Part I: Breathe

The transporters had found them. After ten days.

The first day, she'd wanted to kill him. Away missions with Tom involved always spelled trouble.

The third, she'd wrecked her room. They'd found the shuttle. They'd found blood.

The fifth, she had prayed. They'd been told they were dead.

The seventh, Harry had found them. Chakotay had sat on her bed and touched her shoulder.

The tenth, they brought them home.

B'Elanna was there, waiting patiently in the transporter room, when they beamed them in.

Chakotay couldn't convince her to stay away, meet them in Sickbay. She knelt by his body, touching his face, trying to breathe. His skin was cold beneath her fingers, and the bruises covered so much of his skin--his uniform was gone, whatever they had given him to wear was bloody rags--

Somewhere far away, she heard Chakotay kneel beside the Captain, saying something, hearing the Captain's hoarse reply. Someone was running a tricorder over Tom, saying something to her that she listened to as the injuries were listed in a flat voice of shock. She didn't speak, knowing that if she did she would scream, rage--and that's not what he needed.

"...emergency beam-out to Sickbay..."

She wasn't sure who said it, who in the name of Kahless hadn't had them beamed to Sickbay immediately, but she took his hand in hers, the only thing that looked relatively safe to touch. She looked at the glazed blue eyes, half open. Unseeing.

They'd burned out his optical nerves. She knew that much.

"I'm here, Tom," she whispered. She lifted his hand to her cheek, blood smearing across her face and fingers, not really caring. Stroking his skin with hers. "Everything will be okay now, Tom. We got you home."

He didn't answer. Blood dripped sluggishly from the corner of his mouth, curving down his chin, pudding on the floor. The knee of her uniform was becoming damp and sticky. He wasn't breathing. She choked, leaning closer. Her breath was against his lips. Slightly parted lips, and she saw what they had done to his teeth.

"You're home, Tom. Everything will be fine." She knew he couldn't hear either. They'd destroyed his auditory nerves too. She stroked his hand against her skin, hoping he could feel her, notice her, know he was safe, he was home. She was here.

The rags didn't hide anything they'd done to him. They weren't meant to. He'd been sent back as a warning.

She knew they transported merely because her surrounding suddenly changed. She heard the Doctor. She felt someone's hands on her waist, heard voices that didn't say anything she could understand. She didn't want to let go, didn't want to leave him.

"B'Elanna, please.."

"Give me that hypospray!"

"B'Elanna, listen to me. The Doctor--"

"What is the dosage for a half-Klingon--"

"Give it to me!"

"B'Elanna, get back--"

Her vision went dark. She couldn't feel his hand, and tried to struggle, regain her hold.

"No."

She didn't think they heard her.

* * * * *

"How is he?" B'Elanna's voice almost as if from a distance. She could recognize it. It was so damned dark.

"I don't know yet." The Doctor, stressed. Never a good thing. Janeway tried to lift her head from the biobed.

"What do you mean you don't know yet?" Harsh, biting. Terrified and angry and not trying to hide it.

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant."

B'Elanna, come here." Chakotay. His voice shook.

"I want to know what happened!" Angry, frightened. Looking for something to fight.

"I need 10cc of napromine." The Doctor's voice had risen at least an octave.

"We only know what the Captain told us, B'Elanna."

"She let this happen." Hate, barely leashed.

"She didn't have any choice."

"Neural activity is stable, Doctor." Janeway wondered vaguely who the Doctor's nurse was--she didn't recognize the soft voice--or did she?

"Look what the hell they did to him!"

Captain Janeway, laying on the biobed far away from the activity, tried to lift her head. Chakotay was instantly at her side. His hand covered hers.

"Captain." The relief that filled his voice turned the title into an endearment. She smiled as he pressed her shoulder back down. "Don't move yet. Your head took quite a beating."

She tried to smile, give him something, but found she simply didn't have the energy. She opened her mouth, trying to speak, but the words wouldn't come.

