After Life

by Captain Katie-cat

A remarkable woman's life is remembered by those who knew her and thus loved her

1. Chapter 1

Title: After Life

Author: Captain Katie

Rating: NC-17 for homosexual content, violence and language

Pairing: J/7, Very mild J/C

Spoilers: MAJOR SPOILERS for Peter David's "Before Dishonor", a response to it really though you should be aware that everything is up for grabs

Summary: A remarkable woman's life is remembered by those who knew her and thus loved her

Disclaimer: Paramount owns anything relating to Star Trek, and the writers, especially Peter David, and actors/actresses own some of the words
WARNING: Major character death: Admiral Janeway dies at the end of "Before Dishonor", so really it's not my fault.

Feedback: Yes please!

CHAPTER 1

Indiana

"KATHRYN!"

Gretchen Janeway jolted awake in her bed with the scream of her beloved daughter's name still on her lips. Shaky, finely boned hands pushed wavy silver tendrils of hair away from her sweat dampened skin as she regained some semblance of composure. Her cobalt colored eyes swept over the same bedroom she had slept in for the last thirty-five years and aside from the fall breeze that pushed her curtains with gentleness she could discern nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that should have woken her from her deep sleep. And then, like a tidal wave, her dream, her nightmare, came back to her and she bit back a sob.

"Kathryn." Gretchen held one hand close to her neck, as her throat began to close with unshed tears. The nightmare had seemed so real. Her adored daughter, who had just been returned to her two years ago by the grace of whatever power in the universe existed, was horribly displayed in her nightmare. Instead of the stalwart Admiral her daughter had become, Kathryn was a bloodied carcass in a pool of tar.

Gretchen felt her stomach becoming sick and the bed that had been so inviting earlier in the evening now became a discomforting place. She rose gracefully from it and pulled on a light blue robe. Even when it was secured tightly around her petite form, Gretchen shivered from a cold that could not be taken away by any tangible means. The image of the dream frightened her in a way that nothing in her life ever had. And for that, she had the very strong urge to contact her daughter, to ensure that she was all right.

She could immediately picture how Kathryn would smile indulgently and tell her that she had everything under control, she always did and not to worry. But even if Gretchen wanted to, and oh did she want to, she couldn't contact Kathryn, because her daughter was off on one of her missions. She wasn't told what exactly it entailed but she knew Kathryn probably wouldn't be readily reached by anyone outside of Starfleet command. The life of an Admiral. She had forgotten how secretive it all was. The last time there had been an Admiral Janeway, it had been twenty-two years ago and it had been her husband, Edward. If she could tell Edward of her worry now he would give her the same indulgent smile that his daughter, who was so much like him, would give.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, our little Goldenbird is made of sterner stuff than most." Edward's pride for his daughter would have shone brightly then and she would have been comforted by it. But now, alone at three thirty in the morning she felt no comfort, cold or otherwise.

However, there was one other Janeway she could call.

"Mom, do you have any idea what time it is?" Her other daughter Phoebe, born four years later than her Kathryn, glared back from the view screen as unruly strands of dark red hair were being tied into a ponytail.

"I know exactly what time it is. That's not why I'm calling you." The husky tones were ones few people attempted to contradict. The added steeliness to Gretchen's eyes didn't hurt. "Have you spoken to your sister recently?"

"Katie? I haven't talked to her for weeks. She's been busy with missions I guess. Why?" Phoebe could tell that her mother was worried, deathly so. "Mom, the Borg threat is gone. Earth is once again safe from the evil clutches of the Collective."

Only five hours ago, it had been officially announced by Federation channels that the possible Borg threat to Earth, a threat that had wiped out Pluto and a fleet of thirty-seven starships not to mention the lives of those Starfleet officers, had been neutralized. And now the good people of Earth were going about their business as usual and the threat that the Borg had posed, aside from those who had actually lost family members in the Slaughter of Sector 108, would be talked about on news feeds and gossiped about like the latest fashion trend. Phoebe had to shake her head as she thought of how desensitized people were these days to the tragedies that surrounded them.

"When you spoke with her last did she mention where she was going or what her mission was?" Gretchen wanted to reach in and shake her daughter who sounded so flippant about the Borg. "She wasn't going to Sector 108 was she?"

"I don't know. She doesn't really tell me much about her assignments. But I don't think they would have sent her out to the frontlines. She was probably in that bunker at Starfleet." Phoebe shrugged. Her sister's new position as Admiral would seem somewhat exciting to someone who didn't know how much bureaucracy was involved. And how much secrecy. Kathryn had never talked all that much about her Captaincy, but now she spoke even less about her Admiralty. "Are you all right, Mom, you seem kind of…" Finely boned, elegant hands waved in the air as if to catch the right adjective.

"I—I had a nightmare. About your sister." Gretchen watched as Phoebe's blue eyes widened at this. There was no indulgent smile playing on this daughter's lips.

"What sort of nightmare?" Phoebe didn't necessarily believe in being able to predict the future. But she did believe in familiar connections. And she had heard of instances where someone will have a feeling that something bad had happened to a loved one and then they would call that person and find out they were in a shuttle accident or something.

"Your sister was—"

Something had startled her mother, distracted her from her words and perhaps even her thoughts as Gretchen's mouth opened wordlessly, her dark eyes were wide as they looked no longer at Phoebe but out the window she knew was to the side of the view screen. Her mother stood abruptly, knocking over the chair without care. Her voice was low, anxious.

"Oh, damn."

"No, Alynna, she deserves to know everything."

Admiral Alynna Nechayev, a small statured woman with narrow Slavic features and light blonde hair who all but made up for her diminutive size with an almost overwhelming command presence and no nonsense attitude looked unconvinced at the burly man who reminded her more of a silly grandpa than a great Admiral of Starfleet. She graced him with a patient look.

"Owen, how the hell do you suppose we tell a woman that her daughter was not only killed in the line of duty, but that she was assimilated, made the Borg Queen, and was more or less responsible for the deaths of hundreds? That her daughter posed the greatest threat Earth has ever faced." Nechayev's voice maintained its evenness despite the emotions warring within. She had liked Kate Janeway; she had liked her a lot. And seeing her, seeing what the Borg had done to her had shaken Alynna more than anything else in her life ever had aside from perhaps the death of her husband at the Battle of Wolf 359. Picard should have killed the whole damned Collective when he had the chance, was the resounding sentiment in her mind.

"That… thing wasn't Kathryn. It was a monster who possessed her body, not her." Owen Paris had known Kathryn Janeway since she was an eager and brilliant student at the Academy. She had surprised and impressed him then with her intelligence, her strength, her palpable energy and she soon became like another daughter to him. And now she was gone and it pained him intolerably to think of what he had lost, what the world, the Quadrant, the entire galaxy had lost. How terribly ironic that her death would come here in the Alpha Quadrant while she had persevered in the Delta, a part of him wished Voyager had never reached home. Perhaps she would still be alive now if they hadn't.

"I know it wasn't Kate, but at the same time it was. As the Borg Queen she was something we could never have anticipated, never have prepared ourselves for." Nechayev was no fool. Every defense line would have fallen and then Earth too would have been overrun by the Borg. Assisted, albeit unwillingly, by a woman who had developed many of their contemporary planetary defense protocols. "You and I both know that if it wasn't for the time given us by that damned Doomsday Machine, Earth would have gone the way of Pluto."

Coldness spread through Nechayev as she remembered the last image of Kathryn Janeway she would ever have. Nothing had been recognizable except for the facial features that were so cold and heartless, with a mixture of pure and unadulterated superiority that they might as well have belonged to someone else. There was nothing left of the woman Nechayev had known as a young and ever eager Captain and then as the seasoned, mature, competent woman who had come back from the Delta Quadrant against all odds, tiny ship and wayward crew in tow, and most recently the youngest, and perhaps brightest, Admiral to come out of Starfleet in a very, very long time.

Surrender. You have no choice. Certainly you must know that. That husky voice Janeway could employ to get a person to do just about anything, that Alynna had always thought if only to herself quite captivating, had contained a strange metallic quality to it and a sadistic one when the Borg Queen had spoken to the Admirals in the Bunker. A place the Borg Queen should not have been aware of, but of course she had all the knowledge Kathryn Janeway possessed. She had known many secrets.

After the priority one message had been transmitted to The Bunker underneath Starfleet Headquarters from Picard, Alynna Nechayev had notified Owen Paris immediately. Despite all she knew Paris had gone through in his illustrious career: torture at the hands of Cardassians, lost battles in the war, the incarceration and then supposed loss of his son… Nechayev had been easily able to see that nothing in his life had adequately prepared him for what she had been forced by circumstances to tell him.

"Kathryn Janeway is dead." Alynna had not been about to mince words with the man. He deserved her calm, her control, even if internally she felt none of it.

Admiral Paris had stood then; light blue eyes had narrowed in disbelief, shock, anger. "What do you mean?"

"Owen, I've sent the classified report to you. But you deserve to hear it from me. Kathryn Janeway boarded the supposedly dead Borg Cube to further study its components when she was assimilated, transformed… into the Borg Queen." Nechayev had known that image of Kathryn as the Borg Queen would stay with her for a long, long time despite her wish to the contrary. She had almost shivered, but had managed to contain herself.

"My god!" He had sat then, probably without any conscious decision on his part, with his mouth agape.

God had nothing to do with it, she had thought before she had continued on. "Picard and the Enterprise along with Seven of Nine and Ambassador Spock managed to hold off the Borg attack from decimating Earth. But just barely. They obtained the Doomsday Machine."

"The Planet Killer." It had been an exhalation of breath that neither required nor wanted a response. It had merely been an acknowledgement of how bad their situation had truly been. Admiral Owen Paris had cursed himself then. He had been on Qo'nos when the attack had begun and was in lockdown with the rest of the diplomats and Starfleet brass. Not exactly honorable, but the Klingons were nowhere near prepared enough to take on the Borg. Nor was Earth apparently.

"It bought us some time, but ultimately it wasn't successful, the cube… assimilated it and gained untold power from its consumption. Earth, Owen, was about to fall. We had no more lines of defense. Except one. The invasive program Geordi La Forge created. Seven of Nine was used as the carrier, but Kate knew about the virus and protected the cube from it." Again, Nechayev cursed Picard for not having had taken a stronger stance against the Borg when he had been given the perfect chance to do so. Genocide be damned.

"Alynna." His tone of voice had reminded Nechayev that this man had been a force to be reckoned with in his day. His eyes narrowed more at her reference to Janeway as having anything to do with Queen, but the facts were what they were and so he let her name be the only warning that she had best tread lightly.

"She prevailed though." Utmost pride had permeated Nechayev's tone then.

"Seven found a way to deploy it?" He hadn't really needed to ask, since Earth was still standing and the Borg cube was not.

"No, Kathryn Janeway, in her last moments saved us all. She managed to break through the Borg Queen's control and shut down the firewall protecting the Cube and the virus was released." The pride and gratitude that had filled Alynna was pushed aside as she looked compassionately at the man who had lost a woman not unlike a daughter to him. "The cube imploded, there was nothing left. I'm sorry, Owen."

His only response had been an order to go to Indiana. So, now here they were, almost oh four hundred, descending slowly above a cornfield.

"Landing struts deployed."

Nechayev ignored the Lieutenant's voice as she nodded with some encouragement to the man who had seemed to age ten years over the course of a few hours. He moved more gingerly and the presence that the man held so strongly faded with each step. In her decades with Starfleet she had had the dubious responsibility of telling many family members of their loved ones' death. She, herself, had gotten the same news from some unremembered Starfleet officer. But nothing could have adequately prepared her for the woman who greeted them as the shuttle door opened.

"Blin." The Russian explanative had been soft and low, but it still made Paris pause for a moment. He put a reassuring hand on the petite woman's shoulder. A comfort he rarely employed and she rarely accepted. But this was a rare moment.

"Gretchen." Paris voice had been soft and tentative, but it still seemed to fill the night sky.

The woman who stood on the porch of a well-worn farmhouse looked to be in her late sixties perhaps early seventies, she was quite lovely with silver hair that fell in thick waves about her robe clad shoulders and dark piercing blue eyes. There could be no doubt in Nechayev's mind or anyone else's for that matter that this woman was the mother of one of the greatest Starfleet officers of all time. Kathryn Janeway had shared her mother's compact form, high cheekbones, and elegantly boned hands. What Nechayev hadn't been prepared for the most was the similar indomitable strength this woman radiated, a bearing that wasn't necessarily commanding but had a steely authority to it nonetheless. Nechayev had always assumed Kate had been her father's daughter, but now she had to reassess that assumption as the woman stood with her hands on her slim hips and a defiant lift to her chin as if she was daring them to give her bad news. Nechayev regretted having to take the woman up on her dare.

"Owen, what the hell are you thinking? You know a shuttle of that magnitude isn't permitted on the Agricultural Farm." The tones were huskier with sleep, but it was clearly another aspect of the eldest Janeway that had been transmitted to her daughter.

"I'm sorry, Gretchen." Owen led the path up the stairs before he gestured toward the petite, stern looking Admiral who stood somewhat uncertainly next to him. "Alynna Nechayev, Gretchen Janeway."

"Mrs. Janeway." There was a brief handshake that didn't take Gretchen's eyes off of the man next to Nechayev.

Gretchen recalled with a cold feeling that spread swiftly that the last time Owen Paris had stepped foot on her property it was to tell her Voyager had vanished and if no news was forthcoming would be declared officially lost. Her nightmare flooded her thoughts and she almost gave into her knees buckling beneath her, but she held on to the railing and maintained equilibrium as she gave both Admirals an apprehensive and almost accusing look.

"What are you two doing here?" The voice went down incredibly low and seemed to drop the temperature on the porch drastically.

