I think it's necessary for me to dictate this message to spare you great pain. There are disastrous things in store if you don't listen to me now. All I ask is that you trust me one more time, my friend.
I didn't tell my counterpart for your sake. I didn't want to mortify you. But now, I will tell the truth about Seven's death in my timeline.
As you may know, Seven is an excellent cook. A master chef.
In my timeline, you two married. And she cooked for you. She cooked the most delicious food, and unfortunately, Chakotay, you overindulged yourself.
You were married sixteen months, and you weighed over 400 pounds.
I... I did the unthinkable. I ordered you on a diet. I pretended that it impaired your duties, but truthfully, I took pride in having such a good-looking crew to show off to other captains. It was how I selected my crew in the Alpha Quadrant. Looks! I had my own motives, and I curse myself for them. How I hate that order I gave you!
You went on the cabbage soup diet. You only ate cabbage soup, and the pounds slowly started to fall off.
Then disaster struck. One night, you were struck with terrible flatulence. I ordered you to bed, and in your sleep, you repeatedly expelled gas. Seven of Nine's Borg physiology made her vulnerable. She succumbed quickly to the fumes. You barely survived yourself.
You never forgave yourself. I never forgave myself for ordering you on the diet. After Seven's death, all the weight fell off, of course, but the damage was done.
I'm sorry I failed you. I will make it right again. But you must ensure that the future I carve will not lead to the future I just destroyed!
Either dump Seven, or go on a diet. If I ever order you on one, avoid the Cabbage Soup Diet at all costs!
This is the only advice I can impart to my dear friend. I don't want to see you become the broken old man I knew.
Goodbye, my fair friend. And farewell.