"Don't talk. You were severely dehydrated. You need to regain your strength."

She tried anyway. He knew her well enough to know that she would. She wished she could open her eyes enough to see him clearly.

"T--t--o--tom." Her voice was so thready she wondered if he could hear it. Apparently, he did. The hand on her shoulder tightened.

"We don't know yet. The Doctor is working on him now."

"Lieutenant, please stand back."

No answer. Chakotay's hand loosened, and she could sense he had turned away.

"B'Elanna, please--" Harry's voice, sounding desperate.

"Leave me alone." Eerily quiet.

Ten days on Sephemor. Janeway let herself fall limp onto her bed, not bothering to try to cling to consciousness any longer. But the voices intruded anyway.

"He can't die, Chakotay."

"The Doctor is doing everything he can, B'Elanna."

"I can't go through this again. I can't."

"B'Elanna--"

"I can't!" The voice shook. "I won't. He'll be okay, because I can't do this again." Her breathing was audible even to Janeway. Choked sounds of sobs trapped in her voice that she wouldn't let loose.

God, she wanted oblivion.

* * * * *

B'Elanna watched Tom on the biobed, eyes fixed on the readings.

He was alive.

She could hear Chakotay and Harry just behind her. Dithering, watching her. She hadn't left sickbay for twenty-two hours. Six hours of grueling surgery--and they still had the reconstructive surgery to do.

She held one of his hands. Probably the only part of him to come through unscathed, except for broken fingers and burns. Repairable.

And his face. Blue eyes closed. That looked okay too. Of course, that made sense, considering what they were using him for.

Her hand tightened and she made an effort to unclench her fingers, not to hurt him, even if the idea was laughable. He was in an induced coma right now--the Doctor had taken the step when they realized that his pain centers had been so overloaded that he couldn't even black out anymore naturally, and so resistant to anesthesia that even dangerously high amounts didn't last. The Doctor had never seen anything like it.

B'Elanna had. After all, she'd been Maquis. Probably the only thing he could comprehend was pain right now.

Carefully, she reached out, touching his mouth with one hand. Bruised lips, his teeth had been repaired the night before. He'd lost many. Blonde hair was a stubble on his head.

She'd seen the reports. She knew everything they had done to him in graphic detail. Right down to the mutilations that the Doctor said he could fix, the damage done by rape, by plasma burning, by animals--she wouldn't dignify them by calling them sentient--by calling them anything. She watched him breathe. Caught herself matching the slow, shallow breaths.

Interior burning of the lungs had been the first thing the Doctor had repaired. He breathed so lightly--she wondered how he had survived with seventy-five percent of his lungs destroyed. Every breath must have been an agony.

Every scream. She knew he had screamed. They had sent recordings of what they had done to him. To the Captain. B'Elanna had watched every one of them. She heard him scream. She woke up hearing it now.

She'd never known what it was to truly hate before. Even the Cardassians. She'd seen what the Cardassians would do to their prisoners, on Bajor, in the DMZ. She'd hated them for that. But it had never been this utterly, devastatingly personal.

"B'Elanna."

"No."

Chakotay's hand was warm on her shoulder.

"You've got to get some rest. It'll be days before the Doctor wakes him up."

"I know." Quiet.

"Come eat something."

"No." She traced his cheek with one finger, the smooth skin, the stubble of his beard. "He needs to be shaved. He hates this. Funny, I always thought it was kind of sexy."

"You can't stay here--"

"He needs me." Simple. She knew that like she knew her name.

"You can't do anything for him here--"

"I can be here. When he wakes up."

"B'Elanna--"

She didn't bother looking behind her as Chakotay's hand fell from her shoulder.

"I don't want to make it an order."

She didn't answer for a moment.

"Don't make this a battle you can't win, Chakotay. You're not that Maquis anymore."

Silence, and she found the leg of a chair with her toes, pulling it toward the bed.