"It's… about Kathryn. At twenty-two thirty-one hundred hours, the thought to be dead Borg Cube imploded. Kathryn was on it, she was studying it. We—we've lost her. I'm so sorry, Gretchen." The arms that were meant to wrap around the small shivering woman for comfort were quickly batted away as a roar of unimaginable pain exploded from Gretchen's throat and shattered the night silence.

Nechayev knew she had never heard such a thing in her life and she hoped she never would again. Gretchen Janeway managed to maintain her footing even as she swayed precariously, hands clutched at her stomach and throat as if she was experiencing physical wounds, which Alynna thought sadly, she probably was. Her own stomach clutched as she watched the distress mix with anger so immense it made Alynna take a step back.

"Tell me this, how the hell my daughter was killed on a Borg cube that all the damned brilliant minds in Starfleet said was dead." Gretchen's petite frame shook with the intensity of her pain, her disgust, and her all consuming grief. She knew her heart had been irreparably broken this day. And she wouldn't rest until whoever was culpable would feel her grief that no mother should ever have to feel. Even if these two Admirals weren't to blame, they were here and that was good enough.

News of the Borg attack had been kept to a minimum. The public at large knew very little aside from orders to go to the nearest fortified shelters and then later that the Borg cube that had been looming menacingly above Earth had been destroyed. Cheers of triumph had filled the night sky. Gretchen now felt an incredible sickness that those who had cheered had also cheered the destruction of her adored daughter.

"By all accounts, it was, Mrs. Janeway." Nechayev flinched at the look those eyes had as they quickly shifted to her. "We don't know exactly how it reactivated, whether or not it was Kate's presence or if it had merely been playing possum. But you should know your daughter's sacrifice saved the world."

It wasn't the words Gretchen Janeway wanted to hear. She felt no comfort or even pride from that fact. She had lost something so precious to her, something she had just gotten back after seven long years of withdrawal, and now, her daughter, her beloved Kathryn was gone, forever.

The punch hadn't been expected, nor was the cold wood of the porch floor that came up and greeted Admiral Alynna Nechayev's back as she landed with a whoosh of surprised and pained air. It took her a moment to realize that Gretchen Janeway had landed quite an impressive left hook to her now stinging cheek. The redness that flowed indicated that the ring on Gretchen Janeway's left hand had torn the tissue; Nechayev pressed her hand to the wound as she raised herself into a seated position and watched as Owen's previously aborted attempt to lend comfort with strong arms was finally accepted by the woman who had seemed to collapse under her own weight.

Gretchen Janeway's back shook forcefully from the intensity of her sobs as she clutched desperately to Owen Paris while still trying to get away from him with disempowered fists to his chest. Kathryn's name, denials of the facts, and pleads to the gods were all intermingled with the anguished cries.

"Mom!"

For a split second, Nechayev thought Kate Janeway had once again done the impossible and come back from the dead as she heard the husky voice. But it was too light to be the Admiral's. And when she took in the woman that was now running toward them at a dead sprint from a parked hovercraft none of them had heard make its approach she felt an unbelievable level of disappointment. This woman was not Kathryn Janeway. Death was a place even the iconic Captain of Voyager couldn't come back from. Kathryn Janeway was gone forever and for the first time since the whole dreadful ordeal had begun, Alynna felt tears well in her brown eyes at the inconceivable loss.

All thoughts of pleasantries and decorum left swiftly as Phoebe Janeway bounded up the stairs and pushed Owen Paris out of the way and almost to the floor next to Nechayev as she grasped her mother's shaking shoulders.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Phoebe felt icy stabs of fear move about her torso. She had never seen her mother like this. Even when daddy had died her mother had been strong and sure, Kathryn had already fallen apart and it was Gretchen who had maintained composure for the sake of her eldest daughter. Phoebe's blood turned to ice as she whispered her sister's name. "Katie."

"Phoebe, oh god, she's gone! She's gone!" One hand that was speckled red clasped at her mouth agape with horror as the other hand clutched desperately at Phoebe's tunic. The silken material was crunched and ruined under the strong fingers and if it had been any other time Phoebe would have teased her mother. But now was not the time for teases.

If a heart could stop beating, just stand motionless in one's chest, if it were possible for it to be too scared to pump blood anymore it would have in Phoebe at her mother's words. A buzzing of blood pumping into her ears and the buckling of her knees that had both supported her mother's weight and her own was unacknowledged even as they dropped to the floor of their porch, arms grasped around one another.

Phoebe was the first to emerge from the mingled cries of mother and daughter. She helped her still sobbing mother to her unsteady feet with hands trembling but strong. One hand grasped her mother's even as she turned to point a finger from the other one at the two Admirals who had the audacity to still be standing there with, to her, false expressions of sympathy. Something Starfleet taught their higher brass and she hated them for it. And she hated them for what they took away from her and her mother.

"Leave." It was an order with a seemingly deadly consequence if disobeyed.

Nechayev could tell Paris was wounded, that he wanted to say something, anything. He too was grieving and Alynna knew that he wanted someone besides her to share it with. But the look in the blue eyes of Phoebe Janeway was so steely in its determination that the words died on his lips. He nodded his head resolutely before he followed Nechayev's descent down the porch steps.

"Wait!" Tear streaked, but decisive, Gretchen removed herself from her daughter's grasp. "Come inside."

Phoebe's vehement protests stilled as her mother gave her a look of such authority that all she could do was give one last condemning glare to the Admirals before leading the way inside.

It wasn't until they entered the kitchen through the foyer and dining room that the still air was broken with words. Gretchen had wiped the tears away and now she was looking pointedly at the all too silent Admirals who looked out of place in her old fashioned home. She disregarded thoughts to their comfort and her own as her voice cut through them with its tone of command. "You two will tell me everything."

The activation of the coffee maker filled the pregnant pause. And as soon as the aroma of coffee filled the air another voice interrupted the Admirals' replies.

"No, turn it off, please, turn the goddamned thing OFF!" Before her mother could do anything but look regretful, Phoebe had crossed the small room and tore the machine from the countertop and threw it against the dark tiles of the kitchen floor. The glass and metal of the machine either shattered or bent from the force of the blow and the dark liquid spread quickly across the floor. Phoebe shook her head as if she had just emerged from a dream and realized what she had done.

"Leave it, Phoebe, it's not important. Take the Admirals into the living room. I'll be in shortly." Gretchen's voice had calmed and was filled with compassion for her youngest daughter whose pain she could feel intermingling with her own. But just as she had when Edward had died, she would be strong and sure for her daughter's sake.

Phoebe nodded and moved swiftly and gracefully out of the kitchen, not waiting to see if the Admirals followed her or not. They did so obediently and found themselves in a room that seemed to be permeated by memories, by ghosts. An old fashioned wood burning fireplace took prominence against one wall as well-worn couches and thickly cushioned chairs made a semicircle around it and a low glass coffee table. Paris and Nechayev attempted to avert their eyes from the mantel of the fireplace that contained many pictures of the Janeway family.

Phoebe didn't speak or look at either of them as she seated herself onto the dark brown leather couch that sat underneath bay windows. The night darkness was just beginning to lighten, as unbelievable as it would seem the world moved on.

Alynna Nechayev looked up suddenly as a slim, gray piece of technology entered her line of vision. It took her a moment to realize what it was. "Thanks."

A nod was the only response Nechayev received before she brought the old fashioned dermal regenerator to her own cheek. The heat it caused on her healing wound was almost more uncomfortable than the dull ache and she wondered if the other woman had intended that. Nechayev did know that she was grateful an apology hadn't been issued since they both would have known it wasn't sincere.

Gretchen lowered her suddenly exhausted body into the unfelt comfort of the couch. Two pairs of eyes trained pointedly at their guests. "Let's start at the beginning shall we? Why was Kathryn on that cube?"

"She made the orders herself. She deemed the risk minimal and the knowledge contained on the cube too valuable not to obtain. But instead of utilizing a starship that was available to her, she requisitioned a small science vessel, the Einstein, and a few of the resident Borg experts Starfleet had to offer and left for the cube two days ago." Now that the air was calm, Paris voice took on a tone that felt automatic, as if he was merely giving a lecture as some prestigious university. "The following morning, Annika Hansen met with Admiral Edward Jellico and told him that she feared for Kathryn's safety. Jellico contacted the Einstein, which unbeknownst to him had already been assimilated. He was reassured by who he thought was Admiral Janeway."

"Who was it?" Phoebe's brow creased in confusion. Perhaps someone had merely posed as Kathryn and she was actually hidden away somewhere, still alive.

"She—" Paris looked from one woman to the other not knowing exactly how to say what he insisted to Alynna that they tell them. "The Borg Queen."

Realization dawned on Gretchen's stricken expression a moment or two before her youngest daughter's.

"No." The word from both was the same desperate denial.

Paris knew the communication records that had been transmitted from the Borg cube into the Bunker resided in the report Nechayev had given him, but he hadn't had the courage to look at it yet. He wasn't quite sure he'd be able to handle it. He was quite certain the women before him couldn't see it at this time or perhaps ever. It's not how Kathryn Janeway should ever be thought of.

"We don't know how they did it, but the Borg transformed her, made her their new queen." Nechayev looked as sympathetically as she knew how at the two Janeway women, the older one's shoulder grasped by a slim hand of the younger, and tried to soften her voice as she related the facts. This wasn't a debriefing after all, but the telling of events of how their loved one had died. "What we do know is that after the decimation of Pluto and the destruction of the armada sent by Starfleet command, the Borg cube intended to come here and their Queen was prepared to spare the Earth if we gave them Seven of Nine and Captain Picard. Against orders the Enterprise-E along with Seven and Ambassador Spock retrieved the Doomsday Machine from Epsilon Sigma V. It seemed to be working until the cube somehow transported behind it and absorbed it into itself. Seven, who had interfaced with the Doomsday Machine, connected to the hive mind and somehow found—aided in Kathryn's personality to overcome that of the Queen's, which allowed for the computer virus Seven was given to end the Borg threat."

"And killing my daughter in the process." It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. Starfleet had taken a lot from her over the years: her husband, her daughter's first real love, Kathryn for seven long painful years, and now Kathryn again, this time… forever. A part of her knew the Admiral's words were true, Kathryn would do nothing less than give up her life if it meant saving another's and her sacrifice had indeed saved billions. But at this time she could not think of the needs of the many, but only of those few who loved Kathryn immensely, those who would grieve the incredible loss, again… forever.

Gretchen Janeway stood then, her dignity palpable in her stance as she raised her chain and looked squarely into the eyes of the Admirals. "I need to make some calls. Arrangements need to be made."

The silver haired matriarch walked steadily out of the room without a look back, merely expecting the two Admirals to leave as she had subtly hinted at. Nechayev had the idle thought that this woman would have made one hell of Starship Captain. She rose with Paris and headed for the kitchen before a throaty alto voice stopped them.

Phoebe Janeway didn't have the bearing Kathryn had possessed with ease and Gretchen could project when she wished to but there was enough steeliness in her blue eyes that rooted the Admirals to the spot. "You two should go now. And… don't come back here."

Nods were the two Admirals only response as the red head followed her mother's path without another single word or look. The sunlight streamed through the open curtains and the sound of birds had finally been noticed as the world continued turning as if it hadn't been on the verge of destruction only hours ago. And undoubtedly would have fallen if not for the sacrifice of one lone woman.

CHAPTER 2

The Enterprise-E

Thank you, Seven.

"Kathryn!" Seven of Nine jerked awake at the sound of her beloved former Captain's voice inside her head. It took her a moment to realize where she was: Sickbay, the Enterprise-E. In that moment of realization her mind was flooded with the knowledge that Kathryn Janeway was gone, dead, they had lost her to the Collective. Seven had wanted to join her and that was what had led her to be in Sickbay.

"Seven?" The voice was feminine and kind, light and compassionate, and not the voice Seven longed to hear once again. Her delusion that she had hallucinated the events that had transpired was expelled at the sight of the red headed woman who loomed over her.

"Doctor Crusher, what has happened?" Seven tried to sit upright but the restraint that rose from the biobed kept her unable to do so. A look of hesitation preceded the disengagement of the arched piece of technology. A warm, gentle hand to her shoulder indicated that the doctor still wanted Seven to remain where she was.

"You attacked a Mr.—Vargo on his cargo ship and proceeded to try to rip off your hand implant. It was a good thing he had a phaser handy or otherwise you might have killed him or yourself. We transported you to Sickbay about thirty minutes ago." Beverly Crusher smiled softly as if to add a bit of humor to a rather tragic set of circumstances.

Seven didn't care about Grim Vargo or her hand, which was certainly healed thanks to Doctor Crusher; she had only one thought in her mind. "Kathryn?"

"I know, Seven, I'm truly sorry. She was a remarkable woman." Beverly Crusher had certainly not been best friends with Admiral Janeway, but she had met her a handful of times and found the woman to be nothing short of amazing. She had an intelligence that shone in her eyes tempered with a wry sense of humor, confident in bearing but warm and engaging as well, and she had a charm and a disarmingly bright smile that captured anyone within range. Beverly knew personally how affected Jean-Luc was at the death of this woman. She could not imagine what this young woman was going through, though the self-inflicted wound would indicate it was somewhere close to hell.

Thank you, Seven.

"I have failed her." Seven looked at her mesh metal encased hand as if for the first time and felt revulsion for her Borg side that she had never felt before. It was this aspect that had taken away Kathryn and she hated it now. A gentle, but this time firm hand covered the mesh as if protecting it from assault.

Not for the first time since this whole ordeal had begun, Beverly sincerely wished Deanna was onboard. T'Lana was relieved of duty for the time being and even if the Vulcan counselor hadn't been, Beverly would be damned before she'd let that traitorous bitch anywhere near her Sickbay and more specifically this grieving woman.

"I'm so sorry, Seven." Cursed by the inadequacy of language, Beverly Crusher did all she knew how to do to lend comfort. Slim arms encircled the young woman and held her close and warm to her chest.

Strong hands disengaged from the embrace and clear, icy eyes met Beverly's green ones and she didn't think she had ever seen anything more heartbreaking in her life.

