The Opportunity to Be Fully Human

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager, its characters, etc. belong to Paramount.

Author's Note: When I originally began the piece "To Feel So Much," I was actually planning on writing it from Janeway's point of view, exploring the ramifications of being assimilated by the Borg. But the characters just kind of ran away from me, intent on telling their own story :) However, I couldn't get away from wanting to explore Janeway's perspective of the events so I decided to try this companion piece from her POV. Please let me know what you think! (I don't want to repeat myself from the first story and bore anyone!)

**If you haven't read "To Feel So Much," please read it first or some of the references won't make as much sense**

Chapter 1

Kathryn woke up in Sickbay to the sound of Chakotay sobbing. He was slumped in a chair at her bedside, head cradled in his hands. She just watched him for a moment, struggling through the haze of sleep and fatigue that seemed to be enveloping her brain. She knew it would hurt to move, hurt even to talk—but just watching him cry would be even more painful.

"Chakotay," she called softly. He seemed oblivious to her words so she said his name a second time. He picked his head up, staring at her with a mixture of horror, anguish, and guilt.

"Kathryn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." He made no attempt to conceal his sorrow, and she understood at once that he was only apologizing for disturbing her. Her heart ached as she saw the desperation in his eyes, and she followed her instincts before she even fully realized what she was saying.

"Chakotay, come here." She held her arms out to him. He hesitated, and she knew why. This wasn't like her, reaching out to hold him.

"Please." The word tore from her lips before she could stop herself. She knew he needed to be held, needed to be comforted. And so—she now understood—did she. After another brief pause, he dragged his chair closer and made his way towards her arms. She pulled his head down to her chest, cradling him against her the way you would a distraught child. At first, he rested against her only tentatively, but as her arms tightened around him and her fingers moved through his hair, he relaxed into her grip, and she felt him shaking with sobs.

Kathryn closed her eyes, relishing the feel of him in her arms. It should have seemed unusual that she was even contemplating her own pleasure in the face of his obvious despair, but it made perfect sense to her. She had been assimilated by the Borg. Although the Doctor had counteracted many of the effects beforehand, she had still been a drone, a half-machine.

Empty.

Without feeling.

Yes, she had definitely been herself in Unimatrix Zero. She had definitely been herself with the Borg Queen.

But for those quiet moments in between, she had been Borg. The thought still frightened her, gnawing at her conscience and leaving her wondering what really made one human. Feelings, she reminded herself now as she continued to stroke Chakotay's hair. Love. The way she loved the man who was cradled in her arms.

She vowed to herself that she would never push her feelings away again. She vowed to herself that from that moment on, she would never again give up the opportunity to be fully human.

To feel.

Kathryn looked down at the man she was holding, her eyes tracing the angles of his face, the chiseled features she knew in her sleep. Watching the tears sliding in wayward paths down his cheeks, noting the angles and curves of the tattoo that graced his temple. Her exploring fingers gravitated towards its flowing lines, committing them to the memory of her touch, delineating to herself the path she would follow from this day forward.

She heard him moan deep in his throat, felt his emotions welling up in her. She knew it had been hard for him when she had walked off the bridge that day; she had seen it in his eyes, felt it in the trembling of his fingers when she had taken his hand.

Heard it in his voice when he had stood in front of her in the Ready Room and begged her not to go.

Kathryn, please. Please don't do this.

Chakotay, I have to. Think about all those people we can help. Think of what it will mean to them, to their lives, their futures.

What about your life? Your future?

I'll be back. I promise, Chakotay.

Don't make promises you can't keep, Kathryn.

He had turned and started to walk away, but for once, she had gone after him, stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

I'll be back.

Her words had been fierce as had the kiss she had suddenly pressed against his lips. He had gasped, his eyes wide and full of tears. And she had known in that moment that no matter what she was promising, what she was really saying to him was goodbye.

And, of course, she realized belatedly, he knew it as well. Knew her as well as anyone ever had.

Kathryn struggled to suppress the sobs that were now threatening to escape her constricted throat.

"It's okay," she murmured, gently caressing his lips with trembling fingertips. "I'm right here. I'm fine."

She should have known it was the wrong thing to say to him, to this man who loved her fiercely, fully, unconditionally. She should have known that even this man couldn't swallow her saying "I'm fine" one more time—not after what she had just been through. She wasn't fine. And neither was he.

He broke.

Yelled at her.

Cried.

And then ran out, leaving her in the extreme silence of a deserted Sickbay in the middle of the night where the only thing she could hear was his final words echoing in endless, taunting chorus. Perhaps her theme song for the whole experience.

I hate you for doing this to me, Kathryn.

I know, she thought.

"I know," she said.

I do, too.