"He's been infected with a virus the Doctor doesn't recognize," B'Elanna said softly. "No big surprise there--we don't stumble across viruses we know, that would be too easy. He has only a few weeks to live unless the Doctor figures out how to fix it." Her smile turned lopsided, her eyes never leaving Tom. "Two guesses how he got the virus. The Doctor says he'll find a way. He says Tom will be fine." She sat down, still holding Tom's hand. "The Captain says we can't go back to the planet to ask, because that would break the Prime Directive. So no, I don't have to leave. My lover is going to die and I'm going to be here so he isn't alone when it happens."

Chakotay took a deep breath, she could hear it.

"The Doctor will find a way."

"If he doesn't, then this is the last time I have. If he wakes up, I need to be here."

"B'Elanna--"

"Get the hell away from me."

* * * * *

They were called the Da'Oon. Twelve days before, they had taken the Captain and Ensign Paris during a routine away mission.

Two days ago, they'd been returned.

Seven went to her workstation, pulling up the files on the Da'Oon.

Five months before, the crew had been--possessed--by the K'eya. Ensign Paris had killed them. The Da'Oon had--apparently--discovered what he had done, he and those on Voyager who had not been taken by the K'eya.

Seven knew the history. She'd read Ensign Paris' logs, listened to his testimony at the Inquiry.

But her concentration was--uncertain.

Seven turned her eyes to the console again, reading the Captain's report to Chakotay, made while she was still injured, against the Doctor's orders. Seven had not been there.

So she read the report.

* * * * *

Janeway opened her eyes on the ceiling of Sickbay.

Grey.

"Captain?"

Slowly, carefully, she turned her head, saw the Doctor approach, medical tricorder held efficiently in one hand.

He ran the tricorder over her, his careful neutral expression dissolving.

"The damage to your lungs has been repaired, Captain."

She slowly drew in a breath. There was no pain. Experimentally, she drew another, then a third, relaxing at the feel of air that didn't burn, didn't damage--didn't make her spit up blood.

"You should be fully recovered within a week, Captain," he told her, the tricorder shutting with a cheery snap. She tried to smile, then lifted herself on her elbows carefully.

"How's Tom?"

The smile faded. She levered an arm from below her, reaching out to grab his hand.

"Doctor? How is he?"

A deep breath, when a hologram shouldn't need to breathe.

"He's alive, Captain."

Her eyes closed, and she lay back down.

"How bad?" Her voice was low in her throat.

Silence, and she felt the tears burn behind her closed lids. The light above turned them to red.

"I repaired most of the major damage to his internal organs, his--" the Doctor stopped, and Janeway felt her jaw begin to tremble even as she locked it shut. "He was exposed to a virus, Captain. When they--"

"I know what they did to him," she interrupted harshly. "Can you cure him?"

Another pause that went on too long.

"I have been unsuccessful in finding a way to treat him, Captain."

"How long does he have?"

"A week, perhaps a little more." He wouldn't be less than honest, she knew. Not with her, not after all this time.

She drew in a breath--somehow it didn't taste as good, feel as good.

"He did it for me," she said softly, not opening her eyes.

"You need to rest."

"He took the pips from my collar when I--after the first time. Told them I didn't know anything--" She choked on a breath and heard the Doctor flip his medical tricorder open. "I'm fine." Am I? "They didn't believe a woman could be a Captain anyway--they left me in that cell to rot, unless they really wanted to hurt him--made him watch--until--"

"Captain--you don't need--"

"He's going to die because of me, Doctor! Let me damn well take responsibility for it!"

He was quiet.

She wanted that.

* * * * *

B'Elanna dropped her uniform in the fresher and walked into the bathroom.

Her mirror was cracked, pieces sprinkling her sink. She stared at her broken reflection.

He would die. She would watch Tom die, and the kindest thing the Doc could do was make sure Tom didn't wake up before it happened.

She had a week to watch her lover die.

They were leaving her alone at least. Chakotay and Harry. They didn't understand, of course, couldn't understand, not really. They thought she needed company, someone to cry with or rage at--they didn't understand.