"I must speak with Captain Picard." Seven allowed her grasp to soften on the woman before her as she pulled herself into a seated position. The hands fell away from the doctor's arms as the red headed woman nodded her agreement as she tapped her comm. badge.

"Crusher to Picard, please report to Sickbay." The temptation to embrace Seven didn't decrease but Beverly knew the other woman didn't particularly welcome it. She couldn't help but put a comforting hand on a shoulder, which flinched underneath her touch. She decided perhaps touching was becoming more about her own comfort than Seven's and Beverly dropped her hand altogether.

"On my way, Picard out."

Seven brought her long slim legs to hang off the end of the bed before she dropped onto her feet. The sheet dropped from her naked form as she stood with her hands behind her back as she awaited Captain Picard's arrival with as much calm and composure she could manage.

"I—I'll go get you some clothes." Not waiting for a response, Beverly instructed the replicator to fashion a Starfleet uniform and quickly handed the mass of fabric to the tall pale woman who was all creamy flesh and silver metal.

Seven, humans are merely modest, I don't really know why or when it began, but it's… customary to be clothed. So, please, just humor me. All right?

Tears started to prick at Seven's right eye and a muscle twitched in her jaw as Kathryn's voice filled her with a sorrow she had never thought possible. She was certain if the Doctor had not successfully removed the failsafe device in her cortical array she would not exist now.

As efficient as ever, the uniform was in perfect place long before the swish of the Sickbay doors signaled Captain Jean-Luc Picard's entrance. He moved with a sturdy grace natural to the dignified man as he approached Seven of Nine and his Chief Medical Officer.

"Captain Picard, I have my report." The even voice would give away nothing of the inner turmoil the woman was experiencing.

The words of comfort stopped on Picard's lips as he watched a small muscle jerk sporadically in Seven's jaw and moisture captured in her one human eye and he understood her actions perfectly.

"Understood, Seven." Picard looked over to his CMO and without a word needing to be said between the two she nodded her head in assent. "If you'd follow me."

A minute nod preceded her obedience as she followed him into Doctor Crusher's office. The door sealed with a hiss behind them. Seven stood in her characteristic fashion, posture straight and tense, arms behind her back clasped together by her hands. Her icy blue gaze followed his descent into the plush chair.

"Please have a seat." Picard gestured to one of two chairs in front of the doctor's desk as he activated a PADD to take down Seven's report.

"I prefer to stand." Seven's eyes didn't flicker at all to the comfort of the chairs as she continued her rigid stance.

It wasn't so much the woman's height or pose that gave her a somewhat intimidating manner, it was her eyes. The way they looked down on him with such laser precision that an attempt to dissemble wasn't even an option. Not one to be intimidated for very long, Picard cleared his throat before he began.

"I thought you'd like to know Mr. Vargo isn't pressing assault charges against you and we've sent him on his way." Picard thought it had been astounding and fortunate beyond measure that the independent cargo Captain was in the vicinity and had rescued Seven from the vacuum of space. Though the blow to the head wasn't exactly the thanks he had deserved, Picard was relieved and bemused that the man had taken the attack with such nonchalance.

"It wouldn't be the first time a beautiful woman has knocked me upside the head." Grim Vargo had shrugged then.

Baffling, Picard thought.

Even more baffling had been the cargo Captain's next move. "Here's all the data strips on what my ship recorded. Thought you should have 'em."

Picard had activated the video feeds after the cargo vessel had jumped to warp and had been even more astounded that the tiny vessel had captured the visual of the Borg attack against the Starfleet Armada and the destruction of Pluto not to mention the Doomsday Machine's ultimately futile attempts against the cube. Such displays would have brought in quite a profit and Picard had to wonder who this man was who had handed over such merchandise.

A good man, Picard had supposed.

Seven didn't even blink at that piece of information; highly irrelevant is how she probably thought of it. Picard watched her carefully as he began on a different track.

"Could you tell me what happened when you were taken into the cube?" Picard saw a flinch, but it barely moved the implacable expression seemingly frozen on her narrow features.

"My connection had been severed to the Doomsday Machine when it was absorbed by the cube. I was taken into the hive mind, the Queen was there and successfully blocked my attempt to deploy the virus. I tried to reach out to Kathryn Janeway, to assist her in overtaking the Borg Queen's possession of her." Seven's eyes flickered away, as if in shame. Her voice had grown quiet, pained at her failure. The muscles in her throat convulsed to hold back the heat of tears that welled there.

"But you were successful, you deployed the virus." Picard had the facts in his hand. The Borg cube had imploded, the threat was gone.

"I. Failed." Seven's voice had lost its evenness its impassivity. Now it sounded broken, angry, and ashamed. "I was losing myself; I could not set myself free much less Kathryn from the hold of the Collective. In the end, she saved herself and us. Seeing my failure spurred her to new strength. Her personality, her free will, her individuality emerged just enough to puncture a hole into the firewall that had held the Borg protected. She then… pushed me out of the Collective mind, setting me free before the virus could take full effect."

"Seven, I realize that this has been… difficult, but on behalf of the Federation I must commend you on your bravery. Your sacrifice. If not for you Earth would have certainly been destroyed." Picard ended the recording as he stood to, he didn't know, perhaps shake hands with the woman.

"My sacrifice." Seven's eyes narrowed into an accusing glare. "I sacrificed nothing. Kathryn Janeway saw to that when she forcefully ejected my mind from the Collective's. I am alive. She is not. I did not sacrifice, Captain."

"I know it's painful to lose someone close to you." Picard's voice softened even as the iciness in the small office increased with each passing moment those blue eyes bored into his own. "I won't claim to have known Admiral Janeway well. But I think I knew her enough to say that she would have been proud of you, Seven. Grateful. She might not have been able to prevail over the Borg without your presence."

"That is what would be referred to as 'cold comfort'." Seven raised her chin defiantly as her posture impossibly became more stiff and imposing. "I am finished with my report, Captain."

"Yes, of course." Before his dismissal, Captain Picard had one more issue that whether he wanted to or not had to be addressed. "After the Admiral's family is notified it will become a matter of public record, I thought you would like to notify the Voyager crew…"

Something flashed in those blue eyes, it wasn't anger or shame, it looked like urgency and concern. "Do not allow Kathryn Janeway's death to become 'public record' until the Voyager crew has been notified. We were her family, for seven years."

"I'll make it so." Picard knew a comforting smile wouldn't be welcomed so instead with a curt nod he dismissed her from the office.

After her brisk departure Picard immediately sent the report to Nechayev who had spent the last half an hour demanding answers as to what had just transpired. His report was dry, to the point, unemotional despite the fact that he knew Nechayev and Janeway had been friendly colleagues. Admiral Nechayev would not want anything less.

"Jean-Luc?" Beverly Crusher came around her own desk and perched on the end of it near her Captain, friend, and most recently, lover. She rested a gentle hand on his and was grateful to have their fingers quickly entwined.

Picard shook his head as though he was attempting to figure out a rather frustrating puzzle. His brow creased as he held Beverly's hand in both of his. "Even when all the possibilities seemed hopeless, I truly believed we could rescue her. That we would get her back. Even when Pluto was destroyed, the Starfleet Armada, I thought 'Admiral Janeway is still in there somewhere, she's retrievable' but Seven was right. Kathryn Janeway was lost to us… long before the Enterprise was even aware the Borg cube was a threat."

"Yes… she was." Beverly had seen what the Queen was up close. She had, after all, almost been strangled to death by the monstrosity that was as grotesque as it was feminine. She knew the Borg Queen required only a third of the organic material of the incoming incarnate, Kathryn Janeway's body would have been deemed… irrelevant. Doctor Crusher had not consciously thought of that fact until this very moment and years of medical training and seeing the worst of injuries inflicted upon people kept her revulsion in the pit of her stomach.

"Despite our failure to save her, Beverly, she saved us." Picard looked upon the woman he had loved for more years than he cared to admit to and felt strengthened by her presence. Also more than he would admit to. "The Borg Queen put up a firewall, it prevented the Endgame virus from taking its course. Seven found Kathryn Janeway's mind within the Collective, assisted her in overriding the Queen's control, and she won. The Admiral not only destroyed the Borg threat but she saved Seven's life as well. She was… a remarkable woman."

Despite any ill-feelings that might have grown between the Admiral and Jean Luc after he had disobeyed direct orders, Beverly knew Jean-Luc had thought quite highly of Janeway. The astounding Captain who had brought Voyager home when the small ship had been stranded seventy thousand light years away from Earth. And then she became an Admiral, who had been thought of as a miracle worker among the fleet a genius in both the sciences and diplomacy, a force to be reckoned with and who brought an infusion of fresh ideas and innovative thinking the brass had been missing desperately.

Beverly wondered then about Kathryn Janeway. Who was the woman? Who had she left behind? Family? A lover? Definitely the Admiral's former crew of the Voyager would have to be notified soon. Then she thought of the young woman who had all but rushed out of Sickbay only moments ago. She wondered about Seven and the Admiral. And again she wished Deanna was onboard, she'd know what to do.

Thank you, Seven.

Those three simple words were torment and ecstasy to the woman who walked briskly, rigidly down the hallway of a spaceship she desperately desired to depart from. After she had disregarded several worried looks from passing crewmembers, Seven finally and gratefully made it to her guest quarters.

Before the doors slid shut behind her, Seven had fallen against the wall. Her weight was too much for her to hold up any longer as her knees buckled and she slumped to the floor. Her slim arms wrapped around her pulled up knees as her head bowed. Her breathing came in short, uneven gasps and salty water streamed freely from her right eye to fall on her clasped hands.

Sometimes, in order to feel alive, one has to take chances with one's safety.

Seven had thought Janeway wrong then and she still believed her to be now. If not for the desire to "feel alive" Kathryn would still exist.

And that fact, that inescapable reality of the ceasing of Kathryn Janeway's existence was what brought Seven of Nine, former Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One, to weep for the very first time in her six years of existence after Captain Janeway had forced individuality upon her, had given her life, had restored her humanity by displaying her own.

Seven wept not only for herself, but for the others that had mattered so much to Kathryn Janeway and who in turn perhaps mattered more to them. Seven knew she needed to contact Chakotay, Harry, Tom, B'Elanna, the Doctor, Tuvok, Neelix and a hundred and thirty-six other individuals who had been Voyager's crew for seven years. But she could not bring herself up from her supine position, not yet.

Thank you, Seven.

Those words, those three simple words. They crippled Seven with their power. Their meaning. Both hidden and overt. She would not. Could not tell anyone everything those words had meant and continued to mean to Seven of Nine, former Borg drone, now a grieving woman who had to tell her family that they had lost their cornerstone, their strength, their center. The crew of Voyager, after they had transverse an unknown Quadrant and had prevailed over impossible odds and deadly enemies, had arrived home only to have lost their Captain.

Seven didn't know how long she had been seated against the wall of her guest quarters onboard the Enterprise-E, nor did she particularly care. She had disregarded her internal chronometer as irrelevant hours ago. She did wonder what had aroused her from her contemplation of the woman who had been Seven's unwavering guide to humanity.

She realized with little reaction that it had been the chime of the door and continued to be a distraction from her thoughts. Annoyed by the interruption but cognizant that this individual was not going to leave her in peace, Seven stood gracefully from the floor. She thought she cared little about aesthetics, but she found herself wiping away tears that had dried to her cheeks and smoothing down the wrinkles that had formed in the fabric of her uniform.

"Computer, who is at the door?" Seven listened for the soft feminine voice to reply as she pulled her hair back into its austere bun which completed her regaining of composure.

"Captain Picard."

"Enter." Seven stood at attention, though she crossed her arms over her chest as she regarded the man who had commanded a ship called Enterprise for over twenty years. She had thought him a capable Captain and a man of presence, but he lacked the fiery passion and the barely contained energy her former Captain had possessed and found him somewhat wanting. Seven could imagine the self-effacing half-grin her former Captain would possess at such a comparison and she could feel the pain in her chest increase.

"Seven, I wanted to inform you that Admirals Nechayev and Paris contacted me a few moments ago. They've just departed from Indiana and are on route here." Picard wondered what the woman had done for the last six hours as the Enterprise maintained its orbit over Earth. The lights to the quarters hadn't been activated and the state of the rumpled uniform, something so uncharacteristic of the young woman, would clearly indicate that whatever it had been it was… no business of his. He cleared his throat thinking a response would be forthcoming.

Gretchen Janeway. Phoebe. Seven could picture both women perfectly in her mind. She had first met the pair at the more family oriented and casual homecoming party that had preceded the more formal and uncomfortable Starfleet sponsored one. It would not have been necessary of the Captain then to have introduced them to Seven, the similarities between the three women would have been indication enough that they shared a familial biological makeup. She remembered how their voices had also indicated that they shared more traits than just similarities in appearance.

"Mom, Phoebe, I'd like you to meet Seven, she was my Astrometrics officer and is a close friend." The Captain had smiled her unique and bright smile then as she gestured to Seven, who had attempted with all her power to remain composed in front of her Captain's mother and sister.

If the two women had been uncomfortable with Seven's Borg history they hadn't shown it in the least as both took turns shaking her hand until the oldest of the Janeway women embraced Seven heartily before she released her to the youngest one's warm embrace. Seven had felt something that she hadn't felt from many others… acceptance. And what had Seven given them in return…

"Understood." Seven wondered idly why Captain Picard was not leaving. What was there more to say? Then she remembered. Voyager. "I must contact the U.S.S. Titan and Voyager. Deep Space Nine. The Jupiter Station. Starfleet Academy. I do not know where many of the former Voyager crewmembers now reside."

