This is the 9th in the Just Between series. It was written and posted during the first part of November, 1998, occurring after the events which took place in Night and Drone.

This one is dedicated to Susan Mullarky who ventured out one weekend into the wilds of Nova Scotia and helped me hammer this puppy out, and of course, to all my beta readers.

Just Between Memories

G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine rushed through the corridors of the Federation starship Voyager, her long strides carrying her to sickbay with a haste borne of apprehension and outright fear. The expression on her narrow blonde features caused those crewmembers in her path to hastily step aside, and look after her with combination of astonishment and anxiousness, baffled as to what would propel the woman, normally so cool and contained, on such a heedless sprint through the ship.

Seven was brought up short, just inside the doors of Voyager’s medical bay, dismayed at what she saw, even though she had prior warning. The call had come down to her in the astrometrics lab, the first officer, Commander Chakotay, informing her that there had been an accident on the bridge, that the captain had been injured in some sort of explosion. Seven was on her way to sickbay before he had even finished speaking.

Her eyes locked on the red and black clad form lying so still on the bio-bed, the Doctor working over her with a tight, grim expression. He was assisted by Sek, a small, slender woman with fair skin and light hair and eyes. Seven was unaware of the small sound she made in her throat then, feeling an odd sort of dizziness go through her. She lunged toward the bed, and was intercepted by the solid bulk of Chakotay who caught and held her arms gently.

“Seven,” he said calmly but firmly. “Let the Doctor work.”

She resisted briefly, then ceased in her attempt to get by him, her dismayed gaze never leaving that pale face framed by a multitude of equipment. “What happened?” she asked, voice cracking.

“She was working on the bridge science station,” he explained. A tall, broad-shouldered bear of a man, his handsome features were compassionate as he held onto her. “There was a system feedback which made the panel explode. She took the brunt of it. B’Elanna’s on the bridge determining the cause right now.”

Seven felt her heart catch, watching as the Doctor worked intently on the captain. Seven knew both he and Sek would be doing everything they were capable of. Since both beings were actually Emergency Medical Holograms, she knew that their programming had instant access to the ship’s entire medical database. She was relieved by that. When it came to efficiency, she much preferred these technical beings working on her partner rather than a fallible humanoid. There would be no hesitation, no emotional overtones that might delay treatment.

Chakotay seemed to sense that Seven was under control again, and he released her, his dark eyes focussed on her face. “Seven, the Doctor is doing all he can,” he said quietly.

Disturbed by the tone in his voice, she looked at him. His face was very grave.

“No,” she said weakly, feeling her knees turn to water.

“It’s a possibility,” he said. Perhaps with anyone else, he would have approached the issue more cautiously, sparing them the brutal truth. With Seven, however, he understood that she both expected and required clear data, a concise summing up of the situation. She would not appreciate being treated as a mere Human with delicate sensibilities. “The head injury is very severe.”

She took a breath and forced herself to straighten, refocusing her attention on the Doctor. He made a few final adjustments to the equipment, and left Sek to monitor the data from the screens displaying the captain’s bio-readings. As he walked over to the two crewmembers, his face was carefully neutral, and Seven paled as she studied those features closely, trying to find a clue to indicate how bad this was.

“Commander,” he said calmly. “Seven. The captain is stabilized for the moment.”

“What does that mean?” the Borg demanded before Chakotay could.

“It means that she’s not getting any worse, and that we can operate as soon as Sek finishes prepping her,” he said. “Her neural pathways have been severely damaged, and it will require some innovative treatment on my part to repair them.” He hesitated, regarding each of them seriously. Activated for the past five years on a continual basis since the death of the original ship’s Chief Medical Officer, the Doctor had achieved a sort of sentience, including developing an empathy for his patients … and the patient’s loved ones. “As of now, it’s logical to expect that there will be some permanent repercussion.”

“In what way?” Chakotay said.

“A certain loss of motor control, memory loss, perhaps even brain damage,” he replied. “I’ll know more after I operate.”

Seven wondered if this was shock. She seemed unnaturally detached from herself, as if her head had somehow parted from her body. A loss of motor control? That slender, lithe body which was so active, so dynamic? Memory loss? Brain damage? That fine, clear intellect altered irreparably, unable to reason and think and understand? She linked her hands behind her back, clenching them so hard, she could feel the Borg mesh cut into the flesh.

“Will she live?” she asked, amazed that her voice was so even, without any inflection at all.

The Doctor dipped his head. “I will do everything I can,” he said. “It was the brain pathways that suffered the most. I’ll know more once I’ve begun to operate.”

Seven looked over his shoulder then, realizing that Sek was cutting the uniform from Janeway, covering her up with a sheet. She was aware of Chakotay who was also gazing at the biobed, and she wondered if he noticed how small the captain seemed at this moment, how very vulnerable she looked. Seven was suddenly angry, resenting the fact that he presumed to care about Kathryn, but she controlled it almost immediately as she recognized the emotion as being completely irrational, rising from her fear.

“This will take some time,” the Doctor told them both. “There’s nothing you can do here.”

“I will wait,” Seven said coldly, her expression threatening dire consequences if anyone tried to move her.

Chakotay eyed her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll log you off duty,” he said. “Someone will need to cover astrometrics. In the meantime, I need to get back to the bridge.” He looked at the doctor. “Contact me the second you have more,” he ordered.

“Understood,” the Doctor said, and Chakotay took his leave.

The Doctor looked at Seven. “You can stay in my office,” he offered. “There won’t be much to see, and I’d prefer you remain outside the operating theater.”

“I will comply,” she said.

She made her way into the small office, sitting down on the chair covered with the Starfleet blue fabric as she gazed through the huge transparency which opened out to sickbay, observing closely while the Doctor returned to the biobed after altering his uniform to surgical whites. The sterilizing force field he set up surrounding the biobed sparkled as he and Sek walked in and out of it at will, and Seven’s eyes kept being drawn to the fragile form on the bed. Thoughts and emotions swirled in the Borg’s head, making it hard for her to think clearly. Memories of the past two years crowded her mind, flashes of the various experiences she had undergone which had brought her to this point in time.

Her name had been Annika Hansen, all those years ago, before she had been assimilated by the Borg Collective. Raised by parents who were unorthodox scientists studying the Borg, their ship, the Raven, had been drawn deep into the Delta Quadrant, carried along by the Borg cube where they had been observing their subjects up close. Too close. Seven had just turned six when she and her parents were assimilated, and for the next eighteen years, she had known only the Collective, its hive mind controlling and directing her every act, her every thought.

Then, she had appeared.

Captain Kathryn Janeway, all fire and iron will, negotiating with the Borg for free passage across their space in return for aiding them in defeating their enemy, Species 8472. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01, was assigned as the Human female’s liaison, working with her as an intermediary to construct weapons powered by the nanoprobes altered by Janeway’s crew. The circumstances which drove Species 8472 back into fluidic space as well as the sudden, mental evolution of the Ocampa, Kes, left Voyager 10,000 light years closer to the Alpha Quadrant, and Seven severed from the Collective. Removed from everything she knew and understood, Seven was forced to adapt to this new life, this new ship, this new group of individuals, including the captain who had made the decision to take her along.

Originally she had hated Janeway for giving the order which cut her off from the Borg, despised the captain’s smallness, her individuality, infuriated by the woman who refused to let her go no matter how she fought. Seven’s implants had to be removed as her lost Humanity reasserted itself, and she had no choice but to eventually become a member of Voyager’s crew. As time went by, however, she grew to know the small redhead who emanated such tremendous presence, and her feelings toward Janeway gradually changed, becoming less antagonistic, and more accepting. Seven could not pinpoint when it was that those feelings progressed from acceptance to attraction, but they continued to evolve irrevocably into desire, and finally love. She only knew that Kathryn Janeway had somehow ended up returning that love; something for which she was profoundly grateful.

The two had embarked on a passionate, loving and mutually rewarding relationship. Both were highly intelligent, and very strong willed, yet somehow they complimented each other, settling into a comfortable domestic bliss which, at first glance, seemed out of character for both women. Their life together had become a constant that they cherished dearly in this life of perilous journeying through the Delta Quadrant.

Now, with one cruel stroke of fate, it could all end.

Seven felt her temples throb, tendrils of pain feathering through her forehead, and knew it was from the tension. She did not understand prayer, did not follow any religious or philosophical beliefs about a supreme creator, but she still found herself going around and around with one thought, a mental plea of anguish to whomever would listen.

Please, let her be all right. Please, let her live. I cannot exist without her.

Hours passed, and she remained where she was, infinitely patient, eyes staring straight ahead, sitting precisely erect in the chair, hands folded primly on her lap. When the doctor finally came in, she blinked and looked up at him expectantly.

“Chakotay is on his way down,” he said. putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’d prefer to wait until he arrives to go into the details, but I want to assure you, she will be fine physically.”

Seven closed her eyes, the only outward indication of the relief that flooded her body, so strong that she thought she might pass out. She waited until Chakotay arrived, then frowned at the Doctor, needing to know what would happen now.

“There is permanent damage,” the hologram said gravely. “I can’t tell exactly which particular pathways have been destroyed, but there is no question that her memory has been affected.”

Seven felt her heart thud irregularly in her chest as Chakotay let out his breath with a huff, a stricken look on his face. “You mean, she won’t remember who she is?” he asked.

“Possibly,” the Doctor said. “Or it may mean that only specific memories are available to be accessed. We won’t know until she wakes up, and that won’t be until tomorrow.” He put a comforting hand on Seven’s shoulder. “It would be best if you went back to your quarters.”

“No,” she said flatly. “I will stay with her.”

“Seven,” Chakotay reminded her gently. “Jake will need his dinner. You should eat something as well.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, honestly not knowing what he was talking about, then remembered the Irish Setter puppy she and the captain had acquired a few months earlier during a mission to an alternate reality. Despite the fact the dog had been meant for Janeway, given to her by her counterpart in that universe, it had fallen to Seven to be the animal’s primary caretaker. It was a responsibility she could not shirk, and she lowered her head in acceptance.

“I will be back as soon as I have cared for him,” she promised.

She exited sickbay, quickly making her way to her quarters. She was barely inside before the small animal plunged across the room with eager enthusiasm, skidding to a reckless stop at her feet. With no one to see, she scooped him up immediately, hugging him gently as she buried her face in his warm, red coat.

“Jake, Kathryn is badly hurt,” she told him with a quaver in her voice. “I do not know what to do.”

He whimpered a little, nuzzling her chin with his cool nose as if sensing her dismay, then licked her face firmly, comfortingly. She knew she was ascribing sentient characteristics to the puppy, but she still felt marginally better now that she was holding him. She cuddled him for a while, scratching his ears and allowing him to snuggle against her chest before finally putting him down on the deck. She was pleased to see that there were no new damp patches on the carpeting, and she hoped this meant he had finally learned how to utilize the special device she had created for him. She knew Kathryn would be pleased as well, and she felt sudden tears stinging the back of her eyes.

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, and went over to her work area where she carefully measured out Jake’s food, equal parts of dry and moist nutritional supplements which she placed in a big blue bowl which had the name ‘JAKE’ imprinted upon it in big silver letters. Janeway had utilized her precious equipment rations to replicate it, which had baffled Seven who knew that not only could Jake not read his name, he simply would not care if she dumped the food on the deck without any dish at all. When she pointed that out to the captain, however, Janeway had merely laughed and explained that she wanted Jake to know which dish was his in the event they acquired more dogs. That thought had given Seven such pause that she didn’t pursue the discussion any further.

She placed the bowl in the corner next to the large puppy bed, along with another dish containing clean, fresh water. Jake immediately raced over, and pounced on the meal as if he were starving, bolting his food so quickly that she had barely straightened before he had polished the dish clean, and was looking hopefully at her for more. Since she knew that was precisely the amount required for a dog his size, shape and breed, he was always disappointed, but he never stopped giving her the look as if by sheer persistence, she would one day surrender and give him more.

She was not hungry herself, but she knew she had to eat and she went over to the replicator. Since the captain was not here to share her dinner, she programmed the simple liquid supplement that had been the original organic food she had been required to ingest when first adapting to her humanity. She took it over to the couch, sat down, and began to drink it without enthusiasm.

Jake trotted over to her and put his paws on her knee, his jaws full of a rubber ball which he dropped onto her lap, trailing drool over the brown mesh outfit. She regarded it distastefully for a moment, then realized that he still required exercise even though Kathryn was not there to provide it. She picked up the slimy ball gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, and tossed it across the room. He tore after it eagerly, grabbing it up, shaking his head with a tiny growl before trotting proudly back to her where he repeated his previous action. She continued this until he indicated he was no longer interested, flopping down at her feet and ignoring her final toss, resting his head across her boots. She sighed, staring into the dim illumination of the room, trying to finish her supplement. When she had finally managed to swallow the last drop, she stood up, deposited the mug into the recycler and frowned at Jake.

“Do not get up on the couch,” she instructed in a warning tone.

She left the quarters and returned to sickbay. The hour had grown late, and the lights had been dimmed in the medical center. The Doctor looked up at his desk where he and Sek were working on the data files, but he made no objection as Seven found a chair and placed it beside the biobed containing her partner. The captain’s face was still pale, but seemed more peaceful, the sheet covering her to the shoulders which were bare. Seven noticed a small bruise discoloring the hollow of the captain’s collar bone and, after checking to make sure she was unobserved, leaned down and gently brushed over it with her lips. She did not honestly believe this action had any healing properties, but she needed to make the attempt just in case.

She took the long fingered hand resting limply on the bed, and held it tenderly between her own, warming it as she stared into the still, high-boned features of the captain. It was hours before there was any change in that elegant face, only the steady beep of the machines, and the faint whisper of respiration keeping Seven company on her silent vigil.

Finally, Kathryn’s eyes fluttered open, the blue-grey eyes unfocused momentarily before they cleared to look directly at Seven. There was a long pause as they searched her face.

“Who,” Janeway rasped in utter confusion, “the hell are you?”

Captain Kathryn Janeway blinked foggily at the Doctor who had pushed the strange woman aside and frowned. “Doctor, what happened?” she demanded, wincing as she felt the pain feather from her temples.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he replied in a noncommittal tone, answering her question with another. He peered into her eyes with an instrument, then checked the other equipment which seemed to be keeping her head immobile, before finally removing most of it.

As he took away the devices framing her head, she searched her mind, trying to remember what had happened to send her to sickbay. It was hard to think, her thoughts jumbled and unclear, but that could be expected if she had been struck in the head. Clearly, there was some sort of injury that was making things confused. She forced herself to calm down, allowing the analytical part of her brain to retrace her most recent memories.

There had been a shuttle crash. She had seemed to die several times as an entity impersonating the spirit of her father attempted to steal her essence. It had been a trying experience, and she had been relieved to spend a few hours with Chakotay in the holodeck. The moonlight sail on Lake George to celebrate the successful finish to the mission was the last thing she remembered. Perhaps she had drank a little too much of the wine he had produced but still, it wouldn’t have been enough to make her clumsy, nor should it have caused a blackout. Perhaps she just wasn’t as recovered from her ordeal as she had thought.

“Chakotay and I were on an away mission when the Sacajuea crashed, and an alien matrix attempted to take over my soul,” she said slowly. “However, I thought you had given me a clean bill of health for that.”

She couldn’t read his expression. “I did,” he allowed. “Can you tell me the Stardate, Captain?”

“50519,” she responded readily.

He made a few adjustments to the tricorder a woman handed him, and Janeway felt a real qualm as she realized she did not recognize her any more than she had the other woman, the tall, slender blonde who had been at her bedside when she woke up. That young woman who sported the oddest metallic accessories on her face, was now standing a few feet away, an expression of utter devastation in her pale eyes. Janeway wondered why and for an instant, she had an urge to reach out and comfort her somehow.

The door to sickbay hissed open and she was relieved to see her first officer enter, the familiar tattoo over his left eye crinkling as he smiled at her.

“Captain,” he said, with evident pleasure. “You’re all right.”

“I think so,” she replied, smiling warmly at him. For a moment, she had felt very out of place but the sight of Chakotay, his steady, dark eyes and solid manner comforted her, reminded her who and where she was. “Though the Doctor seems less certain.”

Chakotay glanced at him curiously and the Doctor frowned. “She believes it is 50519,” he said shortly.

Chakotay started, then frowned, looking at her. She started to feel uneasy again, which caused a flare of anger to spark within. Making an effort, she curbed her annoyance, and regarded her first officer evenly. “What’s wrong here?” she demanded, her voice laced with command.

“There was an accident, Captain,” Chakotay said gently. “You’ve been unconscious.”

“The ship?” she said, half sitting. The Doctor and the fair-haired woman pressed her back down onto the bed.

“The ship is fine,” Chakotay said hastily. “B’Elanna is going over her findings even as we speak.”

“I’ll want a full report on my desk by the end of the day,” she said, rising again.

“Captain, please, lay back,” the woman insisted, hands gentle on the captain’s shoulders.

Startled, Janeway looked at her. That had been Kes’s voice, and now that she was looking closer, the woman’s features were similiar, but aged, and the ears were Human, not Ocampan. “Kes?” she said hesitantly. Her face hardened abruptly and she glared at the men. “What’s going on here?”

“Captain, you’ve experienced a loss of memory,” the Doctor said gently. “Sek?” He looked significantly at the woman who nodded, and went over to the tall blonde, urging her outside. At first, the statuesque woman resisted, then a few words in her ear, too low for Janeway to hear, apparently convinced her to go with Sek. Janeway was disturbed by the look the young woman gave her over her shoulder as she left sickbay, however.

“Are those new crewmembers?” she said, having noted that both were wearing comm badges though neither had been in uniform. She refocused her attention on the Doctor. “Are they part of what I forgotten?”

“It seems so,” he admitted.

“How much have I lost?”

The Doctor hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m not sure yet,” he said, and for some reason, she thought he was evading her question, but decided his program would not allow that sort of thing. “I need to run some more tests to determine which memories have been rendered inaccessible.”

“I see,” she said, not allowing the fear that had suddenly shot through her to appear in her face. “Is this permanent?”

“Again,” the Doctor said. “I’m not sure. Hopefully the test results will be able to determine if the neural sequencers can regenerate. Also, in some cases, spontaneous generation of alternate brain pathways have occurred, allowing the mind to access the memories once more.”

“What happens if neither of those possibilities occur?” Janeway asked sharply.

“Then, those memories will be gone permanently,” the Doctor said plainly. “We’ll take it from there.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I appreciate your candor, Doctor,” she said. She looked at Chakotay and forced a small smile. “I guess the ship is yours for the next few days.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” he promised, moving closer to place his hand warmly on her shoulder. “Voyager will be waiting for you when you’re up and around again.”

Suddenly exhausted, she relaxed against the biobed. “I’m tired,” she said. “Is that normal?”

