Story Notes: Episode coda to "Collective". Chakotay reflects after it's over.
 

NIGHT VISITOR

I sit, half sprawled, on the couch in my quarters, with my legs over the armrest. In my hands is a padd I have been staring at for some time. I haven't been able to really focus on it enough to read. Instead, my mind is replaying the events of the last day and a half, over and over again.

The Borg. After all the encounters we've had, you'd think I'd react differently. Wouldn't automatically assume the worst, wouldn't break out into a cold sweat just at the sight of a massive Cube looming over us. But even though we've been lucky time and time again, and have escaped relatively unscathed, a little voice in the back of my mind warns me that next time the script may have a different ending. It never pays to underestimate the enemy. Familiarity breeds contempt, they say, but we can't afford to be anything less than vigilant when it comes to an adversary as formidable as the Borg.

But we were lucky, this time. If we had to be alone and isolated on the Delta Flyer, just Paris, Kim, Neelix and myself, if we had to be taken by a Cube and wake to find ourselves in an assimilation chamber---well, we were lucky it was a "defective" Cube. Filled with 50,000 corpses, and only a handful of children to present a real threat. Only children. In some ways, more dangerous, simply because of their capricious nature and unpredictability.

We escaped relatively unscathed. Even Paris, who received a mild electrical shock for trying to disable the force-field. Even Harry, who they tried to assimilate. Now all he has to show for the experience is Borg nanoprobes coursing through his body, just like several other members of our crew. No implants or signs of an exoskeleton. Nanoprobes alone aren't such a bugbear anymore. Seven's nanoprobes, for instance, have proved invaluable in saving everything from Neelix's life to our entire ship, more times than I care to count. Having nanoprobes in one's veins isn't anything like being hooked up to a Collective, having one's thoughts and free will totally taken over and made to be subordinate to the frightening whole.

No, we were lucky, this time. I certainly fared better than the last time I was on board a heavily damaged Cube, surrounded by dead drones.

My door signal sounds, a welcome interruption. I glance at the time; it is past 0200 hours. There is only one person it can be.

She comes in, stands rather hesitantly in front of me. She is not quite in full uniform; her jacket is off, and she is wearing a T-shirt instead of the turtleneck top. Her version of casual dress. It occurs to me that I can't remember the last time I saw her in civvies. She is speaking, and I am grateful for the chance to put down the padd I'm not really reading anyway.

"I'm sorry I didn't come by Sickbay earlier, when you were still there," she says apologetically.

"It's all right. You've had a rather busy day," I answer. "Attacked by a Borg Cube, facing down rogue drones..."

"Yes, a busy day," she says, "But I still should have made it to Sickbay to check on the status of the away team."

Ah, she is here formally, after all, a captain checking up on her crew. I straighten up, and look into her eyes. "Have you been paying nocturnal visits to everyone?"

She takes the question at face value. "Ensign Paris is under the close observation and care of our Chief Engineer---"

"I'm sure they appreciated your dropping in on them, Captain," I interrupt.

She smiles. "I didn't actually see Tom, just spoke to him over the comm." She continues her litany, "Neelix is in the Mess Hall, cooking up a storm. He says it's calming for the nerves."

"If not for the crew's stomachs."

She shakes her head, but I can see her lips twitching. "And the Doctor is keeping Harry overnight for observation." She moves closer to the couch. "Which brings me to you."

"I'm fine," I say and turn away from her. I pick up the padd and stare at it once again.

She kneels down in front of me, and pulls it out of my hands. Unwillingly, I look at her. Her eyes are locked on mine, an expression of concern in them. "How are you, really?"

"I'm all right. We were lucky."

"Today. It may not always be that way," she says, echoing my earlier thoughts. "And today's events may have lasting ramifications." She doesn't elaborate, but I know she is thinking about the four occupied regeneration alcoves down in Cargo Bay 2, as well as the specially designed crib sitting in Sickbay. As if reading my thoughts, she remarks, "Sickbay is turning into a very popular destination. A lot of crewmembers have been coming by, the Doctor says, asking to hold the baby." She sighs, and now I know she is thinking about children on board Voyager.

"We did once talk about the possibility of Voyager becoming a generational ship," I remind her, "Back when Samantha Wildman announced her pregnancy."

"And in the years since then, how many other children have been born?" she asks. She knows the answer as well as I do. I bite back the reply that perhaps the crew is taking their cues from the captain.

She stands abruptly. "I didn't come here to discuss that. Not really. I wanted to know how you're doing, after being on board that Cube." She knows, probably more than anyone, how I really feel about the Borg, my fears of being linked to them once again in any capacity, and the loss of self that would entail. She knows what has been going through my mind, and I owe her an honest answer.

"While it was happening, I really didn't have time to think. I had to deal with the immediate circumstances in front of us. And Harry was missing, we had no idea what happened to him...." I draw in a deep breath.

"Fear and panic weren't a luxury you could indulge in, at the time," she says and nods.

I smile, despite myself. "I wouldn't go so far as to say I was panicking---" and then I see the corners of her mouth quirking up. "I'm all right now, Kathryn, really. Thank you for being concerned."

She turns as if to go, and then suddenly moves right next to me. To my total surprise, she plunks herself down on my lap, winds her arms around my neck and kisses me. In total shock, I don't respond at first, but she is not put off by my hesitance. She deepens the kiss, and at last I come to my senses.

We pause for breath, and I look at her, hardly able to believe what has just happened. "I don't know which is more shocking, coming so close to being assimilated, or the fact that I'm holding you in my arms now."

"Would you say it's a fair trade-off?" she asks, smiling coyly.

"That depends," I murmur, moving my lips to hers once more, "On what happens next."

The door signal sounds and I jerk awake, staring bleary-eyed at the padd on my lap. The door opens and the captain enters.

"I'm sorry I didn't come by Sickbay earlier, when you were still there," she says apologetically.
 

FINIS

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