"I'll take care of that, Seven." Picard felt a pain of sympathy as he looked upon the woman whose composure was unwavering, but he could see the streaks of tears that had tracked across her cheeks. Upon their first meeting, he had thought her brusque, bordering on rude, impatient, arrogant and cold. But now he could see past the aloof posturing. Here was a woman who had six years of experience as an individual and whose mentor had just died. This was a woman with a heart broken. "If you'd like to come to the conference room, we'll send out communiqués there."

Picard almost offered to send out the communiqués himself, but he didn't think he had the right. The people onboard Voyager had put aside extreme differences, the line between Starfleet and Maquis had to be dissolved so that they could survive, but not only that they had become a community onboard that vessel, a family, he couldn't be the one to tell them… they had lost one of their own.

CHAPTER 3

U.S.S. Titan

"What's our ETA?" Captain William T. Riker's crystal blue eyes watched the field of stars streak by via the large view screen which indicated their vessel, the Titan, was moving at warp speed. Warp eight point two to be exact. The subspace message that had simply read: The Borg are coming! The Borg are coming! had brought their exploration of the Gum Nebula to a quick end. Contact with Starfleet Command had been impossible and all Riker had to rely on was his own instinct that this was not a joke.

They should have destroyed that damned cube when they had had the chance, his thoughts were decidedly testy though an edge of fear was present as well.

"Thirteen hours seven minutes twenty-two seconds." The calm, impassive voice of his Tactical Officer didn't help his anxiousness over the situation. He wanted to be there. On the frontlines.

What also worried Riker was that his communiqués to the Admiral haven't yet been returned. He had attempted to contact Janeway the moment the alert rang out from an unknown vessel with an impressive communications array. It had carried to the Beta Quadrant and thus to the Titan. It was uncharacteristic of the Admiral not to return his contact and then the fact that the Starfleet Brass were probably locked away if indeed the Borg were heading towards Earth hadn't helped to quell his anxiety that Earth was simply no longer there. Though thoughts such as those were not ones he entertained, especially not on the bridge of his ship.

"Wish they'd make these ships a little faster, huh, Captain." Commander Christine Vale's voice held enough shakiness that Riker knew the smile on his first officer's lips was forced at best.

"You know I heard that if they did we'd all be big lizards right now." Riker knew the tension on the Bridge was thick, the ship just couldn't go any faster, and he being the person that he was needed to cut through it. "Isn't that right, Mr. Tuvok?"

If a Vulcan could flinch with embarrassment, Riker imagined that his Tactical Officer would be doing it. Instead, a raised angled eyebrow was his only sign of perhaps discomfort. Riker had to give it to Voyager and her Captain; they had one hell of a crazy ride.

"Indeed." Tuvok could detect what his Captain was attempting and was not averse to such action, though he thought Captain Riker could use a bit more discretion especially when it involved the mating of a Starship Captain and a helmsman despite their forms.

"That's all you're giving us? 'Indeed'." Deanna smiled brightly at the Vulcan, who to her understanding, had a wicked albeit dry sense of humor. She suspected that he would need it being close friends with the intensely passionate, emotionally charged woman that was Kathryn Janeway. She knew from talks with Will that the Admiral had a rather prickly sense of humor.

"Yeah, come on, Commander, you've got to have tons of Voyager adventure stories." Now Vale's voice was its usual lightness as she twisted in her chair to watch, well no emotions play on the man's features, but she thought she could see an eyebrow rise.

"In our second year in the Delta Quadrant, Voyager encountered several large space dwelling organisms in the midst of reproducing. The ship was pulled into the gravitational field these entities had created. After several unsuccessful attempts to break out of the field mainly due to not wanting to harm the creatures, Voyager became sexually appealing to a rather large specimen and only our imitation of a submissive posturing allowed Voyager to escape unharmed." Tuvok hadn't looked up from his console at any point of the succinct story, especially the end, so he missed the wide eyes and the mouths agape.

"You're pulling our leg, Commander!" Deanna chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief.

"I do not… 'pull legs', Counselor." Tuvok did raise his eyes then and sincerity was the only thing that emanated from them. "It is in the ship's logs."

Seven years worth of ship's logs, especially logs kept so diligently was a lot to read, so Riker had admittedly skimmed over some of the less… exciting episodes. He still wondered how big these Hirogen really were.

Riker cleared his throat as he shifted slightly in his chair. "Well, now that we all have that mental image, I suggest we…"

Riker's suggestion was not to be heard today for there was a subspace transmission from the Enterprise-E. The roar of cheers from everyone, except Tuvok who merely became less tense looking, followed the announcement that the Enterprise-E was presently orbiting Earth and that the Borg cube had been destroyed once and for all. The threat neutralized. Riker had to wonder if that would play favorably for Picard in his possible court martial trial. Another thing he had wanted to talk to the Admiral about despite the inappropriateness to do so. Another line, farther down stopped Riker cold.

Urgent Communiqué: Regarding Admiral Kathryn Janeway for Captain Riker, Commander Tuvok, and Commander Troi.

"Commander Tuvok," his voice was even, Riker knew it was but he could feel his wife's dark eyes look worriedly at his now standing form. "Counselor, you're with me. Vale you have the Conn. Continue present heading."

Riker had led the way not to his ready room but the conference room, where he turned to regard the two commanders who had entered after him. "There's another communiqué from the Enterprise. It's regarding Admiral Janeway. Just for the three of us."

There was something quick, almost too brief for Deanna to pick up with her empathic abilities but she knew what it had been. Tuvok was suddenly deeply concerned. And so was Will. And if truth be told, so was she. If it wasn't something serious it would have been on the subspace telegram.

Riker punched in the appropriate code for the two way communiqué and waited as the large view screen that adorned the far wall from the doorway shifted from the Starfleet symbol to the image of two of the most self-contained individuals he had ever met looking a little worse for wear. The small hairs on the back of his neck began to rise as he carelessly seated himself in the nearest chair. He could feel Deanna's comforting presence right beside him and he caught Tuvok taking a seat across the table.

"What's happened?" Riker wasn't one for preliminaries and he could tell social pleasantries were the least of these two individuals' concerns. He knew Captain Picard well enough to know that this was not news to be taken lightly. Seven, for her part, only looked at Tuvok with an unidentifiable expression on her narrow features.

"This is all classified by Starfleet command under the orders of Admirals Nechayev, Jellico, and Paris, but they had deemed it permissible for the once senior staff of the Voyager to be aware of what has happened to their former Captain." Picard seemed to deflate after the necessary disclaimer had been told as he allowed for Seven to speak for them both.

"The Borg cube thought to be inactive was being studied by a group of scientists led by Admiral Janeway. She was… assimilated." Seven ignored the gasps of surprise, of horror, she maintained her gaze with the Commander whose jaw muscle had twitched at the words. She suspected he already knew what she was going to say next. "She, the Collective transformed her into their new queen. I was given the Endgame virus and also utilized the Doomsday Machine in an attempt to destroy the cube." Again she ignored the gasps from the two emotional beings in the room. "The Doomsday Machine proved unsuccessful and was absorbed into the cube, assimilated, as was I. My… consciousness sought out that of the Admiral's. She… I would not have been successful in deploying the virus if not for her. She overcame the Borg Queen's control and the virus was absorbed. The cube imploded. Admiral Janeway was… irretrievable."

"My god." Will was the first to speak. His voice hushed, reverent as he tried to understand what he had just been told. The unconquerable Kathryn Janeway was… gone. Dead. This didn't seem possible. It didn't seem even conceivable that this woman was no longer with them. He suddenly saw the fatigued expressions and wondered how many people they had called and how many more were left, he stood then. "I… thank you for the information. And I am truly sorry. She was… an extraordinary woman. We'll be to Earth in thirteen hours, I think we'd like to rendezvous with the Enterprise then."

"Of course, Captain." Picard didn't let the smile that usually played on his lips when he referred to his former number one as his present title come forth. He merely nodded. "We're in station keeping for the time being. Enterprise out."

"Commander? Tuvok?" Deanna looked to the Vulcan who maintained his seat and his forward gaze. A muscle in his jaw was the only indication that he had just been told his oldest friend had been killed. "I'm so very sorry, Tuvok."

Tuvok stood then; his movements were jerkier than they had ever seen. And when he turned to acknowledge them his expression was stony though a flash of something resembling anger darkened his eyes. "Permission to go to my quarters, Captain, T'Pel should be made aware of what has happened."

"Of course. Dismissed." Riker waited until the doors had slid shut before he fell back into his chair.

Deanna sat in the chair she had just recently vacated and turned her husband towards her. Moisture had already gathered, but was held captive in his pale blue eyes. And she could feel the tears fall from her own eyes at the incredible pain they had both just witnessed from a man who was supposedly without emotion.

T'Pel had sensed a turbulent storm within her husband long before he entered their living quarters. Most beings thought of Vulcans as emotionless, this was not precisely the case. The history of the Vulcan culture would indicate a society fraught with powerful emotions; their Pon Farr was a case in point. But over the centuries they as a people had learned to suppress to a point where they really didn't have "feelings" so to speak, though the loss of a loved one was felt and T'Pel knew that was what caused the pain that raged within Tuvok.

"Kathryn Janeway is dead." The words had been spoken plainly, without inflection, and if an emotional being had been present they would have thought the words had been spoken coldly. T'Pel knew this was not the case. The crease in her husband's brow and the clenching of his jaw muscles indicated to her that his emotions were kept at bay only because he was an experienced practitioner of the Vulcan ways.

Kathryn Janeway, a woman T'Pel had known for more than twenty years, had been a close family friend perhaps her husband's closest. It had been an oddity for T'Pel to take to such an emotional being so readily. But there had been no doubt that she had the moment she had been introduced to the human woman during the christening of the U.S.S. Billings. T'Pel had found herself intrigued. Even more interesting was that she knew her husband had shared her intrigue despite his admonishments regarding proper tactical protocols or lack thereof. An impassioned woman Captain Janeway had definitely been, but there had been a control there as well, as if the woman debated which of her emotions she was to allow release and then permitted it on her own terms to do so. Calculated without being disingenuous. Impressive and curious.

"She will be missed." The words from T'Pel were no more than the facts, plainly stated, and as heartfelt as their control would allow. "Asil should be contacted."

Their youngest child and only daughter, Asil was what humans referred to as a goddaughter to Kathryn Janeway who had been present for many of Asil's accomplishments including her kohlinahr.

"Indeed." Tuvok moved to the workstation and rested his hands on top of the desk for a few moments, control regained as he set up the communiqué protocols necessary to contact his daughter who was presently stationed on Deep Space Nine. He felt his wife's presence next to him as she too prepared to tell their daughter of the passing of Kathryn Janeway. Relaxed breaths and the beeping of acceptance were the only sounds in the sparse living quarters.

The impassive visage of their daughter clad in a Starfleet uniform filled the void of the screen. "Father. Mother. What has happened?"

Tuvok contained his unease as he addressed the woman before him. "The Borg cube that imploded above Earth contained Admiral Janeway."

No gasp of surprise, shock, dismay was allowed to pass between Asil's lips, though her posture tensed, her chin tilted up and the angled eyebrows characteristic of their people rose. "I… see."

"Her memorial service will no doubt take place soon." Tuvok watched with pride as his youngest maintained her impassive expression. "If you are able?"

"I will be able." Ensign Asil took her duties as a security officer onboard the space station quite seriously, but she also knew what her duty was to her family. "Admiral Janeway was an impressive individual, she will be missed."

"Indeed." With a nod the screen went to the "end transmission" screen, which Tuvok looked at for long moments before he tapped the console to record a log he had wanted never to have to enter.

"Commander Tuvok, Personal log, Stardate 57478.2, Due to an implosion and defeat of a Borg cube in Sector Zero Zero one, I must regretfully note that we have lost Kathryn Janeway. Though I am Vulcan I am not immune to the effect of that loss. I would like the record to show that I have lost a valued friend, one whom I can never replace."

CHAPTER 4

Enterprise-E

"Upon consideration, my best judgment on this matter is that court-martial proceedings not be pursued at this time, but instead that Captain Picard…"—there was a long pause where her expression turned from a contemplative impassivity to a slow grin that emanated warmth and a bit of mischief so characteristic of the woman displayed on the flat screen—"… instead suggest that a commendation for original thinking be entered into his file. You are, of course, free to ignore this recommendation and proceed as you see fit. Janeway out."

The image of the auburn haired woman vanished from the screen as an exhalation of breath expelled from the man that she had just pardoned, her last official instruction and the last visual entry she would ever make. Days before, when he had been informed by Admiral Jellico that Admiral Janeway had "given him a free pass" for disobeying the latter's official order, for the Enterprise-E to not engage the Borg until Seven of Nine could assist them against the cube, he had been surprised but too engaged with Admiral Jellico's insistence that Seven be brought back to Earth to fully appreciate what Janeway had done. He had known her well enough to sense that she was not a person to forgive and forget easily. Known to hold a grudge was something Picard had heard about the woman and considering that Worf had been intimidated at the prospect of speaking to the Admiral, Picard had the very real sense that to be on this particular Admiral's bad side was an unfortunate place to be.

But it would seem that the Admiral had had a change of heart and had shown him, what many would say especially at Command, extreme leniency. Admiral Janeway's last recommendation would not go ignored and with that Picard still had the Enterprise, his command, and the pardon of his crew. He felt humbled, and infinitely grateful.

"Admiral Janeway's commendation has been noted in your official record as well as her pardon." Nechayev's ice cold gaze bore into Picard's. The two had not always seen eye to eye and it was indicative in the way the Admiral seemed to disagree with what she herself had enabled. "If it had been up to me you'd have trouble getting a garbage scow. I expect you to take Kate's leniency as a second chance. I suggest you not waste it."

"I will endeavor not to, Admiral." The forgotten tea was now cold and it took some effort for him to swallow the liquid.

In the hour that Admirals Paris and Nechayev had been onboard Picard had been forced to endure the rather pointed looks of the latter's and the questioning of why the Endgame virus had been employed at this time instead of when a preemptive strike against the Borg would have meant the survival of many officers, including Kathryn Janeway's. The accusation had made Picard bristle and it took him quite a few moments to regain his calm.