“It is symptomatic of your condition,” the Doctor assured. “Sleep will help you recover from your other injuries, and I can run the tests after you wake. Don’t try to fight it, Captain. Let your body heal.”

She did not necessarily like it, but the fact was, she did feel as if she had been ejected from a plasma vent. She wondered briefly about the specifics of the accident which had hurt her, then realized that her crew was probably taking care of it. Until Janeway had recovered a little more, she could do little to help them. She had to believe that Voyager was in good hands. Wearily, she felt her eyes slip shut, and gratefully, she slipped into the welcoming darkness.

Seven of Nine paced animatedly back and forth in the small conference room where Sek had taken her. Kathryn was clearly confused, and Seven understood that her presence was not helping, but the thought did not make her feel any better. Her heart spasmed painfully as she remembered the blue-grey eyes which had looked at her without recognition, without the caring and love she had come to know and expect.

Kathryn does not know who I am, she thought wretchedly. She believes it is Stardate 50519 which was almost three years ago. Could she have forgotten everything since that time, including our love? How can that be?

Sek sat quietly in a chair, though as a hologram, she did not need to rest. She reached out a hand and interrupted Seven’s pacing. “Seven, the Doctor will be able to help her,” she said soothingly.

“Will he help her remember me?” Seven responded uncertainly.

“He will do what’s best for his patient,” Sek responded, rather noncommittedly.

Seven shook off the hand and resumed her pacing. The Doctor was far from fallible even for a technical being, especially when it came to emotional issues. This was purely an emotional issue as far as she was concerned. She looked up as the door opened, and Chakotay entered.

“How is she?” she asked anxiously.

“She’s okay, Seven,” he said, but couldn’t meet her eyes. “Physically. The Doctor seemed to think that bringing her up to date slowly would be the best approach. In the meantime, he wants both you and Sek to stay away, at least until he knows how bad this is.”

Seven groped for a chair, sat down heavily. “I am not allowed to see her?” she said in a tiny voice.

“I’m sorry, Seven,” he said compassionately. “It’s just for the time being. Once we know exactly how much memory loss she has, and how quickly she can adapt to learning the events of the past few years, we can all decide together the best way to tell her … about you.”

Seven didn’t like it, but if it were for Kathryn’s well being … she swallowed and nodded. “I will comply,” she said unhappily.

“Thank you,” he said soberly, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I know this is hard on you. Both B’Elanna and I are available if you need to talk. You know that.”

“I do,” she allowed, managing a bit of gratitude which she injected into her voice. She looked around uncertainly. “I suppose I must go and care for Jake. It is time for his breakfast.”

“That’s a good idea,” he said. “And Seven?” She met his eyes bleakly. “Work helps,” he added quietly. “It’ll give you something else to concentrate on.”

“I understand,” she said faintly. “I will report to the astrometrics lab later this morning.”

She stood up, feeling lost as she left the conference room, heading for her quarters, though without Kathryn, it was the absolute last place she wanted to be.

Captain Janeway stood in the middle of sickbay, and frowned mightily at the Doctor, arms across her chest, ignoring the fact that she was clad only in a sheet. Her head was lowered so that her eyes glared darkly from beneath her brow, and one bare foot tapped impatiently.

“I won’t ask you again, Doctor,” she said, her voice at its lowest, most dangerous level. “Find me a uniform.”

“Captain, please,” he said with an annoyed expression of his own. “You are simply not ready to be released.”

“Physically, I’m perfectly fine,” she retorted. “You said that yourself. As for the rest, I understand perfectly that I’ve lost the past three years, but the mission logs are doing a fine job at catching me up on what I’m missing. I can read those in my ready room as easily as I can here. Besides, it is past time for me to retake command of my ship. I haven’t forgotten how to be a captain, after all.”

“I need to keep you here for observation,” he protested. “There are things in the logs which could be … upsetting.”

“I’m sure there are,” Janeway said without any expression at all. “However, I assure you, Doctor, if the thought that I had actually made an alliance with the Borg … with the Federation’s greatest enemy … and that one of them now serve as my astrometrics officer, didn’t unduly upset me, then I truly doubt that there is much that would.”

“Captain, you are only catching up on the history of the past three years,” he said, and now there was a touch of desperation in his voice. “The facts of the events only. You are not being exposed to the emotional repercussions regarding everything that happened.”

“I am perfectly capable of handling my own emotions, Doctor,” she said firmly. She took a deep breath and gentled her voice, looking at him with understanding. “I know that I may never really remember the past three years as anything more than something I’ve read from a mission log. I can deal with that possibility, but I can’t do it while I’m going stir crazy in sickbay. Get me my uniform. Let me get back to work. Please.”

The Doctor glared at her, and Janeway returned it evenly, not budging an inch. She realized that his program had progressed somewhat in the past three years, that he was more forceful, more dynamic, more … sentient, than she remembered, but that didn’t mean she was going to start backing down. After all, she was still the captain.

He abruptly let out his breath with a gigantic sigh … unnecessary since he didn’t need to breathe … as he finally gave in. With an ungracious frown, he keyed the controls of the nearby replicator, materializing a red and black uniform. The pips and comm badge he retrieved from a compartment where they had been placed, probably just after her accident. He handed it all to her, and nodded at his office.

“You can darken the window,” he said sourly.

“I remember,” she said with some asperity, and triumphantly strode into the room. She programmed the transparency to one way only, allowing her to look out though no one could look in, and quickly divested herself of the sheet. She pulled on her uniform, watching narrowly as the Doctor keyed his comm badge and talked at length to someone, though she was unable to guess what he might be saying.

Warning Chakotay I’m on the loose, probably, she thought wickedly. Well, she wasn’t heading for the bridge just yet, anyway.

Though she refused to show it, the past few days had left her shaken, as if the very ground beneath her feet had suddenly opened. She needed to return to the privacy of her quarters, spend a little time going over her personal logs regarding everything she couldn’t remember, sure that her own words about how she had felt during each mission would trigger something. Any emotional repercussions that might occur were something that she was sure she could handle quite nicely on her own, without anyone having to observe her.

She breezed out of the room, surprising the Doctor who was unprepared for how quickly she had dressed. Honestly, she thought, he should know that the one thing a captain becomes good at is how to get into uniform fast. It was a skill much needed when one could be called to the bridge at any time, including such inopportune moments like taking a bath.

That was the one thing she was looking forward to. A nice, long, hot bubble bath in her own tub, which was her absolute favorite way to unwind after a hard day. According to her calculations, this bath was going to handle three years of hard days. She swept past the Doctor before he could object, and exited sickbay, heading for her quarters. It would be good to be in familiar surroundings, she thought. Stuck in a biobed was hardly the way to get her life back under control.

The first thing she saw when she walked into her quarters was a red ball of hair rocketing toward her with loud yips of joy. She automatically reached down and caught it before realizing what it actually was, looking down into the panting puppy face of an Irish Setter with astonishment.

“Where did you come from?” she asked in pleased surprise, stroking the tiny head gently. Maybe the doctor had a point, she allowed dryly. There were a few things the mission logs don’t address, and since she had yet to access the last group immediately preceding her accident, there had been no warning that pets were now allowed on Voyager.

She checked his collar, reading the name ‘Jake’ etched across the little gold tag, which also sported the Starfleet insignia. She thought about it, decided that was exactly the sort of thing she would name a dog and grinned at him. “Well,” she said. “It seems you know me, even if I’m not too sure about you.”

She looked up, and for the first time, realized that nothing was familiar in her quarters after all. There were some identifiable pieces of furniture, her couch, some chairs, a few decorative touches here and there, but the rest of her living space had been changed completely. The living area now bordered the six foot long windows lining the hull, and she raised an eyebrow as she regarded the cordoned off area in front of the replicator, an ‘L’ shaped counter making where the table had once stood into a small food preparation area. The dining table under the window facing her was much smaller than the one she remembered, round instead of rectangular.

Since when do my quarters boast a kitchen? she thought fretfully. When did any ship’s quarters include a kitchen?

Jake squirmed in her arms, and reluctantly she put him down, the small pup loping off towards the bedroom. She frowned as she made a circuit around the room, her eye caught by two tiny statues adorning one of the ledges next to the couch, and she regarded them uneasily. They were unquestionably the ugliest things she had ever seen, and it occurred to her that her taste in artwork had plummeted somewhat in the last few years.

Then she noticed the two workstations sitting back to back on the other side of the room where once only a single desk had been, and with a jolt, she realized that these quarters had been altered to provide for two people. The thought made her weak in the knees, and she stared uncertainly at the area. There were no personal touches to the other desk to indicate who it belonged to, though she easily recognized her own. The console sported a holder for a coffee mug, and a small ornament from a planet she had been on during her very first tour of duty as a Starfleet officer sat on the glass top where it always had. However, the image of Mark which used to be there was quite noticeable in its absence.

She blanched as a stray thought crossed her mind. Ohmigod, shared quarters? A kitchen? Surely that can’t mean … am I now living with … Neelix? She immediately stifled that as being entirely too weird.

In the far corner, next to the work station, she saw what was clearly the puppy’s area. There was a big doggy bed set against the hull, just outside the door leading into the bedroom. A few toys were scattered about, and an empty food dish lay on its side. Another dish, half full of water, was surrounded by a wet patch where it had spilled, while a few feet away, tucked discreetly behind a small group of hedgelike plants, she saw a flat, rectangular device. It measured approximately a half meter wide and a meter long, with a lip running along the perimeter. She studied it with her best scientific and engineering judgment, and still had no clue what it was for.

Jake returned from whatever he had been up to in the bedroom, and brushed through the plants, lumbering up onto the device. He darted a glance at her, the half-embarrassed look dogs get when they perform certain bodily functions, and proceeded to perform one. Startled, Janeway watched as he turned around, sniffed it, then loped off. Once his weight had cleared the device, it glowed green and dematerialized the waste, leaving no hint that it had ever existed.

How incredibly clever, Janeway noted with amazement. It certainly solved the obvious problem of having a dog on the ship. She wondered who had thought of it.

She drifted over to the kitchenette, curious about an area that she could never conceive herself using. On a shelf behind the counter, there was plate of brownies, covered with a stasis wrap. She hesitated, glanced around covertly, then gingerly took one of the sweets and bit into it. She was astounded to find that it tasted exactly like the ones her mother used to make. She hadn’t actually managed to replicate that recipe successfully, had she? Greedily, she ate two more, and then, licking her fingers, she strolled across the living area and peered through the door leading to the bedroom.

She didn’t remember the bed being that large, or having that oddly twisted metal rod installed on the headboard. She wondered what it was for and she stood for long moments in the doorway, staring at it blankly as she tried to figure it out.

The outer door to the corridor abruptly hissed open and she whirled, shocked to see the Borg woman enter. She seemed taller than Janeway remembered from that brief glimpse she had caught in sickbay a few days ago, and much more constrained. Her expression was impassive, and she tilted her head slightly as she saw Janeway, linking her hands behind her back. A metallic grey implant framed her left eye, while a small, star shaped device adorned her right cheek where jawbone met ear. Her blonde hair was done up in an austere bun, and her eyes were a chilling ice blue, granting her a severe demeanor. Janeway thought she was one of the more intimidating people she had ever seen, and immediately, a sense of contrariness rose in her.

“Captain,” the intruder greeted politely.

Janeway put her hands on her hips, searching her memory for the name. “Seven of Nine, isn’t it?” she replied coolly, giving her irritation full rein. She flicked a glance at the door. “Are you in the habit of entering my quarters unannounced?”

The Borg hesitated. “Yes,” she replied finally.

Stymied by the answer, Janeway stared at her. “Do you want something?” she asked sharply.

“The Doctor informed me that you had been discharged from sickbay,” the Borg replied. Her voice was remarkably without inflection, Janeway noted, as if every word, every syllable, was carefully chosen and thought about before it was uttered.

“And?” Janeway prodded irritably.

“I wished to be present while you familiarized yourself with your quarters,” Seven of Nine said.

Janeway, about to ask why, instead took a breath, forcing down her annoyance. Clearly she was missing something here. She watched as Jake barreled up to the woman, but unlike how he had greeted her, the puppy skidded to a stop and sat down in front of Seven of Nine, looking at her intently. The blonde woman gazed at him briefly, then made a small gesture with her hand which he promptly obeyed, racing off as if freed from a leash.

“Is he … is he your dog?” the captain asked uncertainly.

“He is our dog,” Seven of Nine replied.

“‘Our’ dog?” Janeway raised her chin slightly. “The ship’s dog, you mean.”

“No, I mean that he is ours, yours and mine,” Seven of Nine insisted evenly.

Janeway considered this. So that was what the woman was getting at. “These are also your quarters, correct?” she asked.

The ice blue eyes seemed to warm perceptively. “Did you remember that?” the Borg said, and now there was just the slightest hint of inflection, a tiny excitement.

“No, I guessed it,” Janeway said, oddly disappointed when she saw the light go out of those pale eyes. “These quarters are now designed for two people.” She felt very nervous suddenly, and she found a seat on the couch to hide the weakness in her knees. “Have we become so crowded that we need to double up on space?”

Seven of Nine was silent for a moment, apparently trying to think of a delicate way to answer that. When she did, her voice was impossibly gentle, a marked contrast to the cool, aloof demeanor. “We share these quarters because we share a personal relationship,” she said.

Janeway folded her hands carefully onto her lap. “We’re friends,” she said slowly, still trying to avoid what was right in front of her. After all, there had only been one bed in the bedroom. One large bed.

Seven of Nine raised her head a little. “We are friends,” she agreed. “We are also more than that.”

Janeway felt flutters in her stomach. “I see,” she said faintly. “That’s why the doctor contacted you. Some of the emotional repercussions that the missions logs don’t reveal.”

“Yes,” Seven of Nine agreed. “It was decided that when you reached this stage, I would be the one to help you through these discoveries.” Her head dipped and her eyes seemed to grow darker. “I insisted that I be the one to help you through this time,” she elaborated.

“Oh,” Janeway said weakly. She searched for something to say. “How long have we been … intimate?”

“Two hundred and three days,” Seven of Nine responded promptly.

Janeway spent a few moments processing that as the other woman waited patiently. “Almost a year,” the captain said softly, half in disbelief. She looked up at the woman. “I don’t remember it.”

“I know,” Seven of Nine said, and suddenly Janeway could see the anguish in the eyes, hear it flavor ever so slightly the tone of the controlled voice. Not so much the unemotional drone after all, she thought with compassion.

“I’m sorry,” the captain said slowly “Believe me, Seven of Nine, if we have been in a relationship, I truly wish I remembered it. Especially since it has been so long that … ” She chose not to finish the thought, unsure as to where she was going with it.

“It is not your fault,” the Borg said. She paused, then changed the subject slightly. “My regular designation amongst the crew is ‘Seven’ rather than Seven of Nine. You also call me that while we are on duty.”

A flash of humor shone through the dark morass of uncertainty the captain found herself in. “What do I call you when we’re off duty?”

“Annika,” Seven replied. “Annika Hansen was my Human designation before I was assimilated. You are the only one who calls me that on a regular basis.”

Janeway nodded. “Okay, Annika,” she said carefully. “Apparently we have a bit of a problem here. I have yet to access my personal logs, and I really don’t have any knowledge or memory about this relationship of ours.”

The Borg seemed to deflate slightly, and she moved over to sit in the chair, angling her body to face the captain, posture erect, knees perfectly aligned, hands linked formally on her lap. “I understand,” she said quietly. She frowned, apparently trying to choose her words deliberately. “The Doctor believes that it is possible that certain of your memories will return over time. He also believes that if we attempt to continue our life together as if everything were normal, at least for a little while, that it may help trigger something. Of course, I realize that this is uncomfortable for you, and I will help in any way I can. I do not expect that everything will be as it was. You will require space to adapt.”

It sounded like a speech, one that had been prepared well ahead of time, and Seven seemed unable to look Janeway directly in the eyes while reciting it. The captain turned it over in her mind, frowning briefly as she considered the implications.

“I see,” Janeway said finally in a quiet voice. “You want to continue to live here with me.”

Seven nodded. “Yes,” she said. The was no plea in her tone, but the captain realized that the woman did not want to be sent away. Yet, Janeway didn’t know if she liked this. It seemed too much to absorb at one time.

“If I disagree?” she said, not unkindly. “What will you do if I don’t want to share these quarters with you?”

She was sure she saw the woman flinch, then Seven visibly steadied herself, seeming to draw on some hidden core of strength.

“In that event, I shall move out,” Seven replied evenly. Her eyes met Janeway’s squarely, and her voice softened. “I love you, Kathryn. I will do whatever you require me to.”

Janeway hadn’t expected that, hadn’t anticipated the words stated so plainly, the power of them which impacted like a fist to her abdomen. She studied the other woman closely, as she sought to regain her composure. As she did, she began to see things which had not been apparent on her first perusal, the warmth that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface of those ice-blue eyes, the gentleness of the hand which rested on Jake who had taken the opportunity to lay his head against her leg. The pup clearly adored Seven, and Janeway was a big believer in the instincts of dogs.

As well as her own instincts.

For whatever reason, her fingers were tingling which had always been a definite sign of attraction. It seemed that even if Janeway didn’t remember it, her body knew she had shared something very special with this woman.

“All right, you can stay here,” Janeway allowed with a bit of a sigh. “You’re probably right in saying that the quicker things get back to a ‘normal’ routine, the sooner my memories, if any, will return.”

“Thank you,” Seven said, and Janeway got the sense there was a wealth of meaning behind what would otherwise be only a polite utterance.

They looked at each other for a few moments, then Janeway nodded at the dog, deciding it would be the safest topic. “Where did he come from?” she asked.

“A few months ago, you and I were transported to an alternate reality,” Seven explained. “There, Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant two years earlier, and your counterpart made the puppy a gift to us upon our return. He is apparently the offspring of a dog named Molly Malone.”

“One of Molly’s puppies?” she said with delight. “That was nice of me.”

“I am unsure of the benevolence of the gesture,” Seven said coolly. “Since I am the one who is required to feed and train it. Your duties as captain keep you away from your quarters very often.”

Janeway eyed her. “I see,” she said quietly. “You resent that.”

Seven seemed startled. “No,” she replied. She hesitated, then blushed. “Sometimes I make it seem as if I am unhappy to have him as a part of our family group, but that is deceptive on my part. I am sorry.”

Janeway blinked, having received a whole lot more information than she had expected, not to mention the sight of Seven blushing which seemed odd for the cool woman. She had to be careful about the questions she asked, the captain thought. For both their sakes.

“I’m sure that I already suspected that,” she offered after an awkward pause.

Seven regarded her. “I believe you did,” she agreed.

Janeway tried to control the adrenalin rushing through her, wishing that she didn’t feel so uneasy. “So, it’s about 1800 hours,” she offered with forced cheer. “What would I … would we … be normally doing at this time?”

