like a coward, he said nothing as she dismissed him from the room.

Kathryn shook her head, flinging the memory away from her like raindrops cast from the ends of her not-quite shoulder length hair. This was Michael Sullivan, not Chakotay. What did she want from Michael Sullivan? "More outspoken, more confident, not so reserved. And make him more curious about the world around him."

"Modification complete."

"Good. Now, increase the character's height by—"

Stepping decisively into the Maquis commander's personal space, Kathryn looked up and fixed him with the very same glare that her younger sister had once told her could wilt flowers. "You are speaking to a member of my crew. I expect you to treat him with the same respect as you would have me treat a member of yours."

"—three centimeters," she decided. At her command, the darkly handsome hologram grew taller. "Remove the facial hair."

Kathryn dragged her fingertips along the rough shadow of growth on Chakotay's strong jaw. His intense eyes never left hers as they moved together from the place where they were united. They were a beast with two backs, destined to live out the rest of their days with no one but each other.

She cringed at the clean-shaven face before her. "No, no, I don't like that. Put some back. About two days' growth." After the modification was made, Kathryn smiled, appraising her work. It—he—was perfect.

Suddenly, she remembered the main reason why she had come. "One more thing," she said to the operating system. "Access his interpersonal subroutines. Familial characters."

Then, Kathryn's voice became cold and hard, like ice.

"Delete the wife."