The air was icy cold, his skin dimpled and a slight frost began to form on the hair of his arms. Jonathon stepped further down the corridor and into the darkness, he stretched his left arm out out and felt the cold metallic sting of the hull plating running along the side.
A light in front of him snapped into life and filled the darkness burning his eyes. Charlotte stood before him illuminated in her Captain's uniform. She looked sad, her eyes were ringed with red as if she had been crying. She shivered and pulled her jacket tightly around her.
"Why are you here?" his voice rasped, he barely recognised it as his own.
"You keep bringing me here." He heard the hint of frustration. "If you don't want to see me stop summoning me."
He was doing this? How?
He took a step closer towards her but she raised a hand to block him.
"Stop please. Don't come closer."
"But why?"
"Jonathon, I barely know you anymore."
"I'm the same man you fell in love with, the same man who fought to save your life, the man who stood in front of the entire world and said I love you Charlotte Bell." He felt a lump in his throat as he felt her scorn. "You're my everything."
She looked on stonily, her eyes fixed on his. "I fell in love with a good man, a man of principle and honour, now your heart is filled with nothing but darkness."
"You were my light, without you I can only dwell in darkness." he bit back.
She shook her head and he could see a fiery rage he'd not seen in years, a deep burning poison was preparing to escape. Instead she spoke in measured tones.
"You're blaming me?"
"You left me..."
She cut him off with a controlled explosion. "You make it sound like I had a choice! I was taken from you! Do you think I wanted to go?"
He stared at her, his mind robbed of cognitive thought. The anger in her eyes still burned bright and he knew there was no point in questioning or pushing any further. He thought of the deaths, the blood on his hands and the route he had found himself on. Part of him, his old self was revolted by his actions. Was she a projection of his subconscious? Was it a N'kell trick?
"What would you have me do?"
"You need to turn back Jonathon, turn away from this course, you are a better man than this. Then maybe I can rest in peace."
"I wouldn't see you again?" He sounded needy, even to his own ears, had she dominated his life so much?
"One day..." She said wistfully.
"What would I do without you?"
"Go on living." She sounded incredulous. "Jonathon you have many years of your life to go, you can't become fixated like this. My life is over, yours is still ongoing."
"But I don't want to." Tears welled in his eyes. "Not without you."
"Then take your side arm, press it to your temple and end it." She lost her patience and snapped.
He glanced down at the butt of the sidearm protruding from it's holster. It seemed to call to him and he felt his hand twitch towards it. The lure of peace, of being with her. He felt the weight lifting from his mind, the voices quietening down.
Rage suddenly filled him, bubbling out of control and he spat vehmentally at her. "You would like that wouldn't you? For me to stop my work."
She was even more incredulous. "What?" she narrowed her eyes and her cheeks flushed with rage.
"You're one of them. You're here to stop me..."
"If I wasn't who I said I was would I know about Doolan? You're nickname was Freya because of your snoring? That your mother's name is Florence?"
He looked at her knowing what she said was true. How could a facsimile know all of those details?
But how could it really be her?
"You have to have faith, not everything can be explained. I can't explain it myself. All I know is I keep finding myself here watching you disintegrate from the man I knew and loved. It's too painful Jonathon - I can't do it anymore."
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