Seven brightened. “Your duty shift would be now complete,” she replied, and there was a warmth in her tone, faint but very detectable. “As would mine in astrometrics. Normally I arrive here first since you tend to work over, but in recent times you have made a decided effort to return to your quarters in a timely manner.”

“All right,” Janeway encouraged. “Then what?”

“You have a glass of wine while I prepare dinner,” Seven said. “We talk about our day. We eat the food I have prepared. After dinner, you play with Jake while I clean up. We go into the living area, and talk again until it is time for us to retire for the evening. We make love, then you go to sleep. I watch you sleep for approximately fifteen minutes, then I also go to sleep.”

Well, I asked, Janeway thought dazedly. “Every night?” she asked dryly.

“The routine varies depending on external circumstances,” Seven admitted. “Sometimes there is work requiring our attention and it must be finished. Sometimes we can not leave our posts because there is a crisis. Sometimes we have guests for dinner. Sometimes you play with Jake for most of the evening. Sometimes we argue instead of discussing things rationally. Sometimes we dance. Sometimes we go out for the evening. Sometimes we make love on the couch. Sometimes we…”

“I get the point,” Janeway interrupted, holding up her hands in surrender. “There’s a lot I have to catch up on. It does sound like a very nice life, however,” she added wistfully.

“You have indicated that it is a most satisfying routine,” Seven offered gently.

Janeway’s lips twitched, then she studied her hands. “You say you prepare dinner,” she said. “You program the replicator?”

“Sometimes,” Seven said slowly. “Frequently, I prepare dishes from raw materials.”

Janeway had suspected that, having seen the kitchenette. “My mother is a Traditionalist,” she said quietly. “She also prepared meals from scratch.”

Seven started to speak, hesitated as if considering her words, then merely nodded instead. There was more there, Janeway suspected. A lot more, if this woman who seemed so willing to lay all her cards on the table had chosen to check what she had been about to say. Well, Janeway thought tiredly, she supposed she would find out soon enough.

Seven tilted her head. “Would you care for a glass of wine?” she asked.

“I believe I would prefer a whiskey and soda,” Janeway said dryly.

About a gallon would do at this point, she thought.

Seven quickly stood up and went over to the replicator, programing in the captain’s drink and returning with it to where the woman sat quietly on the couch.

Janeway looked surprised as she took it, gazing up at her searchingly. “Thank you,” she said formally.

“I will prepare dinner,” Seven told her, not only because it was that time, but because at the moment, she desperately needed something to keep her busy. She could also see that Janeway was becoming progressively uneasy, the confusion growing in her eyes with every discovery.

We have to go slowly, Seven reminded herself. All of this was new to the captain, and the Doctor had told her that Janeway might never remember everything, She had to treat the captain as if she had come forward through time, had never lived the experiences which had led to this moment. For all intents and purposes, that was exactly what had happened.

She keyed in directions for some protein, vegetables and mushrooms, placing them all on her counter after they materialized. She was aware of Janeway observing her closely, but she tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if this were just another day. She carefully did not notice when the captain got up and moved over to the counter, perching on a stool that the captain always favored during this time.

Seven concentrated on slicing the protein and vegetables into strips before retrieving her wok from its compartment. She poured a dollop of oil in, and as she waited for it to heat, she sliced the mushrooms. Once the strips of chicken-flavored protein were sizzling in the wok, she quickly prepared Jake’s supper, taking it over to his area. She wished he didn’t eat so fast, but it seemed to be part of his genetic makeup. She washed her hands before returning to her counter, stirring the protein in the oil, making sure it was cooked thoroughly as she added various spices; ginger, garlic and seasonings.

Janeway had been watching this with the intensity of a scientist observing a specimen in its natural environment, sipping at her drink now and again. “Can I help with anything?” Janeway asked suddenly.

Startled, Seven glanced at her. “You do not like to cook,” she said.

Amusement touched the blue-grey eyes. “No, I don’t,” the captain admitted. “I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”

Seven took a breath. “It is more efficient if you do not assist,” she said gravely.

Janeway’s lips twitched. “When I try to help, I’m in the way,” she translated. She paused. “I gather we’ve had this conversation.”

“On two occasions,” Seven allowed.

Janeway smiled, and took another sip from her glass, seeming to be more relaxed now. Perhaps that was due to the alcoholic content of her drink, Seven allowed to herself. She did not necessarily approve, but she appreciated the medicinal properties of the drug. It was also possible that the routine Seven was imposing, was providing a subconscious relaxation for the captain as her body repeated things it had experienced many times before. The Doctor had told her that the captain’s reflexes would retain their imprinting. As an example, he used Velocity. Though Janeway had learned the game after the time her memories stopped, she would probably still be the best player on the ship once the rules were explained to her. The body did not forget in this case.

Seven added the vegetables, then cast a glance at Janeway. “It would be helpful if you would set the table,” she suggested gently. “The dishes and utensils are in the recycler under the replicator.”

“I can do that,” the captain said, seeming relieved to have something to occupy her.

Seven tried to imagine how it would be if she had forgotten her life with Kathryn, what things the captain would do in the attempt to make her remember, but her imagination was simply not that extensive at this level of her development. She would just have to think of everything the Doctor had told her, and try to apply his suggestions whenever possible. The rest of the time, Seven would just have to give the captain time and space to adapt to the situation.

She noticed that Janeway had set the table in the same manner she always had. The table was large enough for four, but Janeway had placed the dishes and utensils in their regular place settings. Additionally, when the captain sat down, it was in the same chair she always used, her back to the wall with the window so she could see the door, with Seven apparently expected to sit across from her. Perfectly normal. Seven had to remember that it was simply more of Janeway’s body patterns, not an indication of her memory returning.

She stirred the last of the chicken and vegetables, covered it, then replicated the rice. She carried both large dishes over and placed them on the table before sitting down. She noted that Janeway had immediately served herself, reaching out eagerly for the spoon. More imprinting, the Borg decided.

“This is remarkable,” Janeway said with surprise, as she gingerly took a bite. She favored Seven with a look. “I didn’t realize cooking was a Borg attribute.”

“It is not,” Seven replied evenly, though the comment had stung. It was not the captain’s fault she no longer knew what was sensitive to her partner, Seven reminded herself. “I learned to cook … recently. I find it very relaxing and satisfying as a creative endeavor.”

Janeway looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t looked at it that way,” she admitted. She paused. “I found some brownies. Yours?”

“I recreated your mother’s recipe,” Seven said carefully. “It was very gratifying to me that you felt I succeeded.”

“You did,” Janeway said. She ate a bit more of her meal. “My mother liked to cook. I never understood why. I never got around to asking.” Her voice had saddened at the last.

“Gretchen understood,” Seven said, before she could prevent the words.

Janeway looked at her sharply. “Indeed,” she said flatly, and Seven understood that the captain had found it presumptuous that this stranger would comment on her mother.

“A few months ago,” Seven explained slowly. “A device transported Commander Chakotay, Lt. Torres and myself to the Alpha Quadrant. I met your mother and sister there.”

Janeway stared at her. “Why did you come back?” she asked.

“The Alpha Quadrant is not my home,” Seven said honestly. “Voyager is. Also, both the Commander and B’Elanna felt uncomfortable with having returned to the Alpha Quadrant while the rest of Voyager’s crew could not. We utilized the device to return here before it was completely drained of its transporting capability, and returned with a significant amount of equipment and personal items for the crew.” She looked down at her plate, toying with her rice. “Gretchen taught me the basics of cooking while Phoebe taught me how to brew her special blend of coffee. I believe they wished to send something of home back to you, and this was their way of doing it.”

There was silence for a long time before Seven dared to raise her eyes to Janeway’s. The captain had a stricken expression, one of utter loss, and inadvertently, Seven reached over and touched her hand. Just as quickly, she withdrew it, and Janeway looked down at her plate.

“I am truly sorry to have forgotten that,” she said huskily.

Seven searched for something to say. “They also sent logs for you to see,” she offered. “You can view them again.”

“There are a lot of logs I haven’t accessed yet,” Janeway replied, after taking a few seconds to compose herself. “Some of the most recent mission logs, all my personal ones … I’m hoping they will … trigger something.”

“Perhaps they will,” Seven said. “One must always have hope.”

“What if they don’t?” Janeway asked sharply, meeting her eyes challengingly. “What if I never remember the last three years? What if I never remember you?”

Seven met her eyes squarely. “That would be unacceptable,” she said, in an utterly determined voice.

Janeway seemed startled, then to Seven’s surprise and gratitude, the captain grinned that half-smile, humor curling the corner of her mouth. “I’m starting to think that you never let me get away with much,” Janeway said wryly.

Seven considered that. It was a potentially loaded statement, and one she had to handle with care. “You have indicated that part of your attraction to me is a result of me treating you as an individual rather than as a rank,” Seven said. “Even in the beginning when I did not like you very much.”

“So it wasn’t love at first sight on your part?” Janeway said sardonically.

Seven flinched at the tone but she tried not to attach too much importance to it. “No,” she said quietly. “It was not.”

Janeway seemed to feel she had gone as far as she dared on this topic, and she nodded briefly, concentrating on her meal once again. Seven followed her lead, and the rest of their dinner was consumed in silence. As Seven stood up to clear the dishes, she noticed that Janeway had developed the lost expression in her eyes once again.

“Jake requires exercise,” Seven reminded her gently. “That is part of your contribution to his care.”

“Certainly,” Janeway said, standing up hastily.

Seven kept her back to the room as she worked, and for a time, everything was exactly as it should be. She could hear Janeway talking with the dog, hear his happy yips, hear the thumps and thuds as they romped in the living area. If she stopped thinking about the situation, she could believe, just for these precious moments, that everything was normal. She tidied her area, then poured wine for the captain and herself. By that time, Janeway was seated on the couch, and Jake was stretched out happily on his back at her feet as she rubbed his tummy, his jaws split in an ecstatic puppy grin.

“Thank you,” Janeway said as she accepted the glass Seven offered her.

Seven hesitated, then took a seat in the chair set at right angles to the couch. She longed to be sitting next to Kathryn as she normally would be, her arm wrapped warmly around her shoulders, Janeway’s head resting on her chest. This separation felt like when they were arguing, apart and cold, but Seven understood that she had to maintain a certain amount of distance in the beginning. It would take days, she knew, possibly weeks. It was not even entirely out of the question that it could even take months, but she was prepared to take as long as she needed. She would not give up on Kathryn.

“So,” Janeway said, somewhat uncertainly, “I suppose I should take a look at those logs.” She did not seem enthusiastic about the idea, and Seven wondered if she was apprehensive about what she might find.

“It is not required that you be updated all in one day,” Seven noted quietly. Not a suggestion, merely an observation.

Janeway nodded. “I suppose you’re right,” she said with a sort of relief. She sipped at her wine, made an appreciative face. “This is very good.” She flicked a glance at Seven’s glass. “You like wine?”

Janeway had taught Seven to appreciate the flavor of the beverage during the earliest part of their relationship, but the younger woman sensed that Kathryn had about all the information about her past that she could take for the moment, and was looking for a topic that was neutral. Seven had researched the subject of wine quite thoroughly, and knew she could discuss it intelligently. She began to speak about the bouquet of the vintage, and the planet on which it had been discovered. They talked about wine for some time, then switched to other topics that Seven was careful not to associate with their status as a couple. Until finally, it was the time Seven had been dreading, but quite aware that she had to expect.

“I suppose it’s time I headed for bed,” Janeway said delicately. “I don’t want to put you out…”

“I intend to sleep on the couch,” Seven said calmly.

“You don’t have to do that,” Janeway said quickly. “I can sleep on it. These are your quarters as well.”

Seven took a breath. “Your sleep patterns are irregular at the best of times,” she explained in a logical voice. “It is better for you to take the bed. I will be quite comfortable on the couch.”

Janeway wanted to argue the point, Seven saw, but suddenly seemed too weary of it all, and merely nodded instead. Seven’s heart went out to her, but she remained impassive, standing with her hands linked behind her as the captain went into the bedroom. The door slid shut with a finality that sliced through the young woman’s heart, and miserably, Seven undressed and retrieved some Starfleet issued pyjamas from a compartment which also contained bedding and linens. She had been anticipating this, and had made the proper preparations, but it did not make her feel any better to have to experience it.

She made up the couch quickly, and slipped into it, staring bleakly up at the ceiling. What if Janeway never remembered their love? What if everything she could do was not enough, and Janeway never again found that special bond they had shared? Seven felt tears fill her eyes, and she bit her lip to stifle the sob in her throat. She did not want the captain to hear her.

Jake trotted over and heaved his paws onto the edge of the couch, pushing his head under her arm as he nosed her side with puppy concern. Before she realized what she was doing, Seven had lifted him onto the couch beside her, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his warm coat which muffled her weeping. The dog whimpered but remained still, more to make sure that he got to stay up on the couch where he normally wasn’t allowed, than out of any understanding of what she was going through, Seven was sure, but she could not deny that it made her feel better to hug him as he cuddled against her.

When sleep finally came to her, his warmth was a soothing presence that comforted her enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

Janeway stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered if she would ever lose the disoriented expression which was shading her eyes to gray. She had responded several times on a purely physical level during the evening, acting without thinking. When she did stop to think, she would ask herself why she had just set the table a certain way or why, when Seven had sat opposite her in the living area, she had sensed that was wrong, anticipating the warmth at her side rather than so far away. She could not remember Seven, but there was still something about her, something undefinable, yet undeniably attractive about her.

Janeway took a breath and dropped her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she saw the imperfection in the counter next to the sink. Frowning, she bent closer and examined what appeared to be four parallel groves on the top of the counter with one below, unsure as to what kind of ship stress would cause that sort of damage to the material. It was completely beyond her scientific ken, and she wondered why she had not contacted ship’s maintenance to repair it, then decided that perhaps it had happened recently, and she had not had the chance.

She put on a nightgown, realizing that she hadn’t taken the bath she had planned. At least the bathtub with its accessories were still the same, and she promised herself that she would definitely have one the next evening. She cleaned her teeth and went into the bedroom, crawling into the big bed and taking up a position in the center of it, curling around a pillow. There was a faint scent on the linens, one that danced tantalizingly along her mind’s edge, and sleep stubbornly eluded her as she tossed and turned restlessly. At one point, she discovered she was staring straight up, and it took her a few minutes to understand that it was her reflection she was seeing there on the ceiling.

What the hell would possess me to have a mirror put up there?

She decided she shouldn’t think about that one too much. Focusing her mind, she began several relaxation techniques, and finally managed to achieve an uneasy sleep.

She concentrated very hard on not trembling as she used the micro filament to alter the nodes in the woman’s eyepiece. She wondered if the other could sense her nervousness, or worse, knew that her fingers were tingling so much it was hard to keep hold of the small metal probe. No one should have that much power over Captain Kathryn Janeway.

The elegant blonde profile was a mere breath away and the full, wine shaded lips were moving.

You were correct, Kathryn,” Seven said very softly. “My desire to remain in the Delta Quadrant was based on fear. I am no longer Borg … but the prospect of becoming Human is … unsettling. I don’t know where I belong.”

You belong with me,” Janeway told her, brushing her cheek with her thumb. “You always will.”

Janeway’s eyes flickered open, and she groaned softly. A wisp of dream darted away from her as she attempted to clarify it, and she blinked uncomfortably. The illumination had come up, signifying morning watch and automatically, she rolled out of bed. She went into the ensuite and took a quick shower, then dressed in the uniform she had recycled the night before. Strolling into the outer room, she raised an eyebrow as she saw the single place setting on the counter, the dishes covered with stasis lids. Intrigued, she deactivated the covers, and was surprised to find a plateful of fruit and muffins, the traditional continental breakfast. Orange juice, pulp included, filled a crystal glass, and the scent that rose from the mug was almost heavenly.

“Well, room service has certainly gotten better,” she said wryly as she sat down on the low backed stool, hooking her feet around the simulated wooden legs.

Jake, gnawing on a bone in the corner, yipped in response to her voice and trotted over to her. She fed him a few bits of muffin which he snapped up with such eagerness that she suspected it was not something she was supposed to be doing with him. She wondered where Seven of Nine had disappeared to, then realized that the young woman was probably already on duty.

Not before she had prepared this repast for the captain, however, Janeway thought. She certainly couldn’t complain about the gesture, and she wondered if it was a common occurrence or if she was being pampered by the young woman because she was still considered ill. In either event, it didn’t stop her from thoroughly enjoying the meal. Breakfast was not something she was in a habit of partaking of on a regular basis … at least, she didn’t think she was.

The coffee was another revelation, and she savored it as she sipped it. What was it Seven had said? That Phoebe had taught her how to make it? Seven certainly had the unique flavor down. Janeway tried to decide if she should be jealous that her sister had taught Seven the secret while steadfastly refusing to teach it to her, or simply be glad she benefitted from it now. In either event, it certainly seemed that Seven had made quite an impression on the Janeway family.

She deposited her dishes in the recycler, and headed for the door, looking apologetically at Jake who bounded after her, a ball in his mouth. “Sorry, boy,” she said. “I don’t have time to play.”

He sat down in the middle of the floor, looking so disappointed that she decided that this was far from the first time he had tried to pull that expression. It was simply too practiced. She noticed the silver thermos on the table by the door and she paused. There was a note on it, written in precise print. ‘Take to Ready Room.’

Curious, she picked it up and exited, strolling through the corridors. This was much better she thought, as she entered the turbolift. Not so much uncertainty here, and the ship was familiar as the lift rose swiftly to stop at the command center. The door opened, and swallowing her unease, she strode onto the bridge as she had so many times before. A quick glance around settled her. Everything was in the right place, and the bridge crew was still the same.

The slender, dark form of her chief of security, Tuvok, stood at tactical while Harry Kim still manned operations. Both, however, had advanced a rank, she saw, and she made a note to remember that when she addressed them in the future. Tom Paris, still a lieutenant, half turned in his chair at the helm while Chakotay stood up expectantly.

“Captain,” he greeted with honest appreciation in his voice. Around her, she could sense the sudden pleasure infusing the rest of the bridge crew, lightening their eyes, bringing smiles to their faces. Or, in Tuvok’s case, a slightly raised Vulcan eyebrow.

“Commander,” she returned calmly, though she was sure there was a grin curling the corner of her mouth. “Status.”

She tucked the thermos under her arm, suddenly aware of the incongruity of it but no one seemed to notice, and she guessed that it was a regular accessory for her.

“The ship is maintaining course to the Alpha Quadrant,” Chakotay responded promptly. “We’re coming up on a group of systems that Seven has assured us is non-hostile. Actually, ‘unremarkable’ was her term. I gather the Borg came through here a few times. It might be a place to check out.”