"Captain Picard, I see Annika Hansen has requested a shuttle?" Admiral Paris' narrowed blue eyes fixed upon Picard.

"She has and I approved the requisition." Picard was aware that Admiral Paris and Kathryn Janeway had shared a long history with one another. Their relationship had begun at the academy when Paris acted as advisor to the young cadet and then later when Janeway was a science officer on the Al-Batani during the Arias Expedition where the two had been captured by the Cardassians. Picard had no desire to think about what the pair had endured in the hands of a Gul since he knew firsthand what lengths the Cardassians would go to for information. He also knew Paris had been the head of Project: Voyager and he suspected Admiral Paris' unceasing attempts to get Voyager home had not been solely due to the fact that his son had been onboard. He wondered at the man's composure at having lost a woman whom Picard suspected had been like a daughter to the Admiral.

"The Voyager is at Utopia Planitia, Seven wished to tell the crew in person…" Picard said no more, the Admiral before him nodded in understanding. A large portion of the present crew of Voyager had been onboard when Admiral Janeway had captained the ship through the Delta Quadrant.

"You've also requested that news of Admiral Janeway's death not be acknowledged publicly until every single member of the Voyager's past crew has been notified. It is a request I will permit. Have you located the crew?" The last time Paris had seen the Delta Quadrant Voyager crew together in one place had been over a year ago at the one year anniversary of the ship's trumphant return. He regretted that the event that would bring the gallant crew together again was so unfortunate.

"The Titan and her crew have been notified." Picard could still see the disbelief that had been on his former crewmembers' faces and regretted that Riker would be required to shoulder the responsibility of telling his crew of the Admiral's death. "Once I get confirmation from Seven I will send out communiqués to Deep Space Nine, to the McKinley Station, various starships, and several colonies throughout the sector."

The Voyager's previous crew was nothing if not widespread throughout the quadrant. The then Captain Janeway had created quite capable officers, from the reformed Maquis to crewmembers who had just graduated from the academy. Every one of them were now valuable assets to Starfleet who had lost many people to the war.

"Understood. Captain?" Alynna Nechayev's tone was even, but there was a hint of something underneath, a warning perhaps. "Seven of Nine is under your purview. Her reaction to the Admiral's death has raised some questions regarding security."

Picard instantly regretted the inclusion in his report of Seven's assault on Captain Grim Vargo. He knew the young woman hadn't been cognizant of her actions, overcome by grief. The heat of anger and defensiveness for the young woman began to rise strongly within the usually stoic Captain. "Seven isn't a danger to anyone. She's a woman who has just lost a close personal friend. Her strongest link to her humanity. I'd say she is reacting well within her rights. As a human being in pain."

"That may well be the case, but if she becomes a danger to those around her again I expect you to contain her, is that understood?" Despite Kate's repeated entreaties to Nechayev to see Seven as an ally and not as a drone, Alynna still had a hard time buying it. "She has enough Borg in her to pose a threat."

"And enough humanity not to." Picard tired of Nechayev's paranoia. Though he understood it. He had been responsible as Locutus for the death of the Admiral's husband at Wolf 359 and he suspected that the Admiral had not yet forgiven him for that.

"So you say. Just keep an eye on her. That's an order." Nechayev brought the PADD and data strips that had been retrieved from the Captain whom Seven had assaulted in front of her to accentuate her next point. "And remind her that the events surrounding Admiral Janeway's death are classified. The general public will know that she died in the Borg attack against Earth. Nothing more."

"Understood, Admiral." Picard regarded the two and wondered somewhat of their motives until it suddenly came to him. "No one wants her remembered as the monstrosity she had been forced against her will to become."

"Captain Picard, until Seven entered the Collective mind and found Kathryn Janeway's… essence, was there any way for Kate to have broken through before that connection had been made?" It was an unwavering question but one that took effort for Nechayev to speak aloud.

Picard didn't hesitate with his answer. "No. It would have been impossible. The Admiral was a remarkably strong willed individual but even she would not have been able to override the Queen's control. She would have been made to watch the destruction of her world with no more action capable to her than a mental scream of protest. And I imagine the Queen would have merely ignored it or relished in it. But no, Admiral, Kathryn Janeway was lost to us the moment she was assimilated and only Seven's mental strength and connection to the woman allowed for her to overcome what she had been transformed into and cause the Borg Queen's defeat."

Not exactly comforted by the words, but nodding in acceptance nonetheless Nechayev looked evenly at Captain Picard for a few more moments before she exited the ready room. She had needed to hear those words, because the Borg Queen had been frighteningly reminiscent of her friend that she had wondered if they could have reached her… somehow. Then she remembered someone had, the accursed Borg drone. Seven.

CHAPTER 5

U.S.S. Voyager

Captain Chakotay regarded the man before him with what he hoped were unemotional eyes that Tuvok would be proud of. The Trill doctor for his part looked nervous; his light blue eyes were locked onto the slips of smooth paper in his hands.

A clattering of multicolored outdated isolinear chips preceded the doctor's proclamation of raising the already pricey bet. A smile attempted to play on his lips but he maintained his practiced look of unease.

"I think we're being hustled, Captain." Tom Paris looked at his own cards and his expression of unease was real. He didn't have a thing. Though he suspected the others knew this fact his pride wouldn't allow him to be forced out of the game just yet. He threw in the appropriate number of chips.

Deep dimples creased the Captain's cheeks as he nodded his head in agreement. He knew all too well that his Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Jarem Kaz, was an accomplished poker player. Having had two previous lifetimes with the game had given the man all the experience he needed to best the most seasoned of Voyager's crew. Including its previous Captain, who had lost to the doctor with a soft "damn" to accompany her reluctant acceptance of defeat when Voyager had returned from their mission to Loran II almost two years ago. He could still picture her look of irritation when Jarem had swept the mound of isolinear chips into his arms with a low chuckle, Chakotay's smile deepened even more.

"I'm out." Lieutenant Harry Kim sighed heavily as he placed his cards on the table. Poker, he decided, just was not his game. He was never a very good liar. Surprisingly enough the man seated next to him was.

Lieutenant Vorik, Voyager's Chief Engineer, had such a look of impassivity that he could bluff his way past the most unfortunate hand one could be dealt with ease. As he was doing at the moment. More chips were thrown onto the ever accumulating pile.

"This is absolutely the worst game ever!" Lyssa Campbell threw her cards on table with frustration as she settled against her seat, arms crossed. "I suggest Parrises squares but 'no, why don't we play poker, a game of wits'. A game of crappy luck is more like it."

Voyager's Ops Officer was without a doubt the single worst poker player Chakotay had ever had the opportunity to play with. The snorts of disgust and laughs of delight were all genuine. Apparently bluffing was a concept foreign to the young woman.

"It's a game of subterfuge, of maintaining calm, controlling oneself. Every person on the road to command should be an accomplished player. Keeps you sharp. Helps you to contain your emotions. Or at least keep them from showing." Sometimes Chakotay wondered if he sounded as tutorial as he thought. But he wanted each and every one of them to become the best officers they could be and if he sounded like a school teacher while doing it, so be it.

"Really." A warm chuckle accompanied the rather skeptical tone as Jarem Kaz regarded his Captain with humor showing strongly in his ever friendly blue eyes. "I seem to recall a certain Admiral who wasn't too good at hiding her disappointment… and disbelief at losing to a mere commander."

"What can I say? Admiral Janeway doesn't like to lose." Chakotay added his own warm chuckle as he thought of the woman in question. He was aware that some people who didn't know her the way he did thought of Admiral Janeway as somewhat strident, aloof, but he knew her like no other. She was emotionally charged and one thing that got her going like nothing else was to lose. "She does it so rarely that I'm sure she was caught completely off guard. You have the unique distinction of finding a game that she doesn't always win at."

"Lucky me." Jarem wasn't quite sure if such a distinction was particularly good since he knew first hand that the Admiral would challenge him to a game that she was sure to win. Pool. Velocity. Tennis. And the list went on. Though he had to admit he found her lack of modesty when winning endearing. Charming even. Though those were thoughts he kept to himself. As he saw the naked love that shone in Chakotay's dark eyes upon merely thinking about the Admiral, Jarem knew why he did.

Chakotay was anxious to get the overhaul completed on his ship so that he could take it back to Earth. Now that the Borg threat had been eliminated he had deemed it time for the Voyager crew to have a much needed rest period. He himself was looking forward to spending time with a few close friends. One in particular. Again the image of a half-grin warmed Chakotay. He wondered if perhaps the Admiral would be up for a moonlit sail on Lake George.

"Bridge to the Captain." Lieutenant Ayala's deep voice stopped any of the little conversations that had been going on in the Mess Hall and Chakotay's silent musings over appropriate wine for a late night sail.

"Chakotay here, go ahead."

"Sir, I have a request from Seven of Nine to be beamed aboard. She has also requested to speak with the senior staff."

"Seven?" Chakotay hadn't seen the woman for over a year, not since the one year anniversary and he wondered why she had come to Voyager without a subspace communiqué to alert them of her arrival. "Of course, Lieutenant, welcome her onboard."

Seven had, for about three weeks, been a woman Chakotay had attempted to form a romantic relationship with, but it had ultimately proved unsuccessful. Upon their arrival on Earth, Seven had broken off the relationship. He had been hurt then, but he understood, and if truth be told a bit relieved. She was not the person he saw in his future.

With the card game already forgotten, Chakotay led most of the members of his senior staff out of the sliding doors of the Mess Hall.

"I wonder what's up." Tom wondered if it had something to do with the Borg again. He wished that the damned Collective would finally be done away with once and for all. No other race he had ever come across caused more havoc and death than they and he hated them for it.

"Must be important. Seven isn't really one to just drop by for a chat." An unsettling in his stomach was the start of worry that blossomed in Harry Kim. Whatever made Seven come to Voyager didn't bode well.

The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge where Seven of Nine was already present. Her customary pose hinted at nothing. Nor did her expressionless appearance.

"I must speak with the senior staff at once." Seven didn't wait for the greetings that had been stopped by her brusque tone as she led the way swiftly to the conference room.

"Nice to see you too, Seven." Tom's voice was soft and sarcastic as he too followed the woman that had all but made orders to them all.

The silver starship caught in metal pylons loomed high above Seven's small shuttlecraft and she attempted to not allow the sight of Kathryn Janeway's beloved vessel to adversely affect her emotional calm, as precarious as it was. She powered down the impulse engines and pressed the appropriate controls to hail the vessel that had been her home for four of the most important years of her life. Mostly due to the woman who had Captained it diligently and effectively for seven arduous years.

"Seven of Nine to Voyager." How many times has she said those words and received a warm, throaty response.

"Lieutenant Ayala here, what can I do for you, Seven?"

"I request to be beamed to the bridge. I must speak to Voyager's senior staff immediately."

"Hold position. I need to contact the Captain."

"Understood." Seven let a soft exhalation of breath to expel from her lips. She loathed waiting. Especially in this instance.

"Voyager to Seven."

"Proceed." Seven had forgotten how inefficient Starfleet protocol was.

"Standby for transport."

The shimmering of the transporter beam comforted her. Finally, the familiar vision of the Voyager Bridge appeared before her. The tall, dark haired man in command red who she knew as an extremely quiet man greeted her with a nod of his head. She heard the turbolift doors slide open and the present senior staff of the U.S.S. Voyager exited. She could tell by their curious looks that they were ill-prepared for what she had to say.

"I must speak with the senior staff at once."

Once the staff had all seated themselves they turned their undivided attention to the woman who had called this meeting of sorts.

Seven looked upon the people who awaited her words. She knew what she had to say but hesitated in her wording. Bluntness was not what this situation required. Compassion and honesty, emotions that she had always attempted to control and conceal, she would give it all to these people. They deserved no less.

"I am… uncertain how to proceed. I dedicated the time it took to arrive here from the Enterprise-E to compile my thoughts, to order my words, but it would seem a… an unsuccessful endeavor." Seven's voice grew quiet, uneven. It startled those around her to see her human eye expel tears. Never had they ever seen the woman this emotional, enough to cry in the presence of others which they had never known her to do. This was the exact moment they grew concerned, in fact a good many of them were terrified.

"What is it, Seven?" Chakotay's voice held comfort, encouragement, even as a coldness gripped his heart, painfully.

"As you are all aware Earth almost fell at the power of the Borg cube that had been deemed inoperative after it reactivated and targeted Earth. What you do not know is why it reactivated and how. Four days ago, Admiral Janeway and a group of scientists boarded the thought to be dead cube in order to study it. The fate of the scientists is still not known, but what we do know is that once they were onboard the cube activated and… assimilated Admiral Janeway." Seven's voice cracked then. The glistening tears on her cheek were left unnoticed by her as she tried to regain her voice as sounds of horrified shock filled the room.

"My god." It sounded like a prayer and perhaps it had been. Chakotay's hands gripped the arms of his chair as the coldness that had started in his chest spread quickly throughout his body leaving him paralyzed with fear.

"But… the Admiral's okay right? I mean, the Borg are gone. Earth's safe. She's fine, right, Seven?" Harry Kim's voice would brook for no argument, his caramel colored boyish features reddened as he stood abruptly from the table. The hand of his best friend that restrained his movements was disregarded as he struggled out of the grasp.

"Harry." Tom's voice brought his friend's attention to him and what Harry saw made him retake his seat. Tom Paris' bright blue eyes shimmered with tears that were barely kept contained as he shook his head uncertainly.

"Seven, please, continue." Jarem Kaz held one of Lyssa Campbell's hands with an almost painfully strong grip as he nodded in encouragement.