She had one week, and no idea what to do with it. She would never see Tom conscious. She would never see him smile, laugh, tease Neelix over dinner, never see his fingers dance over the helm with unconscious ease. No one would.

The Doctor didn't know how to cure him. With time--time they didn't have--he was sure he could find a way. But that was the one commodity they were short of. She leaned both hands onto the sink, staring into her own eyes, reflected endlessly in broken glass, seeing nothing there...

She'd slept too little to be tired.

She tried to remember her reasoned, passionless arguments--she'd run out of anything except dull acceptance over thirty-six hours ago. Anything that took her from Sickbay was superfluous. She'd known the Captain wouldn't go back, find out how to cure what they'd done to him...

B'Elanna closed her eyes, pressing her forehead into the shattered glass, thinking of the Captain's protegee--some said her lover--standing by the Captain's bed, blue eyes blank, dark.

Her hand rose from the sink, tapping the commbadge attached to her turtleneck.

"Torres to Seven of Nine."

No answer. The Borg was regenerating. B'Elanna pulled the commbadge off, pivoting on her heel, throwing it at the far wall. Of course, it wouldn't break, wouldn't give her even the smallest satisfaction, but ricocheted off the wall to bounce onto the floor. She pressed one hand against the wall.

She wondered how he had managed to survive ten days.

The recording was still in her workstation, and she pressed a key to activate it, so she could watch yet again what they had done to her lover with brutal and methodical patience.

This was something she knew Harry and Chakotay would never understand, not really. Why she needed to see it, watch it, listen to it, even if her dreams were filled with those screams now. She needed--

:::Seven of Nine to Lieutenant Torres.:::

B'Elanna blinked, then knelt on the floor, searching for her badge, wondering why the hell she didn't bother to see where it landed.

:::Lieutenant Torres, please respond.:::

B'Elanna's hand closed over it blindly, bringing it to her chest.

"Torres here," she answered breathlessly, clutching the metal, something growing in her that she couldn't quite explain--something anticipatory almost--Exhaustion causes emotional euphoria on occasion.

"Seven, meet me in Sickbay in five minutes. Torres out." She snapped the channel closed, standing up to look around her room before finding her uniform jacket and pulling it on over her shirt, quickly attaching her commbadge to it, then, on second thought, turning to her bed.

Carefully, she dropped it on the cover.

Thinking.

She wasn't sure--but it was something...

She turned to the door of her quarters, pausing as she entered the hall.

"Computer, engage privacy lock." And walked down the hall to the turbolift.

* * * * *

Chakotay entered her quarters carrying a tray. She smiled, lifting her head from the back of the couch to watch him lay it effortlessly on her coffee table.

"You look better," he commented with a small smile.

"I feel better," she answered, leaning forward to get the cup of coffee he'd thoughtfully arranged nearest her on the tray. "Thanks."

"How's it feel to be back in your quarters?" he asked softly, seating himself beside her and taking a glass of water, sipping it carefully, dark eyes on her.

"Comforting." She hid her downturned lips behind her cup. "The Doctor put me on medical leave for a week. Enjoy being captain, Chakotay." Her eyes turned away, to the door. His hand covered hers on the couch.

"Don't give up, Kathryn," he said softly. "The Doctor is still working on a cure for him."

Her mouth stretched in a cynical grin.

"They said they wanted us to remember. He didn't tell them anything, Chakotay. Not about the crew under K'eya influence, not what he did to kill them." Her lips tightened. "They called him a war criminal, for what he did for us, to them."

"The Da'Oon?"

The Captain nodded slowly, wincing when it pulled a muscle in her neck.