Janeway considered that. Apparently, where Neelix had once been their native guide, Seven was now considered the expert on the area they were traversing. She would have to remember that as well, and speak to her about it later. She nodded. “Set a course, Tom,” she said.

“Aye, ma’am,” he responded crisply, and turned back to his board.

She blinked at the very formal reply. She didn’t think it was crunch time, then realized that her crew had been sincerely worried about her. She supposed she should not be surprised by that, but it pleased and flattered her, nonetheless. Chakotay cleared his throat slightly, and she regarded him inquiringly.

“Today is personnel reports,” he said carefully.

“I tried to forget that,” she joked dryly, and there was a palpable sense of relaxation that spread over the bridge at her easy humor.

“Oh, I believe it,” he said with a relieved grin.

She smiled at him and turned for her ready room. “Tuvok,” she said as she passed, giving him the conn as Chakotay followed her into the room.

This hadn’t changed either, and she settled behind her desk with a quiet pleasure. She placed the thermos on the desk, bemused as Chakotay immediately picked it up and opened it, pouring the dark liquid it held into her cup with a practiced air. She smelled the warm, rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee, and she sent a mental thought of appreciation to the Borg who apparently was a woman of many skills. Seven certainly knew how to take care of her captain, Janeway thought.

Chakotay retreived a mug of Tirellian tea from the replicator for himself, and settled himself in the low-backed chair opposite her, picking up the first of the padds stacked on her desk.

She took a breath. “You realize, I’m still behind here,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he said simply.

And they left it at that as they began to go over the reports. There was one bad moment when Ensign Wildman was up for rotation to biometrics, and Janeway suggested that Ensign MacTara could replace her. Chakotay’s face sobered, and he had to inform her that the young man had died on a mission a year and a half before.

That was the only truly awkward incident, however, and when the task was done, and Chakotay had left her alone, she leaned back in her chair, daring to feel a sense of satisfaction that she was still Kathryn Janeway, still captain of Voyager, and certainly not ready to give up that role anytime soon.

She accessed her computer and brought up the remaining mission logs she had to go over, startled to see a small, but distinct, image of Seven in the corner of the screen. She supposed that it was something she had placed there, though she had never considered herself the sort to indulge in that kind of … well, romantic twaddle. Still, it was a discrete image, and she was soon able to ignore it as she began going over the logs immediately preceding her accident.

A few hours later, she poured herself another cup of coffee from the thermos and carefully mounted the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of her Ready room. She sipped from her lucky cup as she stared out the huge windows of transparent aluminum, watching the stars streak by, distorted by the warp bubble surrounding the ship.

So much to absorb she thought. An encounter in the Beta Quadrant with a civilization very much like the Federation. A Bajoran orb which transported her people to the Alpha Quadrant and back. Recreating Kes in a holographic image which raised the question of sentience for the Doctor as well. An alien uprising, and the discovery that the Loch Ness monster now dwelt in the Delta Quadrant.

Her assimilation at the hands of the Borg.

Janeway shook her head. She supposed she should be grateful she didn’t remember that, though it appeared that Seven of Nine had saved her. I must really love her, she thought dazedly. To have braved the Borg Collective to try to rescue her like that. My god, I never would have believed I would or could do that for anyone.

She contemplated the dark liquid in the porcelain cup, hoping to derive some kind of enlightenment from the smooth, velvet blackness. The recent side trip to the parallel universe where she had met a Commodore version of herself, seemed greatly commonplace compared to the knowledge of the slipstream project which had resulted from their encounter with the Borg. Apparently the propulsion drive hadn’t worked perfectly the last time they tried it, the test shuttle disintegrating, leaving Seven and herself stranded on a planet for three weeks, but there was no question that the science behind the experiment, the theory itself, was entirely correct. It was just a matter of ironing out a few bugs, and adapting the system to Voyager. Once that happened …

They would be home in three months.

Janeway regarded the passing stars thoughtfully.

It seemed the most significant thing she had done over the past three years was kidnap a drone from the Borg Collective and make her part of her crew.

If only she could remember it.

Seven of Nine stared at her astrometrics station without really seeing it, her thoughts swirling with the inescapable doubts and fear that she would be unable to do what was necessary to help the captain remember. If only she were more Human, had more knowledge about this sort of situation. Her research into it had been remarkably unhelpful, and it made her ill to think that she might actually be making things worse by imposing her presence on Janeway.

The hiss of the astrometrics lab door interrupted this depressing line of speculation, and she looked up to see the ship’s chief engineer approaching her.

“Lt. Torres,” she greeted formally, knowing they were both on duty. Her voice was grave because of the situation, but there was a lightening in her heart. The Klingon/Human hybrid had become her closest friend on the ship after Kathryn, and she was very glad to see her.

“Seven,” the shorter woman responded soberly. “How are you?”

“I am … functioning,” Seven said finally, after giving the question all due consideration. “It is difficult at times, but I realize that the situation could be much worse.”

“That it could be,” B’Elanna agreed, leaning against the console as she regarded the tall blonde with dark, intent eyes. “I can’t stay long. Vorik and I are going over the bridge science station again today. I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.”

Seven nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. “Thank you,” she said. She eyed the engineer curiously. “Have you discovered the cause of the captain’s accident?”

The woman’s face grew still. “I’m working on it,” she said evenly.

Her suspicions were immediately aroused by the lack of inflection in the Klingon’s tone … B’Elanna was a bundle of emotion at the best of times … and Seven fixed a penetrating stare on the lieutenant, frowning slightly.

“What have you discovered to date?” she insisted quietly.

B’Elanna’s eyes slid away from hers uneasily. “I can’t tell you, Seven,” she said reluctantly. “Not yet. I don’t have enough to go on.”

Seven was really alarmed now by her friend’s evasiveness. “Explain,” she demanded, leaning forward.

B’Elanna shook her head. “I can’t, Seven,” she said. “Not right now. As soon as I have anything, you’ll be the first to know … after Tuvok.”

Seven stared at her. “Tuvok,” she repeated flatly. “Is this a security matter?”

“It could be,” B’Elanna said. She frowned. “I shouldn’t have told you this much. Tuvok and I will handle this. Your main priority is looking after the captain.”

That reminded Seven of her situation, and her face tightened. “She does not remember me, B’Elanna,” she said softly. “She does not remember our love.”

“She will,” B’Elanna reassured. She grinned suddenly, though it appeared slightly forced. “Believe me, Seven. You’re not the sort of person one can forget for very long. No matter how hard someone tries.”

Seven recognized the attempt by B’Elanna to bring humor to the situation. She knew it was a standard practice in dealing with traumatic situations, particularly by this woman. It was honestly meant to comfort her, and she accepted the intention, rather than the literal meaning of the words.

“I try to have hope,” Seven allowed.

B’Elanna’s angular face softened, and she patted Seven on her arm. “Do that,” she said. “I have to go.”

Seven caught her hand, holding her in place as she froze the engineer with a significant look. “Find out why this happened,” she said.

“I will,” B’Elanna promised before she pulled away and left astrometrics.

Seven looked after her, thinking dark thoughts, then tried to resume her work. She would do herself, the ship or the captain, little good by neglecting her duties. She drew up the charts for the systems that lay ahead, utilizing her memory of the Collective’s pass through here a century before, while bolstering the data with information gathered by the long range sensors. As she did, she tried not to think too hard about what the captain was doing, hoping that Janeway had found the transition back to duty easier than she had found her transition back to her personal life.

Seven remained at her post for her entire rotation, finishing the charts and sending them to operations on the bridge before beginning the next series for the area beyond the small nebula which lay ahead. However, when the chronometer display on her screen altered to indicate the end of her shift, Seven immediately logged off and headed for her quarters, hoping to prepare Janeway’s favorite dish, a potato, corn and beef-flavored casserole, but when she entered the cabin, all thoughts of dinner immediately fled.

Janeway was curled up in the chair, several padds on the small table beside her, copious tears staining her face as she raised it to look at Seven.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

Today Seven of Nine announced our relationship to the entire bridge staff. She came onto the bridge near the end of our shift, and asked me if I had completed my day. When I foolishly replied in the affirmative, she blithly informed me, as well as all present, that we now had enough time to make love, since the morning had left us an insufficient amount.

I now know that it is absolutely impossible to die from sheer humiliation. Otherwise, I would not be sitting her to record this. I can only imagine what was going through the mind of Chakotay … or my god, Tuvok. Yet, how can I be angry at her? Seven simply wants to be with me, and could care less if anyone else knows it. Since I was the one who told her this morning that we would have plenty of time to be together after our duty shifts, I have only myself to blame. I have to remember that Seven still takes things very literally and to be more careful about what I say to her in the future.

Janeway took a breath. The log entry had initially amused her, then realizing that this had actually happened to her, and not someone else, she had glanced around to see if anyone was looking. A foolish gesture since she was alone in her ready room. My god, Seven had certainly been a lot to handle, she thought dazedly. How did I manage to get through it? Yet, since they were still together, it was clear she had found a way.

Absently, she lifted the cup to her lips, disappointed to find it was empty. The thermos was long drained, and with dismay, she realized she would have to use the replicator to make more. She had an uncomfortable feeling she would not enjoy that beverage nearly as much.

Glancing at the time, she realized she had only an hour or so left on her duty shift. She wasn’t accomplishing much in the way of ship’s business, and she decided that she would rather be in her quarters while she went over the rest of her personal logs. Especially if the last one was any indication of what she could expect. She definitely didn’t want anyone coming in here and catching a glimpse of it over her shoulder. She must remember to put some priority seals on the personal logs as soon as possible so that no one would ever be able to call them up.

She logged out of the ready room, forwarding her incoming to her quarters for the duration of her shift, then picked up the empty thermos, tucking it under her arm as she headed out the door. She nodded briefly at Chakotay who had the conn. “I’ll be in my quarters,” she informed him.

“Understood, Captain,” he said easily.

The turbolift deposited her on deck three, and she strode into her cabin, startled again by how different they were. The familiarity of the bridge, and the ready room, had lulled her into a sense of comfort, and as a result, she found the transition even more jarring than the night before. She did appreciate the adoring bundle that greeted her eagerly, however, deciding that this was change she could easily get used to. She picked Jake up in a joyful hug after first dropping the thermos on the counter.

He wiggled happily in her arms, and she thought that he felt a bit heavier today. Puppies grew so fast at this age, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until she would have to start walking him throughout the rest of the ship. She made a mental note to herself to ask Seven to create more devices like the one in the corner, and have them installed on every deck. That way, no matter where she and her pet walked, they would never be too far away from one.

Seven, she thought with a spurt of excitement. What made her think she had built the device? Then she glanced at it, and recognized the unmistakable Borg influence. Who else could have constructed it? An assumption based on accumulated visual data, she decided with disappointment, not a memory.

Depressed suddenly, she released Jake before going into the kitchenette and retreiving the plate of caramel brownies from beneath the counter.After replicating a large glass of milk, the sides of the glass frosted slightly, she carried both back to the coffee table. Jake scooted over, an interested expression on his fuzzy face, but she frowned sternly at him.

“No, Jake,” she said firmly. His ears went down, and she went over to the work area. This is pure comfort food, she thought as she bit into the gooey square, savoring the chocolate and caramel combination as she downloaded more of her personal logs from her console into a series of smaller data padds, taken aback by how many remained for her to catch up on. This could take days, she noted dismally. She squared her shoulders and returned to the chair, carrying her stack of padds. She settled into it comfortably, and reached over for another brownie, frowning as she realized the stack was a lot smaller than it had been.

She glared at Jake who looked as innocent as it was possible to look through the dark bits decorating his snout, clear evidence of his perfidy.

“Bad dog,” she scolded. “Bad, bad dog.” He lowered his head in shame … and licked his chops.

She favored him with a look of disapproval, then returned her attention to the first padd. Curling up in the chair, she began to read, picking up where she had left off in the ready room.

Time passed without notice as she discovered that she had tried to stop loving Seven … an unsuccessful attempt, obviously … and found that Seven possessed a remarkably forgiving nature which no doubt stood her in good stead living with a Starfleet captain. Janeway also learned, muich to her surprise, that Voyager’s captain possessed a rather unattractive streak of jealousy, appalled at the pettiness of her log entries that had followed their arrival in the Beta Quadrant’s Confederacy. She was disconcerted to realize she was disliking this Tazna Jade person without having to actually remember her.

The next log started with an entry which was thoroughly chastising to herself. She had forgotten Seven’s birthday? Somehow, that did not surprise Janeway, and she made a face as she read how she had neglected her partner, overlooking plans for dinner, forgetting appointments, and then finally, being totally oblivious to Annika’s special day. Janeway winced as she read how she had ignored Seven’s needs time and time again but that she was hoping a special birthday surprise, albeit a few days late, would make up for it somehow. Then Janeway accessed the next entry and her blood froze, staring at a haggard image of herself, the voice broken, and barely audible.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

Annika is dead.

I say it out loud, yet it doesn’t seem real. I don’t want it to be real. I saw it happen and I still can’t believe it. I seem to be able to absorb the loss of B’Elanna and Chakotay, but Annika …. she can’t be gone. She can’t. I don’t know how I can go on with this, yet I know I must. The ship needs me. The ship always needs me, and as always, I find myself answering that need.

Annika is dead.

One moment I am anticipating her return, and the surprise I have planned for her, and the next, she’s gone without even a chance to tell her how much I love her. All my wasted opportunities. All the times I worked rather than be with her, all the times I put duty first and her last. I can’t fix this now. I can never fix it.

Annika is dead.

I keep wanting to ask someone why this happened, why it had to be Annika, what I have to do to make this go away. I want to scream out these questions, but I know there is no one who can answer me.

Annika is dead.

There will be a memorial service tomorrow. The crew will look to me for guidance, for solace in this time of terrible tragedy. I will make something up, and they will accept it because I am captain, and therefore I must know how to make some sense to this … but I don’t. I will spend the rest of my life never making sense of it.

Annika is dead.

Oh god, why couldn’t it have been me?

Janeway stared at the tiny viewscreen as it went blank, the entry abruptly ending, and she felt her breath catch at the back of her throat as she went through the rest of the entries in the log. Such a combination of loss and guilt, she thought dazedly. The litany of despair and hopelessness seemed to be beyond bearing., yet somehow, she had managed to continue to function after Seven’s presumed death, probably because she had no choice, the ship deep in the heart of hostile space. The official mission logs she had read earlier had given absolutely no indication of this private and personal hell.

She was startled when the entries suddenly stopped, as if the person recording simply had nothing left to say. She crosschecked the Stardates, and realized that the personal logs ceased a good month before the official logs revealed the triumphant return of Voyager’s three lost crewmembers. She instinctually understood that the woman, Kathryn Janeway, had stopped existing while the starship captain went on.

Profoundly, shaken, she viewed the final entry in the log.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

I have been remiss in keeping up to date on my log regarding all that has happened the last three months, but what was there to say? Annika was dead … and a very vital part of me died at the same time. But now, Annika is alive. She was always alive. Strangely, I find myself furious with her for having put me through this, for granting me this preview of hell, even though I know she had no control over what happened. She had no intention of hurting me, yet I feel as if this was her way of punishing me for my past neglect. I want to shake her for scaring me so badly. Instead, I hold her as if I will never let go, and doing my absolute best not to cry like a child. It is completely irrational but then, rational is not exactly a word I could use to describe myself these last months.

Annika is alive.

Even now she lies asleep in our bed, and I go repeatedly to the bedroom door to look in on her, to reassure myself that I am not dreaming. That the nightmare is in fact, over. She looks so innocent, so peaceful, lying there; so very beautiful. I am unsurprised that my family absolutely adores her. Their messages rave about her, especially Mother’s. I have the impression that she approves of our relationship more than any other I have ever been involved in. I don’t know why. I’m not sure I want to know why. I am content that she has had this chance to know Annika, and is happy for us.

Annika is alive.

I watched her this morning as she opened the gifts that should have been hers months ago, and thought that to have her back is a gift beyond measure, a treasure beyond price, a second chance that I probably don’t deserve, but shall be eternally grateful for.

Annika is alive.

And she is my heart. Without her, I have none, just a frozen lump of nothingness where it used to be. I don’t believe she understands how much I need her. Until now, I didn’t understand it myself. I will never let her down, again. I will never allow myself to put her second to anything, including this ship. I never thought I would or could say that about another human being, no matter how much I loved them.

Annika is alive.

Finally, so am I.

Janeway was embarrassed by the tears flowing freely down her face, but she couldn’t seem to stop them. Did she truly love Seven that much? It seemed she must, yet there was nothing within her to prove it. She strained for some sense of it, some hint of the raw, overpowering emotion that she had supposedly felt for the young woman, but it remained forever elusive. What would she do if it never returned? Would she too, cease to be? Would only the captain, the role … the rank … be left to carry on, to function in the woman’s stead?

The door hissed open, and she looked up to see Seven of Nine standing in the doorway. The young woman’s expression spoke volumes, and clumsily, Janeway wiped her face.

“I … I forgot the time,” she said huskily, “and that you would be off duty.”

“Are you all right, Captain?” Seven asked uncertainly. Janeway had to remember that, as hard as it was for her to be going through this, it had to be harder still for the young Borg. After all, Seven had not forgotten the relationship at all, the emotion still filling those pale blue eyes, though she tried very hard to hide it.

“I’m fine, Seven,” Janeway responded, a bit more harshly than she intended.

Seven did not flinch, but the captain thought she saw a hint of shadow cross the young woman’s gaze for just an instant.

“I’m sorry,” Janeway apologized in a much gentler tone. She motioned to the padds. “I’ve been going over the logs and … some of them are difficult to deal with all at once.”

“I understand,” Seven said carefully. She took a breath and dropped her eyes, going over to the kitchenette where she immediately began to pull out dishes and ingredients.

“Now, I know why you learned to cook,” Janeway said, after an awkward pause that seemed to stretch for hours. Hesitantly, she got up and moved over to the counter, perching gingerly on the stool. “My mother is very persuasive.”

“She is, indeed,” Seven agreed in a subdued tone. When she finally dared to glance up, it was to study Janeway anxiously. “Would you care for anything? It will be some time before dinner is ready.”

Oddly, Janeway felt humor suddenly flicker inside her, hiding her grin as she dipped her head. She is so like Mother, she thought. Food is the cure for everything. Not much wonder they got along so well.

“I’m afraid I raided the kitchen earlier,” she admitted bashfully. She looked back at the glass now standing empty on the table, the profusion of chocolate crumbs scattered amongst the padds, the considerably diminished number of brownies on the plate testament to Janeway’s love for the sweets … and Jake’s thievery.

Seven followed her glance, her eyebrow raising as she counted the remaining squares, then she favored the captain with a look of pure astonishment. “Nine?” she said. “You ate nine?”