"The Admiral was… transformed. The Borg needed their queen and so they made one." Now Seven's voice shook not only from despair but from rage, fury shot through her thin form as she thought of what violations the Borg had inflicted upon a woman who had been so dear to her. "The Borg Queen had a primary demand, she wanted for Locutus and me to rejoin the Collective. Utilizing her desire a plan was devised, I was injected by a virus created to destroy the Borg. Once I was assimilated into the Collective I was to deploy the virus. But I failed. The Queen created a firewall against the virus. I tried to find a way past it but it was ineffective. I could not break down the firewall. But Kathryn Janeway could. And did. She overcame the Borg Queen's control and allowed the virus to penetrate the Collective."

A mixture of pride and impossible sadness shone in Seven's eyes as she prepared herself for the words that needed to be said, but that she did not want to be the one to speak them. To tell this group of people of the loss that they would all have to acknowledge as fact.

Thank you, Seven.

"At twenty-two thirty-one hours, the Borg cube imploded. We have… lost Kathryn Janeway." Seven cast her eyes to the floor as she had no more words to say nor would the tightness in her throat allow her to.

"NO!" The angry, booming sound of Chakotay's voice broke through the silent disbelief that had filled the room. "No! You've got to be wrong! There has to be a mistake! She can't die! She's Kathryn Janeway, damn it! She can't be dead!"

"I am sorry." And Seven was. The man before her who was forever calm, contained now shook with fury as he pointed his finger accusingly at her.

"You're sorry?" Chakotay tossed the chair away from him as he stalked angrily toward the woman. "Why, Seven? Why didn't you save her? Was she suddenly irrelevant?"

He spat the words out, disgust laced within as he looked at her optical implant. Never before had he ever wanted to hurt anyone in his life how he wanted to hurt the woman before him. He pictured ripping that piece of technology from the woman's face and crushing it beneath his foot. He disregarded the voices of his crew which protested his words and behavior.

"She was not irrelevant. I could not retrieve her. Her physical body had been destroyed long before her consciousness." Seven had not wanted to release that bit of knowledge but she wasn't thinking clearly at the moment. She had become quite incensed at the accusation that she had allowed Kathryn Janeway to die. Seven knew she would have given her life readily if it would have saved the Admiral.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Lyssa Campbell hadn't meant the question to be released but she had no power over her own words. She was beginning to feel sick to her stomach.

The question was not answered because the woman who had the query posed to her was now laid out on the deck; blood flowed from a large cut to her bottom lip. She had welcomed the pain from the blow as it would take her mind off the impossible pain that was not produced by a physical stimulus. The proceeding blows, however she did prevent.

"Chakotay, stop!" Jarem Kaz used all the strength he had to keep the man from pummeling the fallen woman. He was grateful that Vorik had also deemed it logical to assist in the restraint. "Stop! Damn it, you've got to stop!"

"Why, Seven, why?" Chakotay felt himself being restrained by his CMO and his Chief Engineer, but he didn't care as he fought against their strength. He needed an answer. Something to explain why, how this could happen. Why the universe had been so cruel as to take this woman away from them, from him. "Why didn't you save her?"

"I… did not have the ability to do so." Seven brushed blood off onto the back of her hand as she pushed herself into a seated position against the conference room wall. "If there had been a way, I would have succeeded. The Borg Queen was too powerful for me to overcome. She was too powerful for the Admiral to overcome for more than a few seconds. Admiral Janeway used that time to save us, by sacrificing herself. I could do nothing to prevent it even if she would have allowed for me to do so. And I—even though a part of me did want that to be a possibility, she had made her decision. I could do nothing."

"God." It came out as a strangled cry as Chakotay collapsed into the hold of his crewmates. He didn't even notice as they led him to his chair. His hands went to his face as the anger he had felt so hotly was engulfed by anguish, an overwhelming sorrow, and the knowledge that his heart would never be the same, that he would never be the same.

"Seven?" After gaining the ability to move again, Tom Paris helped Seven from the carpeted floor. The tears he had tried so desperately to contain now flowed unchecked down his face as he looked at the deep cut in her lip. "Are you okay?"

"No." Seven wiped the blood from her hand onto her pant leg without much care. "I do not believe I am."

"Come on, let's get you to a chair." Tom grasped the woman close to him as he made his way to the conference room table. The seat he had just vacated was quickly filled by a shaking Seven of Nine.

"Is it true, Seven, is she… is she really… dead?" Harry had used all of his will power not to breakdown, to allow the bile to rise higher into his throat, his voice had been soft, utterly lost.

"Yes." Seven avoided Chakotay's pointed glare as she addressed Harry. "I am sorry, Harry."

"But maybe the Borg transported her or protected her from the explosion somehow." Harry's voice was more shrill and desperate sounding than he would have liked but he needed to pose the possibility that the Admiral wasn't dead. Because it just seemed such an impossibility for it to be otherwise. "She could still be alive! Trapped by the Borg. We could—"

"Harry!" Tom had seen his friend like this only once before, during their sixth year in the Delta Quadrant they had been part of an away team that had been given the memories of soldiers unintentionally involved in a massacre. Harry had had the same frantic jerky movements and dazed expression in his eyes then as he did now. And that worried Tom more than he cared to think about or deal with. He had enough on his mind as is.

Harry Kim looked at his best friend as if horribly betrayed. "Don't you want to help the Admiral? She could still be out there! We have to do something!"

Harry looked with pleading eyes at the assembled. Their attentions were on themselves, their own sorrow, even when his voice rose higher as he slammed his fist against the table. "DAMN IT, LISTEN TO ME!"

The anger, the frustration, the despair grew within Harry until he felt an almost overwhelming urge to break something or to punch someone.

"Go ahead, Harry, I'll give you a free one." Tom held his friend's quaking shoulders with strong hands. "But the next swing you take, I'm hitting back."

Tom followed his friend to the deck as Harry's legs buckled under the strain of his pain and enormous sense of loss.

"She's gone, Harry. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone. She's gone." Tom's softly spoken mantra was not only for Harry but for himself as well.

The passing on of the Admiral's death had been the regrettable responsibility of Seven but the acceptance of her being gone would come only from themselves. How long that would take would be up to each of them.

"Damn." Tom's oath was the one worded sudden remembrance that he had to tell… "B'Elanna."

"I'm sorry, Seven."

Doctor Jarem Kaz brought the dermal regenerator offline before he placed it on a nearby tray. His kind blue eyes never wavered from the woman seated dejectedly before him.

"Your apology is illogical, Doctor, you were not the one who struck me." Seven unconsciously put her fingers to the spot that had just been healed. The wound would have been closed quickly by her nanoprobes, but she had deferred to the CMO's wishes that she follow him to sickbay. She had suspected it was to separate her and Captain Chakotay so she had agreed readily. The pointed looks of rage and disgust that Chakotay had directed towards her had not assisted her in her own emotional control.

"I'm still sorry and the Captain would be too if he was in any other state of mind." He brought a chair in front of the biobed and seated himself with a heavy sigh. "And I'm also sorry… about Admiral Janeway. I… liked her a lot, admired her, I don't believe in all my years of living I've met her equal. She was truly amazing."

Something flashed across Seven's gaze then as if she was attempting to discern something hidden in his words. Her icy blue eyes narrowed as she looked upon the Trill. "Were you in love with her, Doctor?"

"What?" Jarem's brow creased, he was so surprised by the question he honestly had nothing more intelligent to say.

"Were you in love with Kathryn Janeway?" Seven's voice was suspicious as if his affirmative answer would be all the reason she would need to enact some sort of severe punishment.

"Seven, I—why are you even asking me this?" Jarem Kaz knew he was stalling. He also knew that there had been a time not so long ago when he had found the Admiral absolutely captivating. He thought perhaps that would not be what this young woman would want to hear.

"You are attempting to divert my attention to an irrelevant question before you answer mine."

Seven stood then and Jarem Kaz could think only one thing. Oh, hell, she's going to knock my head off.

"As I said, she was an amazing person, Seven, and I'll be honest with you if situations had been different I might have tried to pursue at least a real date with her, but it was what it was. So no, I respected her, cared for her as a friend, but I wasn't in love with her." Jarem had tried to bring his own rising temper down. Emotions were running extremely high, too high. And their counselor, Astall, just had to take her shore leave early. But because he had felt his own ire rise it gave him all the motivation to ask a question he knew he shouldn't have asked. It was inappropriate, mean spirited, and below him. But he did it anyway. "What about you, Seven? Were you in love with her?"

Jarem Kaz was not prepared for the screeching sound of the crushing of titanium under Seven's hand as the biobed, fortunately for him, took the brunt of the woman's objection to the question.

"This irrelevant discourse is over." And with those haughty and clipped words Seven of Nine walked efficiently out of Sickbay leaving the doctor to shake his head in sadness and empathy.

"You weren't supposed to die. You were going to outlive us all. A part of me thought you were immortal, maybe a part of me just wished it. Because losing you—knowing that you're gone, it wasn't something I ever wanted to think about. But here I am, seated in the ready room that I still imagine sometimes to be yours as if I'm just filling in while you are out charming alien dignitaries or saving wayward crewmembers.

"We've always looked to you to lead us, to lend us your unconquerable strength, your warmth and compassion, your humor… perhaps that was selfish of us. Perhaps we took you for granted because you were always there. Unselfishly, unwavering, lending support, wisdom, and even a deftly placed blow.

"And now you're gone. We've lost you to the Borg. The unbeatable Borg versus the indomitable Kathryn Janeway. Well, you beat them, Kathryn. Perhaps that's what makes the only sense in all of this. We've come up against many adversaries: the Hirogen, the Vidiian, Species 8472, the Q, the Nacene, and of course the Borg and none could ultimately defeat you. You could only truly be conquered by the one person with enough power to do so, Kathryn Janeway. You died how you lived, your way.

"I, you would be disappointed in me, in my reaction. I know you would. Hell, I'm disappointed in myself. I—I shouldn't have allowed my anger, my despair, to overpower my sense of right and wrong, of duty. Seven didn't stop me, I know she could have, and it makes me even more disgusted with myself for allowing myself to strike her, to strike out at the person who had the terrible task of telling her… family that you had died. I should seek her out. Apologize. But I just can't bring myself to do it just yet.

"A part of me is with Harry. That maybe you are still out there. Trapped in your own personal hell within the Borg Queen and as selfish as it is, I carry hope that you are. Because if you are we'll save you. We're your crew and a crew does not abandon… their Captain. But I know you aren't and I know you wouldn't want to be alive in that way. You sacrificed yourself for Earth, for us. You wouldn't have hesitated in the least. As I know I would have given my life to preserve yours. But it's all so… futile now, isn't it.

"I—I want so desperately, more than I've ever wanted anything in my life, for you to walk through those doors and tell me it had all been another one of your Janeway maneuvers. That it was unfortunate that you had to worry us all, but that you're fine and that your plan was a success. That you're alive and safe. But I know that's not going to happen. Because as much as I wanted it to be true, you weren't immortal, Kathryn.

"I've set a course for Earth. The crew that loved you deserves to pay their respects even though I know you would have a blush to your cheeks and a small humble but bright smile at the display of love that will be shown. They loved you, Kathryn. And I—I will always love you. I know you could never return my feelings while we were still trying to get this ship back to the Alpha Quadrant. And then I became Captain and you were my Admiral and I… I was scared to tell you that I was still in love with you.

"When we agreed to push our budding relationship aside when we were returned to Voyager after New Earth I couldn't just stop loving you. I'm sure you knew. Or maybe you didn't. I don't know. I wasted so much time not knowing, not asking. I was a coward and I know you'd forgive me for that, but I'm not sure if I can ever forgive myself for not telling you all you should have heard. That you were loved, deeply, passionately. That you were the bravest, strongest, most compassionate and intelligent person I have ever met. That you were charming and beautiful, your smile filled those lucky enough to see it with such warmth, that your eyes captivated, that your voice was like nothing else, powerful when need be or comforting. That I fell in love with you the instant I saw you in that tiny view screen onboard the Val Jean and fell in love with you more with each day of knowing you. I should have told you all this. But maybe you can hear me now. I will love you forever, Kathryn.

"End personal log."

Captain Chakotay rested against his chair as he let out an expulsion of breath close to a sob. The tears had all but dried up and now he allowed a small bittersweet smile to form as he activated a holoimage framed in polished wood.

"Maybe if you'd stop taking pictures you could help me out here." The voice was cheerful, teasing, and a bit exasperated. The picture had been taken only days before Voyager had returned to New Earth for them. She had been dressed in a cobalt colored dress of a simple cut and smooth light weight material and he had thought her amazingly lovely in it. The color had highlighted her eyes and he had been lost in them the entire day they had attempted to put a patio onto their habitat.

"You're doing just fine." The joy in his voice was evident.

He had said then that he had wanted the whole construction to be well documented. She hadn't seemed overly suspicious of the flimsy reason. In truth he paid little attention to the rather dilapidated structure and all of it on how her hair drifted in the breeze, the moving of the muscles of her arms as she worked, and the way her dress flowed about her trim, feminine body. The holoimage froze at the point where she had one hand on her slim waist while the other had rested thoughtfully on her strong chin as she seemed to be attempting to will the structure to maintain cohesion.

"Kathryn." He whispered her name on a soft breath as he set the flat piece of metal atop the desk in front of him. "What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to do any of this without you? You weren't supposed to leave us."

He looked around the room that had been her domain for seven years and unbidden images of her formed. Images of him with her.

"Am I the only one who's so intent on getting home?" Her voice had been so unsure, soft, almost pleading. It had been so unlike her, but then one does not meet an idol who was supposed to be dead for four hundred years every day. And they couldn't have anticipated a colony of humans on a planet in the middle of the Delta Quadrant either. "Is it just me? Am I leading the crew on a forlorn mission with no real hope for success?"

He had tried to convey his trust, his confidence in her, his allegiance with his dark eyes and calm voice. "You're not alone."

"Four years ago I didn't even know your name, now I can't imagine a day without you." The warmth in his chest had been overwhelming then and it was all he could do to stand still as she rested a small, delicate hand on his chest and peered up at him with the softest of expressions. An expression of gratitude, of friendship, of deep affection.