"Tom's name is famous here now, too," she murmured. "They didn't know--at the beginning, who we were. He took my pips off after we were--attacked--on the ship, made sure I was unconscious, told them who he was. That he was the one they were looking for." Her teeth gritted together. "They wanted all of them--all of Tom's crew--they even knew names. Tom didn't say a word. No matter what they did to him, he didn't tell them about the others. About anyone. Not security codes, defenses--I tried--I didn't want--I told them who I was, that he--but they didn't believe me." She lowered her head, shaking it slightly from side to side. "They--I watched, Chakotay. And the--" Her hand went to her mouth, and he reached out, touching her cheek. She pulled back so suddenly that he was startled, hand dropping to the cushion.

"You can't--"

"I will blame myself. If I'd been awake, I could have talked him out of it, ordered him--"

"Are we talking about the same Tom Paris?" Chakotay answered calmly. "He made a command decision to protect you. He made the right one."

"No one is expendable, Chakotay, least of all me," she shot. Then leaned back, cup still clutched in one hand. "You don't know what they did to him, Chakotay. You weren't there--"

* * * * *

"Lieutenant!" The Doctor turned from his workstation to see B'Elanna come in the door.

"Computer, deactivate emergency medical hologram."

His look of classic shock would almost have been enough, at another time, to make her smile. He disappeared, indignant to the very end, and B'Elanna sat at his workstation, pulling up files she knew she would need--though she wasn't sure for what yet. Not yet.

"Computer, locate all files pertaining to the experiences of Commander Chakotay with the ex-Borg Drone Riley and the link created between them." She waited as the computer blurped something, then began to scroll her information. "Now locate all files pertaining to Ensign Thomas Paris and the neurogenic field associated with the ship Alice. Cross-reference with B'Elanna Torres. Display results."

The files crystallized her thoughts, making them suddenly sharp, clear. She leaned forward, tapping commands into the computer, reading the scrolling information, absorbing what it would tell her--what she--

"Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna didn't lift her head.

"Just a sec, Seven," she answered coolly, tapping in a few more commands. She felt the taller woman move to stand behind her, then the soft catch of breath as what B'Elanna was doing made sense.

"Lieutenant Torres--"

"I've done it before. But I need you to help me do this right," she answered, loading the information into a PADD, then turning to the ex-Borg. "I have the specs to build a neural link unit for me and Tom--but I need you to oversee us. You've assimilated millions, by your own count--you shouldn't have any trouble keeping us in a temporary link."

"I do not understand the purpose, Lieutenant." Seven took a step back as B'Elanna passed her.

"You don't have to," B'Elanna answered, walking back into the main room of Sickbay, finding the replicator. "Both these units will be identical. It's temporary, it won't be any more dangerous than a mind-meld."

Seven trailed behind B'Elanna, watching as the other woman began to program in the commands with quick darts of her fingers.

"I do not understand why you are attempting this." Seven's blue eyes met B'Elanna's without guile as she turned around. B'Elanna took a step forward.

"They raped the Captain, Seven. And Tom."

Seven's jaw tightened suddenly, and B'Elanna took another step forward, not letting the tall blonde look away.

"They tortured them--the Captain and Tom." She took another step closer. "And Tom will die. Because of what they did to him, because of what he did for us."

"You want to discover how far away the Da'Oon home planet is," Seven said softly. She hadn't blinked. "If it is possible to get there and discover what you need to cure Lieutenant Paris."

"I need everything he knows, everything he saw and heard when he was there."

"He may not know what you require."

B'Elanna chuckled harshly, then covered her mouth, surprised by the sound.

"He knows, Seven. Even a clue--we have a starting point, where they were taken, in the Eyiks Nebula, when they were studying tachyon disbursement--and an end point--where we found them. A neutral planet, Heiulesa."

"He might not have been taken to the Da'Oon homeworld."

"He'll know," B'Elanna said softly. She'd stepped even closer, looking up into hypnotized blue eyes. "He's a Starfleet officer--he'd have found out something."

Seven slowly nodded, then quickly shook her head, blinking.

"The Captain would not approve, Lieutenant Torres."

B'Elanna reached out, taking a tight grip on Seven's shoulder, jerking her forward.