“Well, to be honest, I only ate four,” Janeway countered, trying not to laugh. “Jake, um….”

“They are not good for Jake,” Seven said with dismay.

Janeway flashed her a smile. “I liked them,” she responded. “So did he.”

She stared at Seven, and finally the young woman lowered her eyes, but not before Janeway had seen the amusement coloring them, whether with regards to the dog, or the fact the captain was such a pushover with him. Janeway wasn’t sure which was the case, though she was glad that the mood had lightened somewhat. Slipping off the stool to retrieve her dirty glass from the table, Janeway popped it into the recycle unit, and swept the crumbs onto the carpet, intending to clean them up later, but Jake immediately pounced on them, vacuuming them up far more efficiently than any cleaning device could manage.

Janeway snuck a glance at Seven, who regarded them both sternly so she offered a mock glare to the dog. “You’re going to get me into trouble,” she growled. “Try not to be so obvious.”

Jake wagged his tail, and looked expectantly at her for more. She grinned at him, and returned to her stool with the plate of sweets, placing it on the counter as she watched Seven layer the pastry at the bottom of the casserole with potatoes, spices, corn, and beef protein.

“I love that dish,” Janeway said.

Seven hesitated, then nodded. “I know,” she admitted. “I hope that by preparing your favorite meals, it might help you … remember.”

Janeway considered that. “I don’t think so,” she offered thoughtfully. “I mean, the concept is probably sound, but these dishes bring back my childhood, which I already remember. Perhaps if you prepared a dish that was uniquely yours, and not a recipe from my mother, it would work better.” Then, she held up a hand, eyes widening with alarm. “It doesn’t have to be tonight,” she added hastily.

Seven, who had merely paused temporarily in her preparation, allowed a small smile to curl up both sides of her mouth. “I will not waste this,” she promised. “However, I believe you may be right. I had not considered the fact that these meals were created so that you could have a sense of home. It was short sighted of me. Unfortunately, I do not have any recipes that are ‘uniquely mine’. I utilize only Gretchen’s. She gave me so many that I have not yet attempted them all, and of course, there are favorites that you enjoy having me repeat on a regular basis.”

Janeway nodded. “Is there anything we did together that is uniquely ours?” she asked.

Seven stared at her, then blushed, looking down as she bit her bottom lip, suddenly extremely busy with placing the corn with just the right thickness in the dish.

Janeway was confused, then blushed herself as she thought about it. “I mean,” she said self-consciously. “Something besides … that.”

“We played Velocity,” Seven offered.

Janeway frowned. “The game with the disc and phasers?” she asked. “I never learned to play.”

“Actually,” Seven said gently, concentrating on her task, “you are the best player on the ship.”

Janeway felt the emptiness yawn beneath her again, and took a deep breath. “Oh,” she said. She forced a grin. “The best on the ship?”

Seven looked up, eyes sparkling. “Oh yes,” she said with enthusiasm. “I have never beaten you, even though I possess superior visual acuity and stamina. Although Chakotay came close to defeating you in one match, it was only because you had pulled a ligament. Even then, you beat him with a triple ricochet move that was absolutely brilliant.”

“I see,” Janeway responded, smiling easily now at the young woman’s vivaciousness. She folded her hands on the counter, and tilted her head slightly as she regarded the other woman. “We’ll have to schedule a game soon.”

“I would like that,” Seven said, somewhat shyly. She placed her casserole in the heating unit, and set it to high.

Janeway promptly hopped off the stool, and went to set the table as the young woman began to prepare Jake’s dinner. The captain realized that she did feel a sort of comfort in doing these domestic tasks, and it encouraged her that she remembered how to place the settings.

There was a chime at the door, and she frowned, looking over at Seven. The Borg appeared equally baffled, and Janeway went to answer it. The Doctor stood outside, regarding her sourly.

“You were supposed to be in sickbay ten minutes ago,” he said.

Janeway winced. “I forgot,” she said honestly.

“Why does that not surprise me?” he said, brushing past her to enter the quarters. He nodded briefly at Seven, then glanced at Jake who was bounding about him, barking with puppy fierceness, darting at the hologram’s ankles to snap at his pant legs. “Do you mind calling off your dog?” he asked acidly.

Janeway found herself darting a look at Seven who returned it, warmed by the moment of shared amusement.

“Jake,” Seven said crisply. “Good dog. Sit.”

Jake glanced at her, then glared back at the Doctor though he did sit down. He did not stop growling, however, and Janeway was hard pressed not to smile at the Doctor’s expression. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean it,” she offered.

“I’m sure,” he echoed with obvious disbelief. “Captain, if we could retire to your bedroom while I examine you?”

She nodded and led the way, feeling a bit embarrassed as he stopped and gazed up at the mirror on the ceiling. “How … decadent,” he sniffed. “This certainly wasn’t here the last time I visited.”

Janeway was still getting used to the idea that the Doctor could now leave sickbay. “You’ve been in my bedroom?” she asked with distaste.

“Oh yes,” he replied readily, apparently not picking up on the tone of her voice. “The last time was when Seven first rejected her abdominal implant, and was vomiting excessively. Not to mention when your lovemaking took on … shall we say … a violent turn.”

Janeway blinked at him. “Violent?” she said, face paling.

He glanced at her, and offered a contrite expression. “I’m sorry, Captain,” he said hastily. “Nothing like that. In the beginning, Seven occasionally lost control of her hand implant during your more … intimate moments. Honestly, it was only that one time that she shredded your back muscles. She learned very quickly to … well, improvise. In fact, I suggested the metal rod on the headboard, and it seems to have done the trick quite nicely,” he added brightly.

“Oh,” Janeway said weakly. Well, at least now she knew what the metal bar was for. Lost control, he said? She made the ice queen out there lose control? Despite herself, she felt a faint sense of cockiness steal over her, but then she realized she had no memory of how she had managed to pull it off, and again, the ground grew unsteady beneath her. She swallowed her fear, knowing it was altering to anger, but unable to contain it completely.

“Let’s get on with this,” she said irritably, shrugging out of her tunic.

Seven of Nine looked up as the Doctor and Janeway returned to the living area. The Doctor looked relaxed and the young woman dared to hope that this meant it was good news. The captain, on the other hand, did not look relaxed, and Seven immediately wondered what they had talked about in there.

“Doctor?” she asked, trying to curb her anxiety.

“The neural sequencers do seem to be generating new pathways,” he replied to her unspoken question. “I’m beginning to offer a hope… very tentative, mind you … for complete regeneration.”

“Meaning?” Seven said.

“That it is entirely possible that she may be able to once again access her missing memories,” he said. “By utilizing these new neural pathways.”

“It’s not probable, however,” Janeway pointed out, dampening the enthusiasm rising in Seven.

“Still,” Seven said, unable to keep her eyes from shining. “This is good news.”

“Yes, it is,” he said. He looked back at the captain. “I leave you in Seven’s capable hands,” he added. “In the meantime, don’t forget your next appointment. Two days from now, same time.”

“I’ll try to remember,” Janeway told him dryly.

He made a small face at her and left. Janeway stared after him a moment. “Somehow, he’s gotten a lot more presumptuous in the past three years,” she noted idly, hands on her hips.

Seven placed the casserole on the table. “Especially since you accorded he and Sek full crewmember status,” she offered casually.

Janeway looked sharply at her, then shook her head as if deciding she didn’t want to know. She took a seat and scooped a large portion of the casserole onto her plate. She eagerly took a bite, then shot a look at Seven. “You know, I am absolutely astounded at how well you do this,” she complimented. “It’s not an easy skill to master.”

Seven didn’t quite know how to respond. The compliment sounded a little condescending, as if Janeway could still not believe that Seven was capable of these all too Human tasks. Or perhaps she was just being too sensitive. Still, Janeway did seem a little put out by the Doctor’s visit, and there was an edginess there that Seven had learned to recognize was the captain’s attempting to cover up some deeper, underlying emotion … such as anger.

Or fear.

“Thank you,” Seven said finally, in a quiet voice.

She began to eat, keeping a close eye on the captain, but Janeway did not seem inclined to talk, and the meal was consumed in silence. When it was over, Janeway found the ball and played with Jake, but Seven could tell it was by rote only. The Borg cleaned up quickly, then picked up a padd from her desk. “I must speak to Lt. Torres,” she said. “I will be away most of the evening.”

Janeway nodded, but Seven could see the relief in her eyes. It hurt profoundly, but the young woman knew that Janeway would occasionally require space during her recovery, and it was apparent that this was one of those times. Swallowing hard, Seven quickly left their quarters and asked the computer for the chief engineer’s location. The computer directed Seven to engineering, and she found B’Elanna in her office, going over the schematics of the bridge science station. Tuvok was with her, and Seven felt disturbed when she saw their grave faces.

“What has happened?” she asked.

“How is the captain?” Tuvok asked instead.

“Uneasy tonight,” Seven said, eyeing him narrowly. “Which is why I am here. She requires distance at times.”

“I admire your ability to approach this logically,” he remarked. “In what is clearly a highly emotional situation.”

She nodded, aware that he was digressing even as she was truly warmed by the compliment. Tuvok had been the first crewmember that she had approached on a personal level after joining Voyager, appreciating his calm, rational approach to things, a trait of his Vulcan people. When her first forays into Humanity seemed less than successful, she found comfort in attempting to emulate him, and he had returned her attention with a paternal interest, though she had never been quite sure why.

“What have you discovered?” she persisted.

“What makes you believe we have discovered anything?” he countered evenly.

“The fact that you answered my question with a question,” she replied reasonably. “Otherwise you would have told me that nothing new had been discovered.”

He raised an approving eyebrow at her logic, and nodded briefly. “We have indeed, found something disturbing,” he admitted. “It appears that the accident was in fact, not an accident.”

“The science station was sabotaged,” B’Elanna blurted, apparently tired of all this verbal interplay that Tuvok and Seven liked to indulge in.

Seven felt the blood suddenly drain from her face, and she sank into the nearest seat. “Someone tried to kill Kathryn?” she said. She could scarcely recognize her own voice.

“We do not know that it was intended for the captain,” Tuvok rationalized. “In fact, it is likely it was not. The bridge science station is hardly a post she covers often.”

“Who usually is assigned that post?” B’Elanna asked.

“Lt. Angela James covers that station during the alpha rotation,” Tuvok agreed. “But it was not her post this week. In fact, no one has it this week due to the unremarkable area of space we’re traversing.”

“No one has ever explained to me why the captain was at that station to begin with,” Seven said slowly.

“She had accessed it to run a projection of the slipstream drive reacting with a quantum singularity,” Tuvok replied. “When she picked up an intermittent pulse on the circuit relays, she decided to repair it herself.”

“Instead of calling me,” B’Elanna said grumpily.

“In which case, you would have been the one injured,” Seven said thoughtfully.

“My head is a lot harder than the captain’s,” the Klingon returned. The smooth ridges of bone on her forehead seemed to catch the light, emphasizing her point.

“Still, the explosion was triggered by the removal of that panel,” Tuvok added. “It is removed only when repairs are being made to the console. Therefore, the sabotage was probably intended for whoever were repairing it, which would normally be personnel from engineering.”

“Perhaps it was to destroy something at the console itself?” Seven offered.

“That is entirely possible,” Tuvok said thoughtfully. “It could be an attempt to cover the evidence of another sort of sabotage.”

Seven frowned. “If someone has attempted to harm Kathryn…,” she trailed off.

“You’ll get first crack at him,” B’Elanna promised loyally.

Tuvok regarded them both sardonically. “May I remind you who is chief of security?” he reminded them. “As well as the fact that Starfleet rules apply to any situation on the ship.”

“What? You want first crack?” B’Elanna asked him breezily. “Fine, just so long as you leave some for us.”

Tuvok did not dignify that with an answer, and B’Elanna sent a mischievous glance Seven’s way. Despite the situation, Seven felt herself relax a little, realizing only now how tense she had become in her quarters. This was only the second day, she thought with dismay. Did she have the strength to carry this through? To help Kathryn every step of the way?

She would just have to find it in her, she decided stubbornly.

They talked about the sabotage further, all three putting in further speculation and theories, before calling it an evening. Tuvok promised to keep Seven updated on their progress, and she returned to her quarters feeling apprehensive about this new information, even though she did not know what to do about it. She had asked Tuvok and B’Elanna’s advice about whether she should share it with the captain, and they were unanimous in telling her to keep it quiet for the time being. Seven didn’t know if she liked that idea at all, but Tuvok generally did not steer her wrong with his advice.

B’Elanna was a completely different matter, of course.

Seven tiptoed into the cabin, surprised at how late it had gotten. The lights were dim, only a brief illumination from the emergency lights running along the base of the walls, and from the stars out the windows. She quietly made up the couch, dressing in her pyjamas, all the while noticing that the door leading to the bedroom had been left open this night. She felt an irresistible urge to go through it, wanting to at least see Kathryn, but she dared not intrude on the captain’s privacy which would be very precious to Janeway at this very uncertain time. Still Seven was unable to resist totally, and carefully she moved closer to the doorway, looking into the bedroom unobtrusively.

The captain was asleep, her breathing slow and steady. Seven felt a pang in her chest, knowing that it had been not so long ago that the captain had found it difficult to sleep at all without Seven next to her. It was apparent that Janeway had adapted. Seven longed to join her, to wrap herself around that slender form, bury her face in the warm, auburn hair, and breathe deep the glorious fragrance of Kathryn. She wondered what would happen if she did, how Janeway would respond. Would she roll over in that sleepy manner she had, rearranging herself so that she was sprawled all over Seven, nuzzling the Borg’s neck and chest briefly before resuming her slumber, all without ever waking up fully? Or would she instead wake up furious, object loudly, and throw Seven not only out of the bed, but also out of their quarters.

Seven thought miserably that the latter would be the more likely scenario. She turned around and went unhappily to the couch. Jake was lying next to the pillow, his little tail thumping hard as he regarded her. She frowned at him, but did not remove him as she crawled into her bed. He showed his appreciation with a wet swipe across her chin, and settled down contentedly in the crook of her arm.

“You are impossible,” she said darkly.

He whimpered happily, and promptly went to sleep.

She wished it were as easy for her.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” the Doctor said. “There was nothing I could do. He set up a force shield that I could not get through and refused to listen to either Seven or me. One allowed himself to die so that he would never fall into the hands of the Borg.”

Janeway felt a wave of sadness flood her at the waste, at the loss of the potential. One had been a unique individual and she mourned his sacrifice even as she was proud of it. “I know you did all you could,” she said, hoping her regret would carry over the comm channel.

“I’m a little worried about Seven, Captain,” the Doctor said then. “She seemed very upset when she left sickbay.”

Janeway’s eyes widened, a small furrow of concern appearing between her eyebrows. She glanced at Chakotay who was regarding her with a empathetic expression. “Where is she now?” she asked tersely.

“I believe she returned to cargo bay two,” the EMH responded.

“I’ll take care of it, Doctor,” she assured him.

“Thank you, Captain,” he said and cut the channel.

She glanced at Chakotay again and he nodded briefly, all that was sufficient to hand the conn over to him. “I’ll be in cargo bay two,” she said quietly and got out of the command chair.

The turbo lift seemed slow as it carried her down to deck seven and she tried not to fidget as she waited. The large cargo bay doors parted obediently for her and she strode briskly in, hesitating as she saw Seven standing motionless in front of her work station, her head bent, shoulders slumped.

She looks so lost, Janeway thought, her heart catching.

Quietly she joined the young woman, reaching out to enfold the young woman compassionately in her arms.

“I’m so sorry about One,” she said softly. “I know you truly cared for him.”

Seven did not look up, and Janeway saw the two small tears tracking down the alabaster cheeks. “I am unfamiliar with how I feel,” Seven said in a small choked voice. “He was very brave, Kathryn, I should be proud, but this is hurting me.”

Janeway drew the Borg over to the dais where they sat down, side by side, resting her hand on the narrow shoulder, feeling the delicate bones through the thin material of Seven’s outfit.

“When we care about someone,” Janeway explained gently. “Losing them can sometimes be more than we think we can bear, regardless of the curcumstances, but mourning their lost is also part of being Human, Seven.”

“Is that why I feel this way?” the Borg asked, sniffing hard.

“Yes,” Janeway said. “It’s all right to cry, Seven. In fact, it’s good for you to let these emotions display themselves in this way. Just let yourself go. It will help you heal.”

As if Janeway’s blessing had been all she needed, Seven leaned forward, arms wrapped around her ribs, weeping with deep, wracking sobs that shook her body helplessly. Janeway hugged her tightly, arm across her chest, resting her other hand on the back of the blonde head, stroking it gently, murmuring soft words that did not need to make sense but were soothing and supportive. The sobs eventually subsided, but Janeway did not release her comforting hold, did not stop crooning to her until Seven was finally able to straighten, wiping ineffectually at her face. Janeway wished she had some sort of handkerchief but they were hardly Starfleet issue. Instead, she used her uniform tunic sleeve to help dry the tears.

Seven took a deep breath and looked at her with reddened eyes.

“I am glad you are here,” she said uncertainly. “It still hurts, however.”

“It will for some time,” Janeway told her. “But it will get better, Seven, I promise you. You will never forget One, but eventually you’ll be able to remember him without pain.” She placed her hand gently on the smooth cheek and looked deeply into the pale eyes. “Seven, I’m very glad I was here for you as well. I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through this alone.”

Janeway came awake abruptly, grasping desperately at the dream. Seven had been crying, she knew, and she had been comforting her, but how or why, she could not understand. The longer she was awake, the more insubstantial and fleeting it seemed. Was it a memory? Or a projection of what she was beginning to feel for the woman now, confused with all the logs she had been reading.

She took a breath and rolled over, then wearily got up. It was still dark in the quarters, and a glance at the time revealed that she still had hours to go before morning watch occurred. She slipped silently into the ensuite and washed her face with cold water, blinking at her reflection in the mirror as she dried her face with a towel. She firmed her jaw, pulling on the command mask, glad that it still fit seamlessly, then dressed in a fresh uniform and left the bedroom.

She moved as quietly as she could by the huddled figure on the couch, wondering if Seven was actually asleep, or if she was just feigning as the captain herself had been the night before when Seven had returned home. The Borg had stood for what seemed forever in the bedroom doorway, gazing at her, and Janeway had thought … just for an instant … that the young woman was going to join her in the bed. She wasn’t sure how she would respond, whether with the aching need that had come over her suddenly, the incredible urge to have that warm body wrap around her, or the absolute terror she felt at having to deal with this person that she did not know in the slightest.