"My life is far from uneventful here in the Delta Quadrant. It's not like I would have had a chance to pursue a relationship even if I had realized I was alone." He had looked at her then debating whether she was saying something to elicit a reaction from him or merely speaking idly.

"You're hardly alone, and to my way of thinking, there's plenty of time." He had wanted to tell her then how much he loved her, desired her, but he couldn't. He had been too afraid and she had seemed so fragile.

"I won't do this without my First Officer." Her eyes had the blaze within them that told him despite her words she would go ahead with the plan, she could do no less when it meant saving those in need.

"The way I see it, risking the safety of Voyager is a small price to pay. If we help these people, this could be the turning point in our battle against the Borg." He had kept his voice neutral, he hadn't wanted to show indecision or worry. She had seemed agitated enough.

"I'm glad we agree, because I almost talked myself out of it." The mischievous half-grin had lightened some of the tension in the room as it always did.

He had smiled, a teasing tone entered into his own response. "Somehow I don't think you were ever in danger of doing that."

Countless memories continued to flood his thoughts with images of her. Despite thinking he could shed no more tears, Chakotay wept at the past he cherished and the future he had wished for but would never be.

Lieutenant Harry Kim attempted to keep his attention on the energy distribution flows shown on the Operations Station displays but he found that his dark gaze would often stray to the command chair or to the ready room where he had first met Captain Janeway, it seemed a lifetime ago now when he had been a newly promoted Ensign on his first mission. He remembered how he had tried to prepare himself the best he could regarding the mission to the Badlands and the woman who commanded the USS Voyager. He had been incredibly impressed by her scientific achievements and intrigued that she had come up through the sciences and not command, but nothing had prepared him for actually meeting the woman.

She had presented a complex mixture of command and warmth, control and barely restrained energy, professionalism and a wry sense of humor, an almost overwhelming presence contained in a petite, compact form. Harry had to smile as he heard her distinctive voice in his head.

Mister Kim, at ease before you sprain something.

She had caught him off guard and if it had been possible he had become even more rigid at the order. The blush that had come to his cheeks when her blue eyes had seemed to scan him had embarrassed him, when he had stumbled over words he had felt the blush grow, but she had seemed not to notice any of it as she informed him to address her as "Captain". And so she had been for seven years.

Harry Kim had always wanted to excel at everything he did whether it had been music or Parrises squares and especially as a Starfleet officer, but as he had begun to understand what that meant she had always been there to encourage him, to teach him, to enable him to be the sort officer that he wanted so desperately to be.

I just want you to know you've been one of the bright spots of this whole mission. You've exceeded any expectations I might have had of you.

Too often he had felt inept, one step behind, or unable to process what he had experienced whether it be when he had died in order to escape the Vhnori's Next Emanation or when he had inadvertently miscalculated the slipstream telemetry, which might have caused Voyager's destruction if it hadn't been for a future Harry Kim who had sent corrections to Seven.

Mister Kim, we're Starfleet officers weird is part of the job.

And even when he knew he had disappointed her, defied her orders when he been overcome by his infatuation with Derran Tal, the Varro rebel leader, she had been there for him, not to approve of his behavior but to state her understanding of it.

The truth is, Harry, I think about you differently than the rest of the crew. Which isn't to suggest that I don't care deeply about each of them. You came to me fresh out of the Academy, wide-eyed with excitement about your first deep space assignment. From that first day, I've always felt more protective of you than the others.

He had been sitting dejectedly on the biobed when she had said these words to him, kindly, softly and he had appreciated them but he hadn't wanted her to feel that she needed to protect him. Five years was a long time and he had hoped that he had changed in that time, had become more capable, even perhaps had become a respected and valuable officer despite the fact that he had felt he was no longer the perfect officer.

Maybe not, but you're a better man.

And as Harry looked around the Bridge he felt truly for the first time in his life that he was worthy of her respect and confidence. He was the Chief Tactical Officer, third in line for command, onboard the vessel he had started his career on and he felt proud of that and he knew that he wouldn't be the man he was today if not for his first Captain. She had allowed him to learn, to gain confidence, to become that great Starfleet officer he had dreamed of becoming when he was a child. And even though he knew he was no longer the straight-laced Harry Kim that had never missed a single class in his entire academic career or the thought to be perfect officer who would follow orders without question, since he had been a more than willing participant in assisting Admiral Janeway in removing Seven, Icheb, and the Doctor from imprisonment, he knew that he had become that better man.

Harry wiped away the tears that had almost dropped from his eyes, he wasn't about to breakdown in front of his crew. Instead he refocused his attention on the equations he had inputted into the terminal even as Jarem Kaz passed by him with no acknowledgment as the doctor went directly to the ready room where their Captain had sequestered himself for the last several hours. Harry would have noticed the delayed admittance of the doctor if he hadn't been so focused on the outcome of his equations. The tachyo-kinetic energy output was very promising.

Jarem Kaz prided himself on being a patient, understanding man, so it was with some surprise that he found himself quite impatiently awaiting entry into Captain Chakotay's ready room. He had debated for several long moments whether to address how the Captain had reacted upon hearing the tragic news of Admiral Janeway's death, namely the man's physical assault on Seven, or to allow the emotional man some time so he could address it himself. But it had been several hours since the incident, Voyager was almost ready for departure procedures and Chakotay had been hidden away in his ready room since Jarem had taken Seven to Sickbay.

The Doctor wondered if he would perhaps not be allowed in when the doors slid open with a low hiss. The sparse ready room looked as it always did and Jarem was glad that no destruction had occurred. His gaze went to his commanding officer who was seated at the centrally positioned desk, holophotos and PADDs were scattered on top. As Jarem approached hesitantly he had no doubts as to who was featured in those photos.

"Doctor, what did you need?" Chakotay's voice was soft, worn and he didn't look up from the PADD he was currently reading. His dark face was ruddy, but that was the only evidence that strong emotions had played out upon it.

Jarem seated himself with a sigh not waiting for permission as his light blue eyes moved over the various photos that displayed Kathryn Janeway in various forms and incarnations. In some, she was the ever commanding Captain dressed in the old style uniform of the early seventies and the others, the more captivating ones, were her in civilian attire, dresses, and casual pant suits. He caught his Captain's dark eyes as they both looked up from the photos.

"I need you to be the Captain." Jarem tried to modulate his voice so it didn't sound accusing but he wasn't certain he succeeded. The look on Chakotay's voice would agree with his uncertainty.

"You're out of line, Jarem." Chakotay's voice lacked the strength to be defensive, it sounded tired and he looked near exhaustion. Emotionally and physically drained, Chakotay rested against the back of his chair as he tried to muster some strength to defend himself against his CMO.

"That might be true, but I'm right." Jarem leaned forward as he drew the Captain's attention away from the photos with a hand atop of them. "Harry is devastated and looking for away to time travel I might add, Tom has locked himself away in his quarters, Seven's hiding out in the astrometrics lab, Lyssa, Vorik, and some of the others are holding a prayer service in the mess, and the Captain… well he's hidden himself away in his ready room when what his crew needs is their commanding officer at this time of mourning. To be strong, steady, to see them through this."

Jarem could see that he had lost Chakotay to the photos once again. And as it did when he had been blindsided by Seven in Sickbay, his temper became short and words he knew he shouldn't say came to the fore. "Admiral Janeway would be ashamed if she could see you now."

That gained the Captain's attention as his head shot up and dark, narrowed eyes locked onto Jarem with dangerous intent. The heat rose visibly on Chakotay's dusky features and again Jarem thought the same exact thing he had when he had been with Seven. Oh, hell, he's going to knock my head off.

Too far in to leave now, Jarem persevered, he was going to get through to Chakotay somehow. "What, Captain, are you going to hit me, like you hit Seven?"

The Captain seemed to deflate due to an unseen force as the anger left him and shame filled his dark features. He returned his lumbering form to his chair as he pushed his hand through his silver speckled close cropped hair.

"What would you have me do, Jarem?" The voice was honestly questioning, Chakotay wanted an answer because he was at a loss.

"This crew needs their Captain, Chakotay. Most of the crew onboard was with the Admiral in the Delta Quadrant, you surely know better than I how they feel about her." Jarem knew from just talking with the various ex-Delta Quadrant crewmembers over the years that respect, admiration, and deep seated loyalty were in abundance. And the Doctor knew that for others it had run deeper than that for the woman who had gotten her ship, her crew, home. "They need you to be present for them."

"I've spent the last… I don't know how many hours sitting here, thinking about the hundreds, thousands, of times I've seen her in this room, sitting right here where I am, or seated underneath the windows, or pacing around the room figuring how to get us through the latest crisis and I can't help but to think, I just keep thinking, how am I going to do this? How am I supposed to do any of this without her?" Chakotay's moist eyes drifted to a photo of the two of them at Neelix's first annual celebration of Prixin. She had been dressed in a simply designed plum colored dress that had held her small form attractively and he could see in his own face looking up at him that he had been utterly enthralled with that dress and the way her long thick chestnut colored hair had been allowed free reign and had drifted softly around her delicate shoulders.

"You will, because I know that's what she would want you to do." Jarem leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on a broad shoulder of his Captain. "And I… I am so very sorry, Chakotay. I can't imagine how much pain you are in. But I know about fifty people onboard right now who are also in pain and they need you."

Chakotay looked evenly at Jarem Kaz before he tapped his comm. badge. "All hands, this is the Captain, we will hold a service for Admiral Janeway in one hour in the Mess Hall. I believe it would be fitting to do so on the ship she loved so much and the crew that had meant so much to her. Chakotay out."

"I know I'm not Astall." Jarem Kaz could picture the Huanni counselor, how her pale purple ears would have drooped in sympathy and sadness for her Captain and crewmates. Jarem held his hands before him offering himself up. "But I want you to know if you want to talk, I'm here."

As Jarem stood to leave since he had assumed the silence had been an indication Chakotay had no intention of talking to him, the Captain's soft voice stopped him and rooted him in his seat with the words that were so sadly expelled.

"I love her." Chakotay shook with the renewed anguish he felt. He had thought he had it managed until his CMO walked in and made him confront his regret again. "God how I loved her."

"I know." And Jarem did. It had been apparent immediately when the three of them had met at Sandrine's. What Jarem didn't know was if it had been apparent to the Admiral.

"I suppose you did." Chakotay wasn't necessarily comfortable with the idea of him being so easily read, but then he had never really hid his feelings for Kathryn Janeway that well.

"Did she?" Jarem hadn't meant to ask the question, but he did want to know the answer and he thought perhaps it would help his Captain to lay it all out there.

"Yes." Chakotay sighed as he wiped his eyes with his large, tanned hands. "At the end of our second year in the Delta Quadrant, she and I were infected by a virus and had to remain on a planet that prevented the symptoms of the virus to manifest. We were on New Earth for almost four months. I had thought myself in love with her long before then, almost immediately upon meeting her actually, but nothing could have prepared me for spending four month alone with her. I—I didn't know how much I could feel for another until then. One night I told her a… an ancient legend, a way for me to tell her how much I loved her, I had never seen her cry before that moment and it was… the most beautiful thing I have ever seen because she had smiled as well. But then Voyager came back for us. With the cure. And we were the Captain and her loyal first officer again. She told me no, kindly and sweetly, but firmly. And I had tried to understand, did understand, she was so focused on keeping us safe and getting us home, she didn't feel like she could have anything else in her life besides her mission and her responsibility."

"And then when you got back you became a Captain and she became your Admiral." Jarem shook his head sadly at the lost opportunities. Over the last two years of knowing both Captain Chakotay and Admiral Janeway, the doctor had seen how the quiet, reserved man would almost glow with warmth for the woman, how broad his smile was and how Chakotay would look at her with such a look of adoration that Jarem had almost felt like he was interrupting something private, intimate. She, however, had never been as readable. Of course, there was warmth that emanated from the woman, that was almost a constant when she had been with people she trusted, mainly her former senior staff. But Jarem had to admit, he wasn't sure how the Admiral would have responded if Chakotay had confessed his feelings to her.

"And I became a coward." Chakotay had worried so much that she would have rejected him again that he hadn't been brave enough to tell her what he still felt for her. Had always felt for her. "I wish I had told her, I wish she had known how much she was loved. Not just by me. Hundreds of people that span the quadrants, they loved her too. We owe her so much."

Jarem Kaz and Chakotay sat in silent contemplation for long moments both thinking of the woman who had an almost uncanny ability to captivate a person, to garner their loyalty and trust, to encourage their confidence and self-assurance, and to gain their admiration and love without any conscious trying on her part. That was just who Kathryn Janeway was.

"I think… a part of her did know. She struck me as a pretty perceptive person." Jarem grasped his commanding officer's forearm. "Maybe not to the extent that some felt, but I have no doubt that she loved her crew immensely."

"Thank you, Jarem." Chakotay rose from his chair before he grasped the hand of his CMO. "It was… good to tell someone, everything. But now the crew needs its Captain. And he needs to apologize to someone first."

The steady blue eyes were locked onto Seven's as she felt a muscle twitch in her jaw underneath the starburst implant as she tried to determine the sincerity in those husky tones and the fact that she wanted so desperately to trust her Captain, her mentor, her friend as she had before, unquestionably. The softly spoken words stirred something within Seven, a warmth spread throughout her chest and she felt a small amount of salty moisture gather at the corner of her one human eye. She almost smiled as she found a discrepancy in her Captain's remembrance.

"It was Stardate 52842, oh six hundred hours in the Mess Hall. We had just finished breakfast." Seven's voice caught a bit, she remembered the event in question perfectly. It had been two mornings after she had been rescued by the Captain after Seven had rejoined the Collective in order to ensure Voyager's safety. Seven hadn't been able to fully understand how the Captain had so easily forgiven her and the betrayal, but Captain Janeway had and their relationship had returned to what it had been except that Seven had felt a decided need to express her feelings even if her words turned out to be inadequate. Her voice had been soft, but the Captain had heard her heartfelt words and Seven had detected moisture in her Captain's eyes as she nodded in acceptance at the words of gratitude.