"I don't care. They tortured my lover, infected him with something we can't cure. They tortured your Captain...and Seven, don't tell me that doesn't mean anything." She forced Seven closer. "Help me do this, find the cure for Tom. And find the bastards that did this to them."

Seven drew in a deep breath.

"I do not--" Seven froze, and B'Elanna could see the struggle, and backed away, walking to the replicator, feeding the specs of the two units in that would help her link with Tom. Chakotay had used something similar with Riley--this could work, she knew it could. She glanced at the PADD, checking her settings.

"There are--complications--to what you are proposing." The carefully neutral voice brought a small smile to B'Elanna's mouth

"I know." The first one materialized and B'Elanna carried it to Tom's biobed, tenderly turning his head to place it on his neck. Then looking at the closed blue eyes in the thin face for a long moment.

"You will not be able to choose among his memories for the information you desire. You will receive it all."

B'Elanna nodded, moving back to the replicator to pick up the second one, and took out a small laser. Walking back, she found a chair and pulled it up by Tom's bed, sitting down before handing Seven the second unit and the laser to adjust it with.

"Fix the frequency so Tom and I match. Can you hook yourself in to observe?" B'Elanna asked. She leaned over, checking the settings on Tom's, then checking its position on his neck. "Now."

* * * * *

Harry dithered outside B'Elanna's quarters, trying to decide what to do. If he should go in there, if he could go in there, see how she was, despite her curt dismissal.

See those recordings again. Watch what they had done to his best friend.

Hatred had never been so personal. He clenched on hand, hitting the wall.

He'd watched them all. Every recording.

The thoughts should have frightened him, what he would do if he saw one of them. If he had been the one in judgement on them--that he couldn't be a Starfleet officer and Tom's friend both right now, he had to choose, and it was such an easy decision. It wasn't a decision at all.

He'd hear Tom's screams for the rest of his life. He'd hear the Captain's in his dreams.

He hit the chime with one shaking finger.

"B'Elanna."

He needed her--needed someone to drive it away.

Nothing.

* * * * *

Seven placed her assimilation tube against B'Elanna's neck.

She could not believe, even though the evidence was right in front of her, that B'Elanna trusted her enough to do this. Cared enough about Lieutenant Paris enough to try this. Hated the Da'Oon enough to want this so badly.

B'Elanna closed her eyes.

"The nanoprobes will ease the transition," Seven said finally, kneeling beside the chair, watching as B'Elanna blindly found Tom's lifeless hand, fingers closing over his.

Seven closed her own eyes briefly. Behind them, images of the Captain's bruised, raw face appeared, the grey-blue eyes blank as she told Chakotay what had happened. Seven, standing out of sight, listening to what the Captain said in a raw, choked voice. Listened, then found the recordings, watched them.

She'd never known hate until now.

She released, and closed her hand over B'Elanna's fingers as the woman's body stiffened.

* * * * *

* * * * *

"Kathryn, you need to rest."

She stared at the plate of food Chakotay had brought, gently pressing it away, her stomach turning over.

"I can't, Chakotay." She didn't move, and Chakotay reached over, gently pressing a hand to her chin until she looked at him.

"How much do you remember?"

"Not most of the last two days there," she admitted softly. "Just pieces--bits of memories. They wouldn't let me talk to Tom--I'm not sure that he could have--but I could see him through the glass--they didn't need me anymore when they'd burned his eyes out." She shuddered suddenly, and Chakotay reached out, trying to hold her. She jerked away, breathing a sharp gasp when the sudden movement pulled her repaired spinal cord.

He drew back.

"You need to talk about it," he said softly, caressing her cheek carefully. She didn't pull away, but she didn't respond to it, either. She wasn't in the same room with him at all. "Tell me what happened--what isn't in the official reports. You can't keep this bottled up inside anymore--."

Her head turned away, exposing her profile to him.

"Not yet." She closed her eyes, pulling her legs up under her, looking more fragile than he'd ever seen her. Red hair covered her eyes as she bent her head, obscuring her face, her expression. He moved his fingers away, feeling rather than hearing her breath of relief.