Janeway strode rapidly down the corridor, unsure of where she was going, only that she needed to be on the move. She made a long tour of the ship, stopping to chat with a crewmember now and again, people who, because of their preference for the back shift, kept her from knowing them well … or them, her … which made everything seem completely normal. Just the captain making an unofficial inspection, and she was pleased to see how shipshape everything was. Then she remembered, according to the logs, Voyager had recently undergone two overhauls, once in the Beta Quadrant, then again, when B’Elanna had returned from the Alpha Quadrant with all kinds of new equipment and enhancements.

Which reminded her of the personal logs she had been reading prior to going to bed. Amongst all her opinions about the upgrades, Janeway had come across her thoughts about Seven’s rejected abdominal implant, and the creation of the new Emergency Medical Assistant. Seven had been very helpful to the captain when the tough decision about the hologram’s sentience had to be made, and Janeway wished she could speak to Seven now the way she apparently could then, confide in her all her doubts and fears, tell her of all the feelings that were keeping her up at night.

Janeway suddenly found herself missing Kes, intensely. For her, it was as if she had just lost the young Ocampa rather than the almost two years it had really been. Janeway would have loved to speak to Kes about everything that was going on, knowing that the young woman would understand utterly, or at least, appear to understand. There would be no sense of being judged, no sense of needing to explain herself, just the calm, warm presence that was so comforting, so soothing. For whatever reason, the hologram based on her personal matrix simply did not share that empathic nature, though Sek still seemed very kind.

Shaking herself out of the malaise that was affecting her, Janeway headed for the bridge, smiling as she saw Harry Kim spring to his feet as she exited the turbolift. After all this time, and a lieutenant’s pip later, the young man still responded sometimes like the ensign fresh out of the Academy. She wondered if he would ever be able to get the proper seasoning on Voyager that he needed to advance in his career. Unlike before, it was a valid concern now that there was a good chance they would be returning home in the next year or so.

“You still have the conn,” she explained. “I’m just in a little early to catch up on some work.”

“Yes, captain,” he responded crisply. He didn’t salute, but that was only because in Starfleet, they didn’t.

She entered her ready room, relieved to be surrounded by the familiar furnishings and ornaments. It occurred to her that she really did not like change. She wondered if it had been a problem when Seven had moved in, when their quarters had required a lot of renovation to allow for two people … especially since they both seemed so strong willed.

She sat down at her desk, and brought up the weekly departmental reports. She needed to think about something else for a while, she decided, something other than her missing memories and her relationship, whatever it was at the moment, with Seven. Willing herself to concentrate utterly on the data, she immersed herself in ship’s business, catching up on what was going on in every section, no matter how small.

A soft chime at her door interrupted her some time later and she looked up, blinking hard.

“Come in,” she said with a touch of apprehension.

But it was only Harry, and he brought in the silver thermos, setting it gently on her desk. “Seven dropped this by,” he said casually. There was no unusual inflection in his tone, no sense he was amused by this domestic touch or found it anything other than a common occurrence. “Alpha shift begins in twenty minutes,” he added.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said. “Chakotay will relieve you.”

“Understood,” he said, and left without saying anything else.

She stared at the silver container, trying to decide how she felt about this caring, thoughtful gesture from the young woman, and was completely unable to attach a proper description to it. Maybe, Janeway thought as she unscrewed the cover and poured the day’s first cup of coffee, I’m just trying too hard. She took a long drink from her lucky cup, and went back to work.

The day progressed as most did, though it did include a few interesting incidents. She was called onto the bridge when they arrived at the planetary system, and she spent an hour or so speaking to a representative of the indigenous species. The Blighia, as they were called, had indeed turned out to be unremarkable, but they did have a supply of medical herbs and drugs that the doctor decided would be nice to have. Janeway spent some time negotiating for them, finally having to offer a few more data chips than she initially wanted. Eventually the deal was complete, and the supplies beamed over. A quick study of the legal obligations required to make planetfall indicated a restrictive and dull sort of culture, not the sort of place Voyager would care to linger, so with courteous farewells, Janeway had Paris set course for the next group of stars.

This area of space was thick with inhabited systems after their recent passage through the Void, and she hoped that meant supplies and food would be easily found. It seemed that with any luck, their final years in the Delta Quadrant would be spent in relative comfort, a nice change from the first years where everything was rationed, and they had no idea where their next power supply would come from.

She returned to her ready room and set up the schematics for the new shuttle craft Tom Paris had designed, intrigued by the all-terrain capabilities. She wondered why he had named it the Delta Flyer, and marveled at the odd control panels he had designed. Before she knew it, beta shift was half over, and she realized she should have ended her shift four hours earlier.

As she was logging off her console, a call came in from sickbay.

“Captain, there’s been an accident,” the Doctor said soberly. “Lt. Torres has been injured.”

Seven of Nine leaned worriedly over the biobed containing the loudly complaining Klingon. “I’m telling you,” B’Elanna protested. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You have a ten inch gash in your back,” the Doctor said, pushing her back down on the bed. “Where do you think all the blood decorating my sickbay came from? Now will you stay still until I repair it?”

Fuming, B’Elanna subsided onto her belly, and Seven knelt down so that their heads were level.

“B’Elanna,” she asked worriedly as the Doctor retrieved his instruments. “Was this sabotage as well?”

Torres frowned at her, then suddenly looked thoughtful. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “I thought it was an accident, but truthfully, there’s no reason that blast door in the Jeffries tube should have dropped just then.” She took a breath, brows furrowed darkly as she considered it carefully. “You know, it just might have been a trap of some sort.” She darted a look at Seven. “By the way, thanks for getting me out of there,” she added quietly as the Doctor returned, running his myo-vascular regenerator over the wound, then finishing up with a pass from his dermal regenerator, leaving the skin intact once more.

“It was the most efficient method,” Seven told her honestly. “It was taking too long for the engineering crew to bypass the computer override.”

“Thanks anyway,” B’Elanna said shortly, then grinned, showing sharp-edged teeth. “That was quite the expression on Carey’s face when you ripped open the junction box.”

“It was the same expression you used to get,” Seven reminded her.

B’Elanna smirked. “He doesn’t know you like I do,” she said. “I expect you to do things like that now.” She snuck a look over her shoulder as the captain entered sickbay and lowered her voice. “Oh boy, we might have to tell her.”

“What happened?” Janeway demanded as she reached them, frowning intently.

“Lt. Torres was trapped when a blast door in the Jeffries tube shut unexpectantly,” the Doctor replied crisply. “Her injuries are easily repaired, though she did damage a main blood vessel. If Seven hadn’t freed her so quickly, B’Elanna might have been in a little trouble from the excessive bleeding.” He glanced around his sickbay which was liberally splattered with Klingon blood. “On the other hand, I would rather she had left some of it in the Jeffries tube,” he added sourly.

Janeway took a breath, and Seven felt the captain’s eyes on her.

“What were you doing in the Jeffries tube?” she asked sharply. “I expect to find B’Elanna there, but I thought your post was in astrometrics?”

Seven was surprised by the note of anger in the catpain’s voice, then realized it was springing from Janeway’s fear, either at the injury B’Elanna had suffered, or just because things had been so uncertain for her lately. It bothered her even though she thought she understood it.

“B’Elan – Lt. Torres and I were discussing … ” Seven’s voice trailed off uncertainly. “The situation.”

“While on duty?” Janeway asked, color suddenly staining her cheeks.

B’Elanna sat up as the doctor moved away, his treatment complete. “Seven is a department head under my authorization, Captain,” she said, carefully tempering her voice to a respectful tone. “We frequently consult whenever we can on things that affect our sections. As these accidents do.”

“My loss of memory is not a topic I care to have discussed in a Jeffries tube,” Janeway said icily.

Seven blinked, realizing that Janeway had misunderstood. “Not that ‘situation’,” she said quietly.

That brought the captain up short, and Seven saw that Janeway was embarrassed, something that was anathema to the young woman. Originally, their conflicts with each other had been loud and very often, public. As Seven became more aware of the Starfleet command structure, and how it forced Janeway into sometimes narrow avenues of response, the younger woman found she was waiting until they were alone before she disagreed with Janeway. To have put the captain in a position where she felt embarrassed, no matter how minor, made Seven extremely uncomfortable, as if she had somehow betrayed her captain, had undermined her in some undefinable way. It made her feel slightly ill inside.

“My mistake,” Janeway said stiffly. “Perhaps you’d care to explain what ‘situation’ you were discussing when the malfunction occurred.” She fixed a baleful stare on B’Elanna who’s ears flattened visibly against her head. “As well as what caused the malfunction.”

“The same thing that cost you your memory, I’m afraid, Captain,” Tuvok interjected at that moment, striding across the deck. Seven had not even heard him come in.

“Then, it was sabotage,” B’Elanna blurted, then looked as if she wished she could rip her tongue out when the captain stared at her with a startled expression.

“I suggest we retire to a more secure area,” Tuvok said firmly.

Seven and B’Elanna exchanged significant glances as the Doctor appeared miffed that he was apparently being kept in the dark about something. Janeway looked more than miffed. She looked positively outraged, and Seven felt her heart sink as she and the engineer followed the two bridge officers out of sickbay.

In the conference room, Janeway, along with Chakotay, was brought up to date on what Tuvok, B’Elanna and Seven had been working on. Neither the captain nor the first officer were pleased to have been left out of it until now.

“Why are you coming to us so late?” Janeway said in a voice that chilled the room. Seven was surprised the crew’s breath wasn’t suddenly crystalizing in the sub-zero temperature.

“We didn’t have enough evidence to indicate sabotage,” Tuvok said calmly. “Nor were we certain who, if anyone, it was directed at.” Seven and B’Elanna were both glad he was the one having to do the talking.

“What happened to the captain was an accident?” the first officer asked keenly.

“More in the line of an innocent bystander who got caught in the line of fire,” Tuvok corrected. “If she had called in the chief engineer as would normally be the case on bridge malfunctions, Lt. Torres would have taken the brunt of the explosion at the science station instead. This current incident indicates that she seems to be the target of this latest sabotage.”

“I wish it had been me on the bridge,” B’Elanna snarled as she stood up, pacing about the room angrily. Her fists were clenched. “This is cowardly. Who would be too afraid to face me like a warrior?”

“Practically anyone,” Seven pointed out logically. “Other than myself and Tuvok, no one on the ship is capable of defeating you in a physical conflict.”

B’Elanna glared at her, displeased at Seven’s evaluation of the situation. She would rather be in an irrational rage, Seven thought idly. Is that a Klingon thing?

Janeway regarded B’Elanna pointedly, until the Klingon finally got the message and sat down again. “Who on the vessel would have a personal vendetta against you, Lieutenant?” the captain asked in that deceptively mild voice that they had all learned concealed a deep, personal fury.

B’Elanna growled softly. “Paris,” she said promptly. “He’s never gotten over the fact that I dumped him.”

“He’d more apt to come after me,” Chakotay pointed out dryly. “He never has. This may be hard for you to hear,” he added, using the Klingon word for beloved, “but I think he’s over you.”

Seven noted that Janeway looked floored, whether from the fact that B’Elanna and Paris had apparently indulged in a romantic relationship, or the fact that Chakotay had just called B’Elanna such a tender name in front of everyone. The captain looked back and forth between them for a minute, then seemed to realize how much vulnerability she was revealing, and looked down at her padd on the conference table.

“What about Lt. James?” Seven offered suddenly. “Wasn’t that Jeffries tube above the corridor where you…” She trailed off as she suddenly remembered that was supposed to be a secret, and that not everyone in the room knew about it.

“Told her off, shook my fist under her snooty little nose, and told her I’d kill her the next time she ticked me off?” B’Elanna finished, oblivious to the expressions crossing Chakotay and Janeway’s faces. She looked honestly puzzled. “She wouldn’t take that personally, would she? That was just, you know, woman-to-woman stuff.”

“It was Lt. James’ regular post that exploded, which gives her the opportunity to have set the trap,” Tuvok noted calmly. “Expecting that it would be B’Elanna repairing the bridge station rather than the captain. However, opportunity and motive are not enough. We need evidence.”

Janeway nodded finally, face thoughtful. “That’s a good point, Tuvok,” she said. She glanced at B’Elanna. “Tell me more about this ‘woman-to-woman stuff’.”

“She had a thing for Chakotay,” B’Elanna said, shrugged. “When he and I … got together, she started mouthing off about certain Klingon attributes. I cornered her one day and showed her a couple.”

“You never told me this,” Chakotay said, visibly upset.

B’Elanna was squirming with embarrassment. “It never came up?” she offered weakly.

The first officer stared at Seven, and the Borg felt like squirming herself. “You knew?” he asked.

“I was … informed of it,” she said uneasily.

He glared at the captain. “Which meant you knew as well,” he accused.

Janeway looked at him, but didn’t squirm. “Possibly,” she said dryly. “But if so, I forgot.”

Which cut through his anger, and served to sober the room as they remembered the seriousness of the situation, and the repercussions arising from it.

“This speculation is all well and good,” Janeway said, “but Lt. James is only a suspect. This is a Starfleet officer we’re talking about here, after all, and while I can’t say I know her that well, I find it hard to believe anyone would suddenly go berserk with jealousy over Chakotay.”

“Thank you,” Chakotay said in a wounded tone.

“You know what I mean,” she said, looking at him sternly.

Tuvok frowned. “Not at the moment,” he said, trying to get things back on track. “Now that we have a prime suspect, however… “

“I can kill her,” B’Elanna snarled.

“Belay that,” Janeway cautioned. She glanced at her chief of security. “Tuvok, I want you to investigate this thoroughly. In the meantime, I want to be kept informed of any new findings immediately.” She favored the rest of them with a raised eyebrow. “Dismissed.”

The other three immediately vacated the conference room, though Seven lingered, wanting to speak with the captain. Janeway looked at her curiously.

“Did you wish me to prepare dinner tonight?” Seven said with a touch of irritation. It hadn’t been what she had intended to say. She was worried for the captain, and had wanted to ask her to take care of herself but absurdly, this had slipped out instead. She didn’t know why.

An odd expression crossed Janeway’s face. “I didn’t call, did I?” she replied in a quiet tone. She smiled wryly. “Up to my old tricks.”

Seven was embarrassed. “My apologies, Captain, I forgot myself,” she said softly. “I understand that there is no reason for you to inform me of your plans.”

“No, you deserve the courtesy of knowing whether I’ll be home for dinner,” Janeway said gently. “Regardless of where our relationship is at the moment.” She hesitated, seemed to be searching for something to say. “I know this is hard for you, Seven. The more logs I read, the more I realize how very difficult it must be. I know that as much as … I felt for you, you must feel the same. All I can ask is for your continued patience.”

“You have it,” Seven replied, though her heart rippled painfully. The captain had ‘felt’ for her, had used the past tense as if she did not think she would ever feel the same again. For all Seven knew, Janeway never would. Seven tried very hard not to allow her feelings to show on her face.

“I have … an astrometrics report,” she said, lying to Kathryn for the first time in her life. She stood up. “I will be very late returning to our quarters.”

“Very well,” Janeway said quietly, staring at her.

Seven left the conference room, wanting to be gone before she revealed more than she thought would be good. She had reached cargo bay two before she realized where she was going, and she walked into the cavernous bay with a dazed sort of confusion.

Uncertainly, she moved over to the Borg alcoves which still remained, a faint greenish glow surrounding them, though most of their functions had been shut down now that she no longer needed to regenerate. Wearily, she sat down on the dais, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring blankly into the room.

What am I going to do? she thought miserably.

Janeway set her padd down gently on the night stand, the last of the personal logs finally complete. She noted wryly that she had neglected to make any new ones since her accident, and realized she would have to start soon. On the stand, beside the padds, there was a small, blue velvet box and her fingers rested on it momentarily. Inside, she knew, was a diamond ring, originally her mother’s, given to Seven to give to the captain which the Borg had done on Janeway’s birthday only weeks before. Starfleet regs required that personal jewelry, even engagement rings, were not to be worn on duty so it remained in its box most of the time. Janeway wondered if she had worn it much at all, though according to her logs, it had been a deeply touching moment when Seven had presented it to her, along with her proposal of marriage.

She took a breath, settling back onto the pillow, and was startled once more by her reflection in the mirror which loomed over her. She wondered uneasily if the damned thing was securely fastened, then felt her lips twitch as she remembered the log she had read regarding Seven’s reaction the day maintenance had installed the thing. Janeway got the sense that she had enjoyed planning surprises for Seven as much as the Borg liked planning surprises for her.

Will we ever do that again? she asked herself sadly. Come up with outrageous schemes just so we can surprise each other? Will I ever feel for Seven what I so clearly did just a few weeks ago?

She wondered if Lt. James, if she indeed was the one behind the sabotage, understood what she had cost the captain and Seven. Or if she even cared.

The captain lowered the lights until there was only the dim illumination from the passing stars coming through the window above her head. The bed seemed far too large and much too cold for her to be able to sleep, but she knew she must. Tomorrow was another day, and undoubtedly would be as full as the previous ones had been.

She discovered she was listening for the door in the outer room, wondering if Seven would return soon. Though the Borg had started off with such hopeful optimism in the beginning, she was unable to keep her spirits up in the continued reality of Janeway’s memory loss. As time went on, Seven continued to prepare dinner for them both every night, but discussion over the table was strained, and the Borg had begun to find reasons to leave the quarters immediately afterward, not returning until late in the evening.

At first, Janeway had been grateful for the space Seven offered as she caught up on her data, and became used to the way things were, but the captain discovered she felt real disappointment when Seven made her excuse to leave lately. She missed the young woman’s presence, missed having her around the quarters with her, and she remembered that first evening where they had talked of wine as the one occasion which had been the most enjoyable since her accident. Janeway wanted to spend all her evenings like that, though so far, she had been unable to come up with the courage to tell Seven how she felt.

Janeway knew what it was she was supposed to feel for Seven. She knew what they had experienced, what they had gone through together both professionally and personally, but she simply couldn’t connect it with herself. It was as if she was reading a story about some stranger’s life. A raw, passionate, loving story, she thought dismally, but not hers. Someone else’s. What she felt for Seven now was uncertain, confused, and she was unable to identify it precisely, let alone compare it to the great love she could no longer remember.

She heard the hiss of the outer door, and immediately closed her eyes. She didn’t know why she pretended to be asleep when Seven came home, but she always did. Just as Seven always stood for a few moments in the doorway, looking at her in the darkness though how good Seven’s enhanced night vision actually was, Janeway did not know. She herself could barely see the outline of the tall slender form through slitted eyelids, careful to keep her breathing deep and even. Then the woman drifted away, and Janeway heard her move about the living area, making up the couch, detecting the soft squeaks as she climbed into the bedding.

Jake would be waiting for Seven there, the captain knew. She had heard the scrabble of his paws across the carpet while Seven had been standing in the doorway, and the two times the captain had managed to get up before Seven, the puppy was inevitably ensconced in the spot next to the tall blonde, between the crook of Seven’s right arm and her rib cage, his head resting either on her shoulder, or, in the event he had turned around, on her belly. Janeway had found it incredibly touching, and suspected she would have found it even more so had she full access to her memories of the cool, aloof, contained woman.