Seven could detect the same soft look on her Captain's elegant features now and the same trapped, but present moisture in the blue eyes. "My mistake. Stardate today. Janeway beams aboard the Delta Flyer. She reminds Seven of the bond that has grown between them. Seven lowers the force field and she decides to come home. All I'm asking is that you trust me again."

And in that moment, despite the paranoid scenarios that played through her mind, Seven did trust again because she had never known this woman to ever be anything less than honest with her. She lowered the force field and watched almost tensely as her Captain closed the distance between them and lowered her small frame into a kneeling position very close to Seven. Seven had never wanted to embrace a person as she had wanted to then, but having felt extremely inept at the physical action she instead tried to convey with her light blue eyes the emotions that welled within. And she knew her Captain understood, because she understood so much about Seven and always had, and as she requested a beam out she had smiled, a gentle grateful smile and Seven had felt safe and loved.

"Seven?"

Seven did not turn around to acknowledge the other person who had been responsible for the creation of the impressive Astrometrics lab she had been occupying for the past several hours. Ever since her discomforting discussion with Jarem Kaz.

"Seven?" Harry waited for her to turn around, but when she didn't he debated whether to just leave or to try to comfort her and perhaps find some for himself in the process. "What are you doing?"

"I am remembering." Her voice had been soft, but sure. "I find this space conducive to the activity."

"I—I can't be on the Bridge right now." Harry was ashamed of his own unease, but when Seven finally did face him there was a look of understanding on her features. Feeling more comfortable now that he had admitted this he continued. "Or the Mess Hall. I feel like, like I can hear her voice, it's like… a holoprogram is running in my head. I can see us. Talking. She would always encourage me to trust in myself, even when I didn't really know what I was doing, felt like I was two steps behind, she would say something or smile and I felt like I could do it. I, I wanted her to be proud of me."

"Do you have reason to doubt that she was, Lieutenant?" Seven almost admitted her same desire and perhaps if he was reassured she would be too.

"I don't know… no, I don't think so." Harry shook his head as if trying to come up with the correct answer. Finally when he did, he smiled. "I felt that she was."

"When my cortical node shut down I too had fears that I had… disappointed her. I thought that she would not accept my death because I was incomplete. I have always looked to her as my guide to humanity, my example. I have needed her constant assistance to develop my individuality. I thought I had failed, failed her. She told me I had not, that she was unable to accept my death because she did not want to lose… a friend." Seven could envision their conversation perfectly in her mind. The Captain's eyes had held tears and her voice had been gentle, shaky but resolute when she had addressed Seven's fears.

You haven't failed, Seven. You've exceeded my expectations. You've become an individual, an extraordinary individual. If I'm having trouble accepting your condition it's only because I don't want to lose a friend.

"God, Seven, what're we going to do without her?" Harry was visibly shaken from the vulnerability Seven had just displayed and how it matched his own.

"We will carry on," Seven's chin tilted up in certainty. "That is what she would want us to do."

Tom Paris stared blankly at the now black screen of his desktop monitor that had contained the image of his wife only moments ago. To say that B'Elanna Torres hadn't taken the news of Kathryn Janeway's death well would be the understatement of the century. His ears continued to ring in response to the bellow of rage and anguish that had escaped powerfully from his half-Klingon wife. He had been glad that their daughter and her godfather were taking a tour of the lava flows instead of at the hololab. He would then have had to fear for permanent hearing damage to his child. Not that he could blame B'Elanna for her reaction. It had taken him some time to walk dazed to his quarters and collapse on the floor in front of his couch. And then to get himself to a point where he could muster the strength to place the horrible call.

I've entered into the ship's log on this date that I'm granting a field commission of lieutenant to Thomas Eugene Paris. Congratulations. You've earned this, Tom.

Tom looked at his palm and thought he could almost feel the soft, warm weight of her delicately boned hand in his again. He remembered how she had smiled at him then. It was a small pull to her lips that grew until it was the brightest smile he had ever received and he, Tom Paris, rogue, had been completely and utterly humbled by it. He hadn't known then what it had fully meant; it had been her putting her trust, her faith in him because she had truly believed him to be a capable officer, a convict that could be completely redeemed. Even if he had doubts, she didn't because that was who she was. How many chances had she given him? Two, three…

When he had been demoted to Ensign after the whole Monean incident and she had looked at him with such a look of disappointment it had torn him apart to bear witness to it, but he had disobeyed her orders for virtuous reasons, ones he had hoped she could respect if not agree with. But even with the thirty days of imprisonment, he had never worried that she would turn her back on him. He had just known he would have to work that much harder to convince her that her trust in him hadn't been misplaced. And when he had come to his bridge shift and seen the small wooden box on his chair he had felt successful and the feeling of her gently replacing the small black pip had filled him with the same pride and humility it had when she had first given him the field commission in her ready room all those years ago.

What would she be doing now? Tom let out a long suffering sigh filled with self-contempt. Not moping around her quarters. She would be bringing everyone together. Cheering them up with her smiles and her wry sense of humor.

With renewed strength and a sense of purpose, Tom rose from the chair to cross the room to the replicator. "Locke's Single Malt."

"What is it?"

"Just take it all right?" Tom thrust the small glass filled with amber colored liquid into his friend's hesitant hand.

Tom wondered if his former Captain would have reprimanded them severely for drinking while they were still technically on duty, despite the fact that operations were stalled for the next half an hour by the Utopia Planitia Fleet Yard's personnel. Or perhaps, he thought with a bright grin, she would have pulled up a chair and downed the drink without a second thought. That's what had always intrigued him about her. She was refined, elegant, and almost regal but then she would surprise him by being a pool shark, or getting tipsy at one of Neelix's numerous parties, or by knocking an unfortunate alien on his ass when he had made an off color comment and proceeded to try to initiate a more physical first contact with her.

Seated with Tom at the table in the holographically created Sandrine's were Captain Janeway's senior staff, or at least the ones that still served on board Voyager. The only addition was their CMO, Jarem Kaz who, like Barclay, had become an honorary member of the family.

Tom passed the bottle to his present Captain. Chakotay had spent most of the morning in his ready room. Doing what, Tom didn't feel the need to speculate. It had been obvious for several years how much Chakotay loved Kathryn Janeway, was in love with her. He couldn't imagine the hell Chakotay was going through.

Chakotay poured himself a drink before he handed it to Seven, whom he had apologized to directly after leaving his ready room. She had merely told him that "no permanent damage had been done" but he had known that had been her way to offer forgiveness.

"Alcohol impairs my neural processers." Seven looked uneasily at the bottle before she passed it on to Jarem Kaz.

"That's the point, Seven." He took the bottle and filled his glass and Seven's.

Chakotay stood then and the others quickly followed suit. He held up the small glass with a bittersweet grin. "To the finest woman I've ever known. Not to mention the bravest, most compassionate, strongest and definitely the most stubborn. To Kathryn Janeway."

"To Kathryn Janeway!" Her former crew exalted her name in unison and without hesitation on anyone's part the Irish whiskey left their glasses in a flourish of movement.

Tom patted his friend's back as Harry coughed powerfully from the burning that had transverse his throat and now rested hotly in his stomach.

Kids these days, Tom thought with a grin.

"I think she would have liked this." All eyes were on Chakotay as he spoke with a mixture of sorrow and approval. "I don't think she would have wanted us to be sitting around mourning. She'd want to be celebrated. Well, no that's not right, she would have felt uneasy, humbled, but, she'd want us… not to grieve for her."

"Yeah, that's about right." Tom could picture the kind blue eyes of Kathryn Janeway and could almost hear her husky voice filled with a bit of humor and humility. Buck up now, moping about won't do anyone any good. Remember the good times. They're what's important now.

"Do you remember our last day at the Markonian outpost?" Tom's smile grew enormously bright as a few heads nodded and smiles formed. Jarem Kaz, for his part just basked in the lightness after the dark. Tom turned his bright eyes towards Jarem as he explained the set up. "Harry and I got into… a bit of a misunderstanding with some of the locals on this huge space station."

"I believe the correct term is 'street brawl'." Those who didn't know Seven well would have thought her comment flat, but they could detect the humor behind her even words.

"Yeah, well, anyway, it got sort of out of hand—" Tom pressed forward as he remembered the reprimand that Harry and he had received. Again her voice echoed in his mind. Well, did you win? Good.

"We were arrested." Harry sounded sheepish as Jarem Kaz let out a surprised laugh. Who would have thought, straight-laced Harry Kim, arrested? Then the doctor turned his attention back to their First Officer and knew exactly the reasons behind Harry's arrest.

"Beside the point. So, Harry, me, and the Captain, we all went down to the bar where the owner was insisting on reimbursement for what amounted to a bunch of broken glasses." Tom shrugged, seemingly unrepentant of the damage he had been responsible for.

"Three tables and a few bar stools." Harry's voice was again the leveling agent.

"Yeah, anyway, she came down to, you know, make reparations for us I guess." Tom's voice was getting more jubilant as he pulled nearer to the punch line. "Well this Morphinian bar owner, all green scales and fishy smell, had a, well proposition for how she could… er—pay him. His attempt at first contact though was met with a mean punch that laid the guy out flat."

"She punched him!" The disbelief was clear in Jarem's voice, though he had let out another bark of surprised laughter.

"Knocked him clear on his ass." Tom recalled how he had watched with wonder as the big lizard had landed hard on the barroom floor before he or Harry could "protect" their Captain's virtue. The look that had been on his Captain's face then had been so smug and self-assured that he was sure if the police had been around they would have thought twice about arresting her. "Hey, you can't blame her, that guy's tail was overly friendly, you know."

"Kathryn Janeway involved in a bar brawl, I have to say I'm not as shocked as I think I should be." Yes, Jarem could see the fiery woman making her disinterest clear with a knock to the head.

"Normally, I do not believe that she would use violence as a primary means to end a disagreement." Seven had to admit she approved of the efficient discouragement the strike would have provided. "However, I believe she stated that 'the guy had it coming'."

Seven had been curious as to the altercation and she recalled how Captain Janeway had mumbled something about the Morphinian being as bad as that "damned plant". Seven still didn't understand what that had meant.

"No doubt he did." Jarem nodded in hearty agreement.

"You should have seen the look on Harry's face though!" Tom clapped a hand against the back of the man in question. "I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head."

"I just didn't expect it that's all!" Harry's voice became high-pitched as he indeed recalled his flabbergasted reaction to seeing his Captain, his role model, and if truth be told, his mother figure knocking a guy out who outweighed her by about two hundred pounds and was about seven feet tall. "I don't think you reacted any better."

"Whatever. You know when I asked her about it all she said was 'Mr. Paris'." Tom's voice got decidedly lower and more commanding invoking the same tones as Kathryn Janeway. "'Sometimes even my diplomacy runs out'."

The impression had been reminiscent enough of the woman if not entirely accurate that warm chuckles had followed it.

"I remember the first time I looked at her as this… amazing human being rather than the larger than life Captain." Harry's voice grew soft and pensive, a smile played on his lips. "We were on an away mission and found all these bushes of over-ripe fruit. After eating Leola root stew for the last week I gorged myself on them. I must have eaten half a kilo. I was embarrassed by the way my hands and mouth were all purple, but then the Captain, the Captain came and she sat down next to me, and I had to smile because her mouth and hands were all stained too. Then she put her arm around my shoulder and she said… she said 'Ensign, these are the times we have to remember'. She's, she was… I'm sorry."

The tears had come unexpectedly to Harry's eyes but he felt comforted not embarrassed by the reassuring hand on his shoulder. He could see similar moisture in Tom's eyes.

"I wish I had known her better." Jarem Kaz had felt out of place when Tom and Harry had approached him after the service in the Mess Hall about sending the Admiral off in true Irish style until they had convinced him with a few simple words, you're part of the family whether you like it or not, Doc. "I know the journey through the Delta Quadrant was unbelievably difficult, but a part of me wished I had been there. It was a remarkable thing you people did, what she did."

Jarem thought he had seen a hint of who the Admiral had been as a Captain when the two of them had met up at a little coffee shop in Santa Barbara and conspired to help save the world as they knew it. It now seemed like forever ago. He had seen the fiery determination he had heard second hand about first when she had confronted him in his sickbay. And then when he had contacted her to initiate their plan. Even with her shoulder length auburn hair disarrayed from sleep and a silky pink robe visible she might as well have been garbed in her Admiral's uniform for all the power she had projected through that small monitor. He knew then that she would have done anything, and did do some pretty audacious things, in order to save the crew that had become her family. Like a mother hen tending her chicks. Or a wolf mother.

Chakotay, who had remained silent during the story telling now added his gentle tones. "I wonder if she knew how much she impacted all of us. How she saved many of us. We were taken into the Delta Quadrant against our will but I can't imagine what would have happened to us if we hadn't been. A lot of us would probably be either dead or in prison. We owe her our lives. I don't know if she ever knew. I don't know if anyone ever told her how our lives were better for knowing her. How those seven years made us who we are because of the journey and the unifying mission to get home. How we trusted her completely, followed her unquestionably because we knew she never stopped believing we'd get home. That she'd find a way. And… she completed her mission."

The small glass cylinders were once again filled with amber liquid and they stood to honor their former Captain once more.

"Here's to Captain Janeway." Chakotay's voice was sure and strong as he held his glass up.

"To Captain Janeway!" The chorus was loud as they gave adulation to the name.

"Lieutenant Ayala to the Captain."

Chakotay cleared the melancholy away as he answered with a sure, even tone. "Go ahead."

"We've been cleared for departure."

The somberness in the room mixed with the remembrance of one woman as Chakotay spoke words that meant more than just an order.

"Set a course, for home."