He wanted to hold her, tell her nothing could hurt her here. The way her eyes scanned the room, the tension in her body, even the way she held herself, watching for enemies--he knew that look, that feeling...that experience.

"It's too close, Chakotay," she whispered, but he wasn't even sure she knew he was there anymore. "Too close."

* * * * *

"No--" Seven whispered. "Don't--leave her the fuck alone!

* * * * *

Three chimes later, Harry still didn't know what to do. B'Elanna, as the computer confirmed numerous times, was in her quarters.

Reluctantly, he turned away from the door. He wasn't here for B'Elanna--he was here for himself. Selfish bastard. Let her be alone.

But that left him alone with his own thoughts and nothing to do.

He touched his commbadge.

"Ensign Kim to Seven of Nine."

He waited. Nothing. She must still be regenerating. Slowly, he turned to walk down the hall, trying to think of something else, anything else--knowing he'd return to his room and watch those recordings again, the last time he'd see Tom Paris, his best friend, alive. Knowing what that meant and no longer able to stop his own helpless anger. What they had done to him, because of the K'eya. Because the good ship Voyager had stopped at the wrong planet and forgotten to get all their ducks in a row before tripping their asses down for some serious fun.

Until they'd woken up ten days later and found out what they had done.

Tom was paying for it all.

* * * * *

B'Elanna was on her feet, fell to her knees, the images too much for her to process. She couldn't see--of course she couldn't see, they blinded her, why should she be able to see? Seven's hand was still against her neck, B'Elanna still had her grip on Tom, unable to let go, feeling the floor beneath one hand, so cold--no, that wasn't right, they'd held her on a metal biobed to make her talk, there was something piercing her ear, inside it--

"That's not me." She grabbed for her neck, finding Seven's hand, the assimilation tube still implanted.

Her head suddenly exploded with pain, and she grabbed her ear, expecting to feel blood on her fingers...but she felt nothing. Only pain and silence.

She felt Seven leaning against her, breathing hard, and tried to get Seven's hand, the tubes still implanted in her neck.

B'Elanna's back stiffened, feeling her hands begin to shake--were they her hands? God, no--Tom. Please, Kahless--please God, get the hell away from the Captain! Leave her alone, damn it! She doesn't know anything! We won't tell you anything!

"Tom," she whispered. "B'Elanna. I'm B'Elanna. I'm *B'Elanna*."

Someone's hands were at her throat--they'd left her untied--stupid bastards.

She grabbed out, finding a vulnerable throat, grabbing it with both hands, knocking the interrogator over onto the cool floor of Sickbay--Sickbay? The Interrogator wasn't in Sickbay, why is he here, did I tell them? Did I tell them something they could use to take over Voyager?

Someone was choking. She straddled the body easily, using her knees to pin the Interrogator to the floor, grinding in--heard someone screaming, knew it was herself, the raw screams that came when you couldn't talk anymore--after what they had done to her--

And something grabbed her neck, and there was a pull--and the screams stopped. The pain faded--but not the hatred.

B'Elanna collapsed on Seven's body, trying to breathe. Below her, she felt the Borg's chest heaving for air, and loosened her hands.

Neither of them spoke.

* * * * *

Harry touched his commbadge.

"Kim to Seven of Nine."

He shook his head slowly, making his way to his quarters.

:::Seven of Nine here, Ensign Kim. How--::: A breathy pause. :::How may I assist you?:::

Harry thought about that carefully.

"I was just--seeing if you were busy tonight," he answered. "I wanted--"

:::I am--available.::: A pause again, and Harry wondered what she was thinking, why she seemed so--:::I'll see you on Holodeck 2, Harry.:::

Harry blinked at the sudden--the change in her voice. The intonation had changed, the words--that wasn't Seven.

"Seven, where are you?"

No answer.

"Computer, location of Seven of Nine?" he called, as he began to walk to the turbolift.

:::Seven of Nine is in Sickbay.:::

Harry blinked.