Somehow she finally managed to drift off to sleep, the image of a curvaceous form, of the blonde hair and pale, ice-blue eyes threading irrevokable through her mind.

The tall Borg was garbed in a black leather outfit, the body armor covering her from the neck down, a thick material which displayed the new implants the nanoprobes had reactivated. The beautiful long blonde hair was gone, leaving a bald scalp dotted with black and silver circuitry, while Seven’s skin had regained its whitened hue, a thin layer of moisture from the humid air covering it. The humanoid left eye the Doctor had created had been replaced with a solid ruby gem and the beam of light which emanated from it traced the length of Janeway from the top of her head to the tips of her boots, then over to rake Tuvok with chilling detachment. Janeway knew they were being scanned, analyzed, identified.

The thick air had a debilitating affect, leaving their hair limp and dripping, while dark patches spread from under their arms and down the front of their outfits. It was hard to breathe and Janeway’s chest felt heavy.

“Seven?” she asked, her voice a croak of uncertainty.

“I shall assimilate this one,” Seven said.

With disbelief, Janeway watched Seven take a step toward her and she could not help crying out as she was gripped by a hand which raised her head, baring her throat.

“Annika, what are you doing?” she said. “Please, fight this.”

She looked deep into Seven’s red-rimmed pale eyes, seeking something, anything, that would give her a sense of the woman she had know. The gaze met hers squarely, and Janeway felt a soul-deep horror overwhelm her as she looked into a face that held no mercy, no compassion.

No love.

She struggled as twin tubules speared out of Seven’s left hand and felt sharp agony as they punched into her neck, injecting her with nanoprobes. Terror gripped her as her body was suddenly not her own, and a duller pain flared in her face as a starburst implant erupted from her right cheek. Her mind was flooded with voices, so many voices, which cascaded into her brain, instantly suppressing her resistance, her fury.

Then Kathryn Janeway was no more.

Janeway screamed, sitting straight up in the bed, drew breath to scream again and cut it off as she realized it had only been a dream. Or a memory. In either case, it left her sweating, and terrified, taking her a few moments before she realized she was not alone, before she became aware of the woman who was next to her, holding her, soothing her.

“It is all right, Kathryn,” Seven whispered. “I am right here.”

Janeway supposed that at this point, she should push the woman away, letting her know that she was finally awake, and once more in control. Instead she wrapped her arms around the tall woman’s neck and clung to her, hugging her as tightly as she could. She buried her face in the soft hollow of Seven’s throat and shoulder, letting her tears flow freely, all the fear, the doubt, the terror cascading out of her in this uncontrolled weeping. The young woman rocked her, rubbing her back gently and more than once, Janeway felt the warm brush of lips across her forehead, at her temple, on the top of her head.

Finally, the tears stopped, but Janeway refused to let go. It was Seven that finally loosened the embrace, drawing back until she was sitting on the edge of the bed a few feet away. The lights had been brought up, Janeway noted, and she blinked hard to clear her vision, sniffing audibly as she looked at Seven. The Starfleet-issued grey pyjamas did absolutely nothing for the woman, the captain thought idly but the rest was spectacular. The blonde hair hung tousled about the fine features which were sharp with concern, while the eyes, normally so light, were dark and shadowed, the pupils large, leaving only a narrow circle of blue. The full lips were trembling ever so slightly, and Seven didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands.

“Are you all right, Captain?” she asked formally.

“I …” Janeway began then stopped, aghast at how weak her voice was. She swallowed hard and tried again. “It was a nightmare.” She hesitated, searching the face, seeing nothing of the Borg in her dream, and everything of the woman she had come to know through the captain’s logs. “No, I think it was a memory.”

“Not a good one, apparently,” Seven noted. She looked very concerned.

“No,” Janeway agreed, then managed a faint grin. “Perhaps the large traumatic ones have to show up before the smaller, more wonderful ones do?”

“Perhaps,” Seven agreed slowly. There was a pause as they gazed at each other, then Seven looked away. “If you are all right, I must return to the other room,” she said softly.

“No,” Janeway said, surprising herself as she reached out to wrap her fingers tightly about the woman’s wrist, but even as she did, she knew this was right. Seven’s eyes turned to meet hers, uncertainty clouding them, and the captain smiled reassuringly. “We normally don’t sleep in separate rooms, do we?”

Seven regarded her for long moments, various emotions chasing across her face. Janeway wondered if Seven knew how obvious some of her expressions were.

“No,” the Borg admitted finally, softly. “We do not.”

“Stay with me,” Janeway requested. “I want you to sleep with me.”

Seven was clearly reluctant, but the captain realized it was only because the Borg thought she should be. The truth was, Seven wanted to accede to this request so much that Janeway could see the ache in her gaze. “Come on,” the captain insisted gently, pulling Seven into the bed with her.

The Borg could have easily resisted, could have stopped it all with merely a word, but she did not. Instead, she slipped between the sheets next to the captain, lying stiffly on her back as Janeway settled next to her. Bringing the lights down with a soft command, Janeway carefully put her head on Seven’s shoulder, resting her hand on the woman’s chest, feeling the flutter of heartbeat through the thin material of the Borg’s pyjamas. Obscurely, Janeway was pleased that she had worn a nightgown of deep sapphire, not knowing why, just glad that she had chosen it.

Gradually, the body next to her relaxed, and Janeway felt the woman’s left arm slide tentatively around her. She sighed and snuggled closer, feeling drowsiness slip over her.

“Good night, Annika,” she said softly.

“Good night … Kathryn,” Seven responded quietly.

Janeway smiled and went to sleep.

Janeway woke up in pleasant warmth, sprawled on her belly across something that was not as smooth as a mattress, but managed to be as comfortable. She blinked sleepily, then realized she was laying on top of Seven’s back, the blonde woman turned away from her, though if the captain raised her head a little, she had a perfect view of that elegant profile, the one delicate ear surrounded by golden strands of hair. Before she had quite realized what she was doing, Janeway had brushed her lips over the shell-like curve of it, feeling a quiver go through the body beneath her.

She took another look at the profile, and realized the eyes were half open. She wondered how long Seven had been awake, remaining perfectly still as the captain snoozed away on top of her. Even now she was waiting patiently for Janeway to move, to roll off, not indicating how very difficult this must be for her.

Janeway felt a wave of tenderness rush through her, and she bent down again, gently kissing the long line of neck, feeling the pulse throb under her mouth. Then she kissed Seven again, tracing the very soft spot where jaw met earlobe.

“Don’t,” Seven whispered. “Please.”

Startled, Janeway hesitated, looking down at her. Seven was very still, but as Janeway watched, a tiny tear slipped between the sandy lashes of the eye framed with the metallic implant, and slid down the curve of her cheek. Janeway felt her heart catch, and impulsively she leaned forward and captured the tear on one fingertip.

“I’m sorry, Annika,” Janeway whispered. She kissed her temple lightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Seven’s eyes closed and she shivered, breathing deeply. “I know,” she said. “It still does, however.”

Disconcerted, Janeway drew back as Seven moved then, the young woman uncoiling from the bed and darting into the ensuite. The captain lay on her side, raised up on her elbow as she tried to organize her thoughts, tried to comprehend not only what she was feeling, but what she should say to Seven. Unfortunately, the Borg did not grant her the time needed to figure it out, abruptly exiting the ensuite completely dressed, doing up the last of her coiffure at the back of her neck.

She hesitated as she saw Janeway gazing at her. “I must report to astrometrics,” she said coolly, but the captain could hear the underlying quaver in her voice. “Will you feed Jake? His nutritional supplement is already programmed in.”

“Of course,” Janeway replied softly. “Seven, listen…”

But Seven was already striding rapidly out through the outer living area, the door leading to the corridor sliding shut behind her with a muted hiss of finality. Janeway slumped back onto her pillows, covering her eyes with her arms.

“Damn,” she said succinctly.

She took several deep breaths, trying to bring her racing heart under control, then finally got up. The puppy seemed somewhat stunned to see the captain feeding him, and he looked uncertainly at her before chewing his breakfast gingerly. She made a face at him, and returned to the ensuite where she showered and dressed quickly. She paused in the outer room, wondering what she was forgetting, then realized that neither her breakfast nor the thermos of coffee had been prepared. Obviously, she had shaken the young woman’s composure considerably.

Can I blame her? she chastised herself. My god, I practically jumped on her with no warning. What the hell did I think I was doing?

She considered her actions gloomily all the way to deck one, greeting her staff absently as the regular meeting of department heads took place in the conference room. Her thoughts chased each other round and round, rather like Jake after his tail, and she was uncertain what it was she was trying so hard to grasp. When it did come to her, it was like a flash of enlightenment, occurring in the middle of the Doctor’s report which she had not been listening to at all, content that her padd would record it. She straightened abruptly, inadvertently making a sound halfway between a yip and a stifled laugh.

Startled, her bridge crew looked at her, and she smiled at them weakly. “Clearing my throat,” she said.

They did not believe her, but clearly did not want to pursue it, so the meeting continued, the interruption being overlooked for which Janeway was profoundly grateful. When the briefing finally ended, she asked that B’Elanna stay behind. Apprehensively, the engineer did so, frowning as the captain made her request. She protested, but when Janeway unbent enough to explain some of what she had in mind, the Klingon grudgingly agreed to take on the responsibility, promising to pick up her charge by mid-afternoon.

Janeway logged off duty a few hours early, ignoring Chakotay’s quizzical look. She wasn’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but it was better than waiting around. Patience had never been her strong suit, and action was always preferable to allowing things to happen at their own pace. She felt the need to push them along, knowing that sometimes that all a situation required was a little boost from an unexpected source to reach a resolution.

When she finished up the preparations in her quarters early, however, she found she was pacing restlessly, the doubts having time to settle in as she awaited Seven’s arrival. She forced herself to pause by the work area, leaning in what she hoped was a casual manner against the desks, arms across her chest. A part of her wondered if she might not be jumping the gun yet again. On the other hand, there was no question that she and Seven could not continue to carry on the way they were. If something was not done, and soon, it was possible the repercussions could be devastating.

Of course, she thought uneasily as the door to her quarters hissed open, the consequences of this might be equally as dicey.

Seven stopped dead as she entered the room, looking around with confusion at the candles spread in profusion over counters and tables, at the holographic image of a fireplace crackling warmly from the wall where the dining table usually sat. The dining table itself had been collapsed, and was leaning against the hull, tucked under a nearby shelf, while the chairs had been stacked neatly behind the desks in the work area. In front of the faux fire, which actually emanated heat, there was a low table filled with plates of finger foods, along with a bottle of wine. Several cushions had been piled on the floor, providing a comfortable place to sit or recline.

Janeway felt Seven’s eyes rake her up and down, no doubt taking in the brief top and gauzy trousers, doing her best not to flush hotly under the sardonic gaze. Deliberately, Seven straightened, linking her hands formally behind her back as she tilted her head so that her metallic eyepiece was closest to the smaller woman.

“Captain?” she said, a wealth of question in the tone.

“Seven,” Janeway said, forcing a smile to cover her nervousness. “I decided it was my turn to make dinner tonight.”

“You cooked?” Seven’s voice was clearly disbelieving.

“I replicated,” Janeway said dryly. “But I did do the programming all by myself.”

She kicked herself mentally as Seven seemed to flinch. Easy on the sarcasm Katie, she thought. You need to take this slow, treat the woman as if she were a frightened animal that had to be tamed carefully before …. what exactly?

Janeway hadn’t worked that out yet, but she knew she had to convince Seven not to run before she even got started. “I do appreciate Mother’s recipes,” she said softly. “Sometimes, however, I get the craving for other types of food, both from Earth, and from other cultures in the Alpha Quadrant.” Taking Seven’s hand, Janeway led her over to the cushions, and at her direction, the Borg sank uncertainly onto the most comfortable one, crossing her long legs under her.

“You do?” Clearly this was news to Seven.

“It was probably taking me a while to get around to sharing that,” Janeway said easily as she knelt beside Seven, positioning herself on her knees between the young woman, and the table. “After four years of Neelix’s cooking, most likely I was so grateful for yours that I hadn’t gotten so far as to say I like alien cuisine as well. Truly Seven, I believe there are things about me that you don’t know.”

“I am beginning to believe that as well,” Seven said slowly. She glanced around. “Where is Jake?”

“B’Elanna is keeping him tonight,” Janeway said. “Obviously I couldn’t have served this type of cuisine in the traditional manner if he were around.”

Seven looked at the low table which was barely six inches off the deck, exactly the right height for a puppy to graze at will. “Obviously,” she agreed. She looked the Janeway with bemusement. “I still do not understand why you are doing this,” she said.

“Because you’ve prepared dinner for me many times,” Janeway responded gently. “I wished to return the gesture.”

Seven considered that, then drew back in surprise as Janeway offered her a morsel from one of the plates. Janeway could see the whites rimming the blonde’s pale eyes as she looked first at it, then at her.

“With this type of cuisine,” Janeway explained gently. “It is customary for the hostess … that’s me … to feed the guest by hand.”

Seven just stared at her. “What culture is this cuisine from?” she asked.

“Orion Traders,” Janeway replied guilelessly. “With the food adapted for our more Human sensibilities, of course.”

“I am unfamiliar with the Orion culture,” Seven said, frowning.

“Good … I mean, it’s good to be exposed to new things now and again, isn’t it?” Janeway asked. She had been afraid that Seven would point out that she wasn’t green, among other objections.

“Yes,” Seven said slowly, then gingerly accepted the morsel, carefully taking it between her teeth. She chewed it slowly, staring at Janeway the entire time as if she had never seen her before.

“Do you like it?” Janeway asked gently.

“It is very good,” Seven allowed. She accepted the next meat filled pastry with less apprehension, and then another. She hesitantly allowed Janeway to hold the glass of wine to her lips where she could sip it. “I do not understand this culture,” she complained after a few moments. “What is the purpose of dining this way?”

“It’s a way for two people to get to know each other better,” Janeway told her. “I need to get to know you better, Seven … especially since we’re living together.”

Seven frowned at that, but Janeway ignored her expression, continuing to feed Seven from the table, taking portions for herself now and again. She drank from the same wineglass as Seven, making sure that the younger woman saw her lick a few drops from the rim. Her fingers started to linger at Seven’s mouth as she fed her, taking the opportunity to trace the lips gently with her fingertips. Seven grew steadily disquieted, especially when Janeway moved closer until she was just behind her, only a breath between them.

“What are you doing?” Seven asked finally, huskily.

“Getting to know you again,” Janeway repeated. She let her lips casually brush over Seven’s neck, just above the collar of the brown mesh outfit.

Seven shivered. “This is wrong,”” she said unhappily. “You do not remember me. You do not remember us.”

“No,” Janeway said and dared to reach her arm across Seven’s chest, resting her chin on the slender shoulder. “I don’t. Annika, we have to accept that I may never remember, but in the meantime, it’s tearing you up inside, and making me crazy. I believe I know why I fell in love with you the first time. I definitely know why I’m so attracted to you now.” She hesitated. “I just want to learn how to love you again, Annika. Is that wrong?”

Seven was silent for long moments, head bent. “It is not wrong,” she admitted softly. “But it is unexpected.”

Janeway pulled Seven to her in a gentle hug. “Darling, I want to be with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Seven said.

“I’m telling you now,” Janeway said huskily. She took a breath. “Do you still love me?”

Seven seemed to shiver. “I never stopped,” she said in a choked voice. “I will always love you.”

“Then help me learn how to love you again, Annika,” Janeway said humbly. “Let me make my mistakes all over again, and be wrong more times than I’m right, and put up with me when I’m grumpy and neglectful, always knowing I’ll never once stop needing you with all I am.” Gently, she kissed Seven’s ear. “You hold my heart, Annika. Please, help me find it again.”

Seven did not move, did not speak for what seemed an eternity.

“Yes,” she said finally. “I will help you.”

Janeway closed her eyes in relief. “Thank you, darling,” she whispered.

Seven turned around, and Janeway wrapped her arms around her, snuggling into the lean, lanky body. Hesitantly, Seven stroked her hair. “Kathryn, what if you … what if you cannot?” she said softly.

“Cannot what?” Janeway said, putting her hand up to touch Seven’s cheek, cupping it warmly in her palm, straightening so that she could look into the young woman’s narrow features.

“What if you cannot learn to love me again?” Seven asked, eyes wide with apprehension.

Janeway laughed softly. “Darling, I’m half in love with you already,” she told her. “Please believe me when I tell you that, Annika. Trust me when I say I don’t have too much farther to fall.”

Seven considered that. “Why?” she asked.

Janeway blinked. “I don’t understand the question,” she said.

Seven looked away. “I never understood why you loved me in the first place,” she said in a small voice.

Janeway smiled gently. “Oh, Annika, there are so many wonderful things about you,” she said, nuzzling her chin. “I have no doubt that they were the same reasons I’m attracted to you now. Your incredible mind, that wonderful intellect that so challenges and intrigues me. That warm, loving nature that looks after stray puppies and lost Starfleet captains even as you pretend it’s simply the most efficient way to function. The way you totally support me even as you never let me get away with a thing.” She put her finger under Seven’s chin, turning her face so that the younger woman was once more looking into her eyes. “Do you know that your beautiful face lights up when you see me even though you think you’re being totally impassive. Then looks so hurt when it seems I don’t notice you. Annika, I always notice you. I was always aware of your existence, even though I didn’t remember you.”

When Seven did not react much to this admission, Janeway slipped her arms around the Borg’s neck and kissed her, just a gentle exploration, an unsure foray by the captain to familiarize herself with the younger woman’s mouth again. Seven kissed her back with extreme care, arms holding her lightly, as if afraid the captain would suddenly disappear if she tried to grasp her any tighter.

Janeway laughed throatily as they parted. “Annika, I don’t know how I know this, but I’m positive you can do better than that.”

Seven took a breath. “Yes,” she admitted. “I can.”

She pressed her lips to Janeway’s, putting her whole heart into it, as well as a focused intent that shut the rest of the universe completely out of existence. Janeway was astounded, amazed and completely overwhelmed by the kiss, feeling her toes actually curl from the sensation. When Seven finally released her, Janeway had to take a second to find her voice.

“Well,” Janeway said with shaky satisfaction. “That was more like it.”

“Kathryn,” Seven said, and there was a odd timber to the name that made Janeway actually quiver from just the sound of it. She caught Seven’s gaze in her own, staring deep into the pupils which had expanded, leaving only a sliver of blue around them.

“Yes?” Janeway responded, a lot less certainty in her tone now.

“What would you like me to teach you first?” the Borg asked.