And began to walk faster.

* * * * *

"Are you okay, Seven?" B'Elanna levered herself on one hand and tried to get her feet under her. No luck--she slid back down, her leg aching, burning heat sliding up every nerve from the drugs--though they had preferred the old-fashioned physical torture--

"I am well." Seven was leaning against the chair, head down. B'Elanna saw the livid print of her fingers in Seven's neck.

"You sounded odd just now," B'Elanna observed, taking a deep breath and grabbing the edge of the biobed to pull herself up. Tom lay there, and she took a moment to touch his face, caressing it gently. He didn't look disturbed. "We didn't touch his conscious mind, did we?"

"No. The induced coma has kept him--oblivious--to our activities. I need to get to Holodeck 2. I promised Harry last week he could beat me at pool--" Seven cut off, taking a breath. The blue eyes were wide with shock, disoriented.

"Is this normal, Seven?" asked B'Elanna, then shook her head. "Never mind, I remember what happened to you before, with the memories of those you assimilated."

Seven smiled tenderly, reaching out to touch B'Elanna's leg, a familiar caress of her thigh that B'Elanna recognized vaguely.

"I'm fine, B'Elanna. You look beautiful."

B'Elanna recognized the voice. She stiffened.

"Seven!" She drew her leg back, taking a short breath, her hand stilling on Tom's face.

The blue eyes went dark for a minute...and then her face clenched. Finally, she straightened.

"I am--I am fine, Lieutenant." Seven let out a short breath. "It is--disorienting. When I assimilated new drones, there were many to take the experience with me--and to keep me--anchored." She took a breath, then slowly stood up, utilizing the chair for support. "I will be--fine." Her eyes lowered, oddly enough. "I am--sorry, Lieutenant Torres."

B'Elanna nodded, looking back down at Tom.

"The planet is Semphor, in the Glasis system," Seven said. "It is three light-years away."

"The Delta Flyer can get there in one day," B'Elanna answered, the double and triple memories giving her--something. Knowledge? Understanding? She didn't know, didn't even care. They had what they needed. "Tom has seven days at best--at least six. If we leave today--we'll have four days."

"Will that be sufficient time?" Seven caught her balance on the edge of the biobed. "The Captain will--"

"This is for the Captain, and for Tom," B'Elanna answered harshly. She fought away the memories that wanted to engulf her.

"Can you pilot the Delta Flyer?"

B'Elanna smiled a little, eyes going distant.

"It's a sweet little ship, isn't it?" she whispered. "When I designed it, I wanted speed and maneuverability. It has both. A regular twenty-fourth century hotrod. There won't be a problem getting it there--" she stopped, shaking her head sharply. That's not me. "How long does the effects of this thing last?" She stared down at Tom, touching the remains of blonde hair carefully, as if he might feel it.

Seven shrugged, and her body stiffened again at the foreign gesture. B'Elanna reached out both hands to take Seven's shoulders, shaking her gently.

"I promised I'd help you in any way you needed--" B'Elanna sucked in a breath. Seven reached out, touching her face, fingers stroking the ridges idly. B'Elanna jerked back. That felt like Tom...

"We'll need something to dampen the neural link," Seven answered softly, her hand falling away, then she turned away

"I don't--"B'Elanna paused. "Ten ccs of porfileium. That's what I used to help Chakotay after Riley--I can't sort it out." B'Elanna shook her head, finding Tom's hand. And I don't care. "I'm B'Elanna, not Tom." Keeping even her surface thoughts in order was so difficult--she could feel too much.

Seven looked equally uneasy, and went to the medical supply cabinet. Expertly, she hunted up the correct medication and loaded the hyposprays, returning to press one against B'Elanna's throat. She heard the half-Klingon breathe out.

"It will not last long," Seven said. She pressed the second to her own neck, letting out a breath as it took effect. "What do you wish to do now?"

B'Elanna stared down at Tom, watched the rise and fall of his chest.

"Get off this ship."