Janeway’s lips twitched. “If I wanted to remove that outfit of yours,” she queried gently. “How would I go about it exactly? Just for future reference, you understand.”

“The fastening is at the base of my neck,” Seven told her, raising an eyebrow. “It opens down the back.”

“That’s all I need to know for now,” Janeway said politely, and pulled the blonde head down for another one of those all absorbing, totally earthshattering, kisses.

Seven didn’t know how long they spend kissing passionately in front of the fireplace, but gradually she realized that there was an insistency about Janeway that was not right. At first Seven had been more than glad to return the urgent caresses, but after a time, it felt just a bit too desperate, and Seven decided that perhaps they needed to slow things down a bit. She had the impression that Janeway was pressing too hard, trying to recapture everything at once. Somehow, Seven knew that was not the correct thing to do, and she finally managed to deflect Janeway’s advances into a snuggled embrace on the cushions.

“Annika,” Janeway said softly, once she understood what Seven was doing. “Don’t you want to…?”

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven replied quietly, holding her tighter. “I do … more than anything … but I do not think it can be tonight. You are not ready, and neither am I.”

Janeway was silent for a long time, confusion shading her eyes to grey, and Seven was afraid that she had not phrased it properly, that she had destroyed what she had been trying so hard to preserve. Finally, Janeway sighed. “I think you’re right,” she admitted softly. “I guess I was jumping the gun after all.” She looked intently at Seven. “Please, don’t give up on me,” she said, face pleading.

Seven blinked, startled. “I will never give up on you,” Seven promised her. “I will always love you, Kathryn. That will never change.”

“I won’t give up either,” Kathryn said, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against Seven’s. “I’ll make it back to you, Annika. I swear I will.”

“I will be here,” Seven assured her. She touched the captain’s cheek gently. “Kathryn, it is all right.”

“Is it?” Janeway asked bleakly. “I want to be with you, Annika. I need to be with you…. I know I’m trying too hard, Annika, but I feel as if I don’t grab it right now, it will slip through my fingers.” She met Seven’s eyes. “Then, I’ll lose you.”

“You will not lose me,” Seven told her earnestly. “Kathryn, I thought I should stay away until you had adapted to me again, but I understand now that it was wrong to deal with the situation in that manner. We must both take our time with this, be very careful with it. It is too precious a thing to rush and possibly mishandle, but Kathryn, we can still be together. When it is right for us to make love, we will know.”

Janeway exhaled, and relaxed marginally in her arms. “You’re right,” she said finally. She managed a wry grin. “My mother always told me I was too impatient. I guess I need to listen to that advice and not try to force this.”

“I believe that would be best,” Seven said with an odd sort of relief. She hugged Janeway tightly, and kissed her on the forehead. “I do love you, Kathryn … with everything I am.”

“I believe you,” Janeway said. She hesitated. “Will you sleep in the bed with me, at least?”

“I think that would be an important lesson in learning how to be close again,” Seven said, considering it very seriously. “Particularly in getting to know each other better.”

Janeway’s lips twitched. “Then I’ll settle for that,” she said. She smiled. “In the meantime, will you kiss me some more?”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “Of course,” she said.

Pulling Kathryn to her, she kissed her as deeply as she could, somehow knowing things would be all right. No matter how much time it took.

Jake sighed, resting his head on his paws as he lay in his puppy bed. He could not sleep because this wasn’t home. Of course, home had not exactly been home lately either. His people were so unhappy, orbiting around each other like competing predators rather than the pack members they were. He did not understand what had happened, only that things had changed, and where once there had been a unity of purpose, now his pack was splintered.

Abruptly he had been handed it over the bristly female, this ‘B’Elanna’. She didn’t really have bristles of course, nor quills, but that was how he felt around her, though she did try to be kind to him, and fed him all sorts of things that he knew his large person would not approve of.

His large person. His brown eyes grew moist. ‘Seven’ was her name, an oddly harsh designation for someone he knew as so warm and loving. She had been very distant in recent memory. Was it possible that his people, his ‘Seven’ and the other, smaller person, would not come back for him? That he was to stay here forever? It would not be the first time he had been taken from all he had known, taken away from his mother by the one who resembled his small person, though there had been an undefinable difference between the two.

That thought disquieted him, and he raised his head mournfully. Seven had been absent more and more recently, and though she always took him into her bed with her when she did come home, he could sense her deep unhappiness, felt her tears wet his coat night after night, and could do nothing to make it better, all his licks and sympathetic whines notwithstanding. Though his smaller one still played with him, she received no joy from it as she had before … so he did not either.

The smaller one had two names, he knew. ‘Captain’. Or ‘Kathryn’. When Seven said ‘Captain’, it was all cool and remote, as if she felt nothing for the woman. When she said ‘Kathryn’, however, it was filled with such love and emotion that it inevitably made his tail wag when he heard it. He thought it would make the smaller one’s tail wag as well, if she had one.

Seven had not said ‘Kathryn’ for a long time.

His pack was being destroyed, and he could do nothing. He wanted to whimper, to howl out his agony, but he did not. B’Elanna did not like it when he howled and her voice had a very unpleasant rasp when she yelled. She did yell. Frequently. So instead, he slumped back down onto his bed and felt very, very bad.

The soft hiss of the door opening made his ears flick, and with a vague interest, he raised his head, looking at the place where the stranger entered, moving stealthily through the room. He sniffed, trying to recognize the scent. Female. Human.

Frightened, and dangerously so.

He cowered, ears lowered as he heard the soft tread of footsteps. It was headed to the room where he knew his present keeper was sleeping. Somehow, he understood this newcomer was a threat, not to him, but to B’Elanna. The bristly one was not entirely of his pack, but his pack accepted her as a necessary part of their world. It would not be good to lose her.

Uncertainly he dashed out, barking as loudly as his young vocal cords could afford. There was confusion then, as he somehow ran under the feet of the stranger, he yelped as a foot impacted solidly with his ribs, kicking him aside. He yelped, limping over to hide beneath the table, blinking in the sudden light.

B’Elanna stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed in a brief, sheer black gown. Her eyes were hot as she glared at the stranger, lips drawn back over her teeth in a snarl.

“You want a piece of me?” B’Elanna growled at the startled, and now on the defensive, Angela James, though the science officer was armed with a phaser while the Klingon had no weapons at all.

Jake did not understand the words of course, but he appreciated the snarl, encouraging him to provide one of his own, his upper lip drawing back over his still growing baby canines. There was more confusion as the phaser suddenly went off, but B’Elanna was already moving, and it missed her, though not the vase behind her which exploded quite nicely. Excited, Jake dashed into the room and again got tangled up, this time with B’Elanna, though thankfully, she did not kick him. Instead, she fell over him, crashing to the deck with a resounding thud which echoed throughout the small room.

A real predator would have taken advantage of B’Elanna’s momentary weakness … the gown was up around her head, obscuring her vision … but the stranger took one look at the otherwise naked, firmly muscled form, and fled, running for her life out the door. Cursing, B’Elanna got herself straightened around and pounded after her, yelling loudly for the computer to contact Tuvok, the captain, Chakotay, and Kahless himself if he happened to be in the area.

Jake was hard at her heels, yipping in response and keeping his eyes on B’Elanna as they ran through these long tunnels. He recognized this odd place as one where he had been before, but never without his leash. He was tremendously thrilled at the freedom he was suddenly being allowed. B’Elanna was brought up short in the juncture of a cross corridor, staring up one, then the other, trying to see which way her prey had went. Jake shot her a confused glance. Couldn’t she smell that the intruder had gone this way?

Barking loudly, he slid around the corner and plunged down the new corridor, gratified when B’Elanna followed, overtaking him when they caught sight of a heel disappearing into the turbolift. Jake scrambled eagerly after his quarry, suddenly hearing a struggle ahead, brief and to the point and as he skidded to a stop, he was absolutely gratified to see his people. Seven had the intruder by the neck with her Borg enhanced left hand, holding James a good two feet off the ground while Kathryn had B’Elanna backed against the wall, holding her back with a forearm across her upper chest.

“That’s enough, Lieutenant,” she snapped loudly, and finally B’Elanna ceased in her attempt to get at the woman. The captain looked at her partner. “Seven, ease up on your grip, she’s turning blue.”

Jake promptly sat down, watching all this with bright eyes, ears perked alertly. This was more excitement than he could ever remember experiencing, and best of all, his nose was telling him that things were suddenly all right. Kathryn had Seven’s scent smeared all over her, while Seven was literally reeking of Kathryn. Jake knew what that meant. They had been playing together in that odd little way where they cuddled very close and put their mouths together.

When they did it in the living area where he could see them, it looked like so much fun that he had often tried to join in, usually interrupting them though they never seemed to mind. Once however, they had been doing it on the couch and it had changed in intensity. They suddenly began to remove their outer coverings, pressing their bare flesh against each other and making strange sounds. These sounds had startled and confused him, making him leap up onto the side of the couch where he inadvertently nipped the one on top in the fleshiest part of her buttock, making her scream so loud that he had immediately bolted, tail between his legs, cowering under the desk. He remained hidden as she had leaped to her feet, protesting verbally at great length while the one still laying the couch had laughed until she cried.

After that, the two females always retired to their bedroom and closed the door when their playing grew intense, but he always knew that no matter what else, when they played together, it meant they were happy both with themselves and each other.

If his people were happy, then he was happy. His tail thumped a steady tatoo on the deck, jaws parted in an ecstatic grin. Perhaps now they would once again concentrate on what was really important.

Feeding and loving him.

“Seven, let her go,” Janeway repeated.

Seven did not seem inclined to obey her order, and Janeway had to say it again, injecting her voice with the sharp whip of command. Seven glanced at her, and Janeway felt a shiver go through her at the cold expression in the pale eyes, but finally the Borg seemed to come back to herself, and she released her captive, allowing the brunette lieutenant to collapse to the ground where she curled, gasping for air.

Chakotay suddenly appeared, wearing only pyjama bottoms, his feet and broad chest bare. Behind him was Tuvok with a full security team. If Vulcans were capable of embarrassment, then he would be prostrate with humiliation, Janeway thought. As it was, his skin was darker than Janeway had ever seen before, and she raised an eyebrow. She did not know her chief of security could flush like that.

“Captain,” he said with difficulty. “I must apologize. She slipped our surveillance.”

“Why are you apologizing to the captain?” B’Elanna yelped. “I was the one the bitch tried to kill.”

“Well, she won’t be trying again,” Janeway said darkly, frowning as she watched them take the young Starfleet officer into custody. She held up a hand, postponing their dragging her away. “Why?” she asked, looking into the woman’s wild eyes.

“What choice did I have?” James said bitterly. “Your pet Klingon threatened my life. I couldn’t go to Chakotay. He was screwing her. I couldn’t go to you. She was your woman’s best friend. You’d let her get away with murder. I had to protect myself.”

Janeway blinked. “I don’t know how you came to such a conclusion,” she said harshly. “But you made the wrong decision.”

“I’m still alive,” Angela said.

“Not for long,” B’Elanna spat.

“Belay that,” Janeway thundered, her patience at an end. She glared at B’Elanna, and it seemed that her engineer realized she had gone too far, paling slightly. Janeway rarely raised her voice. That made it all the more effective when the time came that she finally had to. She took a breath, composing herself as she turned back to James. “You’ll have a chance to tell your side in a general court martial.”

“At least you can’t just let her kill me,” James said with satisfaction. “Too many witnesses now.”

Tuvok made a motion with his head and his security team took her away. Janeway looked at B’Elanna who was still fuming, hands balled into fists, arms half raised as if preparing to fight. Chakotay was standing next to her, hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

“She’s nuts, you know,” the Klingon complained.

“Possibly,” Janeway agreed, but she was troubled just the same. She shook her head, dismissing it for the moment, and looked at Seven who was standing motionless, hands at her sides. Her face was impassive, but her eyes glittered.

“She almost killed you,” she said flatly when she saw the captain looking at her.

“But she didn’t,” Janeway reminded her gently. “Even if she had, she still has to face Starfleet justice. Not Klingon. Not Borg.”

Seven took a breath then, and seemed to relax though her posture changed very little. “I will comply,” she said. Accepting, but not submissive. A promise of loyalty, not given but earned, though how Janeway realized that, she didn’t know.

Jake barked then and scrambled up to her. Janeway frowned and knelt down. “What are you doing out?” she said.

B’Elanna brightened. “He actually warned me,” she told the captain. “If his barking hadn’t woken me, James would have had a clean shot. He helped track her down.”

“Indeed,” Janeway said and despite the situation, smiled. She picked him up, and he snuggled happily in her arms as if knowing everything was all right now. He licked her face and she turned her head, embarrassed to be seen like this.

“By the way, Seven,” B’Elanna noted then. “That’s one hell of a robe.”

Janeway looked at Seven and realized the robe that the Borg had grabbed on the way out the door was far too small for her. The black silk restrained the full bosom with difficulty, and the hem barely came down her thigh. When she had been holding James up in the air, it was entirely possible that the robe would have ridden up considerably.

Janeway had not noticed at the time, and she certainly hoped no one else had either. She knew full well that Seven wore nothing beneath the brief garment, having been in the middle of her ablutions in the bathroom when the call had come in. Janeway was much better off, already in bed with her nightgown on, and the robe she had grabbed was far more conservative, a pale blue terrycloth which covered her from neck to ankles.

Seven regarded the engineer evenly. “It is adequate for its purpose,” she said. “As yours appears to be.”

B’Elanna took a look down as if just now realizing that she was clad only in a thin nightie that left little to the imagination. She flushed hotly, and Janeway was hard pressed not to smile as the Klingon crossed her arms firmly over her chest, trying not to look too self-conscious.

Eyes suddenly dancing, Seven nodded at Jake still being held by the captain. “Shall I retrieve his bed from B’Elanna’s?”

“I think so,” Janeway agreed. “He might as well come home, too.”

She and Seven exchanged warm glances, then the Borg and B’Elanna went off to get Jake’s stuff. Janeway looked at Chakotay, taking in his mussed, sleepy, ruggedly handsome appearance, very aware of her own informal attire. “I can’t help thinking that at one time, this sight would have raised a few eyebrows regarding our relationship,” she said dryly.

He raked his hand through his hair which did not serve to tidy it at all. “Once,” he agreed with a half grin. Then he sobered, changing the subject. “This might be bad, Kathryn.”

“Lt. James, you mean,” she said quietly. She nodded. “I’m worried that she may have had a point. B’Elanna admitted that she did threaten her life. You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything necessarily, but would Lt. James?”

“She should have handled it differently,” he said.

“Yes, she should have,” Janeway agreed. “But she didn’t. The question is, however, did she have any justification for acting as she did?”

“She almost killed you,” he said, staring at her.

“I know,” she said. “Which means I cannot act as Judge Advocate in this case. Neither can you because of your involvement with B’Elanna. Who will?”

He inhaled, seemed about to answer when they heard Seven and B’Elanna returning. The captain and first officer exchanged significant looks, and with unspoken agreement, put it on the back burner for the time being. They said their goodnights, then she and Seven headed for home while Chakotay went off with B’Elanna. Janeway wondered idly if he would spend the night with B’Elanna, and immediately suppressed that thought, decided that she was being entirely too nosy for her own good. Once she and Seven had returned to their quarters, she lowered Jake to the deck, realizing too late that it hadn’t been a particularly wise move as he made a beeline for the leftover food on the low table.

“Jake,” she protested.

He eyed her as if to ask what her problem was though he did not pause in his gobbling down of the bite-sized pastries and cheeses. Wasn’t he a hero? Didn’t he deserve this?

Seven put a hand on Janeway’s shoulder, restraining her as the captain moved toward him. “He needs to celebrate as well,” she said. The younger woman moved closer, slipping her arms around the captain’s waist and put her mouth to Janeway’s ear. “Doesn’t he?” she whispered.

Janeway leaned back into the embrace. “Do you think he knows?” she asked.

“That we are together again?” Seven said. “I believe he can tell that we are happy now, where before, we were not.”

Janeway took a breath. She hadn’t thought about Jake being able to sense that she and Seven had resolved things, in a matter of speaking. She found it pleased her. She turned around and slipped her arms around Seven’s neck. “Take me to bed, darling,” she requested. “I believe I am ready for my next lesson in learning how to love you.”

Seven smiled and pulled her close.

“I will teach you everything I know,” she promised. “No matter how long it takes.”

Epilogue

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

Lt. Angela James has been confined to the brig, and preparations continue for her court martial. I admit I am very uneasy about this. Not only have we have never held one in the entire five years we have been lost in the Delta Quadrant, it also seems that James may have something of a case. However, because I was an injured party in her crimes, I am unable to act in an official capacity. Nor is Chakotay. I don’t know who that leaves to act as a fair and impartial Judge. James has requested, surprisingly, that Harry Kim act as her advocate. On the other hand, I don’t know why I’m surprised. Harry is a good, solid, honest man, and he will do his best by her. Perhaps I’m just surprised he accepted.

My memory did not miraculously restore itself after Annika and I came to terms with each other, but there have been various flashes and images which come to me while I’m working or relaxing, triggered by whatever I’m doing. Sometimes, I even remember things without knowing I have until someone points out that the event happened before my accident, but after those events of three years ago. The Doctor says this is very promising, and that there may still be a good chance I shall one day remember everything. Other times I fear that I shall never remember at all. Still, I have the official records, my personal logs, and most of all, Annika to fill in any gaps that remain. It must be enough for now.

I worry sometimes that what I feel for her is not the same as what I felt before. Yet, I know in my heart that however it was originally, it could not be more than this all consuming passion that fills my heart. I also realize that Seven and I agreed not to rush things, and that it is merely a matter of time before we consummate this relationship, butI must say, I don’t know how much longer I can wait. It is becoming extremely difficult to lay beside Annika night after night, and do nothing. Snuggling is all very pleasant, but surely it’s time to elevate the intensity a little. I wonder how she would react if I were to start sleeping without a nightgown? Perhaps, I shall try that tonight. Surely, she is not made of stone … or even metal … all the way through.

Jake continues to grow like a weed. The size of his paws tells me he’s going to be a big dog someday. Seven keeps trying to convince me to let him sleep with us, and I have to point out that eventually he is going to be much too large to fit comfortably in the bed with us. It wouldn’t be fair to let him in, and then make him sleep on the floor. She looks very confused when I say this. I don’t know why.

The person I was three years ago, the one I remember fully, no longer exists and I can’t say in all honesty that I miss her. I’m happy now. I don’t think I ever managed that beyond a brief moment here and there during those years. Yet we continue to be lost in the Delta Quadrant and I continue to have the responsibility of getting this ship and crew home intact. However, the burden seems lighter now.

Perhaps because I now have someone to hold me up when it becomes too heavy.

The End

Back to Season One

On to Just Between Right & Wrong

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Epilogue