=A=


"The only answer I seek is an honest one. Do you reciprocate?"

Seven's slacks flapped in the windy weather of San Francisco, considerably warmer than the iciness of Chicago quite a few hours prior. As per her habit, she sat on the same bench she always sat at, facing the same direction she always faced, with her eyes on the same door she watched every day.

Cadets passed her without incident, as accustomed to her presence as they were to the flowers adorning the paths and the works of sculpture in the park. Occasionally they would approach her with questions—but her cool demeanor immediately discouraged anything other than purely academic questions. She was not keen to speak of her personal life, nor was she interested in small talk. In fact, she frequently carried a PADD to keep herself occupied and thus avoid dealing with inanities.

With a straight back and impeccable posture, Seven reopened the novel she had been reading over the past week. The sound of boots clacking faded as she began to read, her mind adjusting, and finally the words pulled her in. She easily committed herself to the reality of someone else, emotions that did not belong to her, and a place that offered an escape from her own existence.

It was 20 minutes later when she remembered the time, and lifted her eyes to study the doorway across the grounds. It didn't budge. Seven waited patiently.

Suddenly, it slid open to reveal the reason she loitered here each day. Admiral Janeway rapidly cut across Academy grounds, strolling with a purpose.

Seven, struck, admired her. The older woman's gait, poise, and steely expression were unmistakable. Even from this distance, it was impossible to miss the power radiating from a woman who could take on the universe without batting an eyelash. She was someone you simply noticed.

As she watched, Janeway's head turned to acknowledge a professor crossing her path—and rotated just far enough to catch Seven in her line of sight, far across the way.

The ex-Borg's dehydrated heart split open painfully as they locked eyes. In her weeks of coming here, perching inconspicuously on her far-off bench, this had never occurred. Now that it had, caught by surprise—caught looking—she was too shocked to take her eyes from the former captain.

In the distance Janeway faltered on her route, unsure, and then changed direction.

The PADD sank slowly to her lap as the Admiral steadily approached, the novel wholly forgotten. Seconds passed like melting glaciers. Seven desperately fought the urge to get up, to get away from what was about to happen. Instead, she forced a smile.

"Seven," Janeway flashed a wide, surprised grin as she walked up to the bench. "It's been too long."

"Indeed," she agreed, a flat note creeping into the word.

If Janeway noticed, she didn't let on. The warmth and concern in her eyes were genuine. Seven wished it wasn't.

"How have you been? We all thought you'd disappeared somewhere for a while, and then I recently heard that you were enrolled here," Janeway chattered. Seven didn't want to discuss any of those topics, and was relieved when Janeway continued with something that was easier to corral.

"I can't imagine the Academy is keeping you very busy."

Her face carefully impassive, Seven deflected the flattery. "Academy classes are challenging on occasion. I have learned a number of things already." She glanced down at Janeway's uniform, pointedly noting the rank change. "How are you finding the admiralty?"

The Admiral chuckled. "It's less stressful than captaining Voyager," she lightly remarked. "Less personal concerns, more official business. Could be worse."

Seven smiled politely. The younger woman was quite content to let there be an awkward pause if it meant that Janeway would be leaving as soon as possible. Her discomfort was nearly invisible, but she could feel her insides melting under the heat of past memory.

Nevertheless, her poker face was exceptional. It was studied, practiced, and implemented continuously during her last year aboard Voyager. Maintaining her professional composure with Captain Janeway had become almost automatic. Necessary. To preserve their working relationship and her own pride and dignity, there was no other choice but to deny that anything was ever said, and studiously ignore the steaming cauldron.

The problem was that the cauldron exploded as soon as the forces keeping it at bay—Janeway's proximity, professional needs—vanished. Seven was still dodging that shrapnel.

"Well," Janeway filled, when it was clear that Seven wasn't going to speak, "we should catch up soon, I'd like to hear what you've been up to. We were all worried about your disappearance." The undertone in her voice made it clear that the Admiral had been concerned, didn't quite enjoy being left in the dark, and would extract an explanation sooner or later despite Seven's deflections. It was her way with the people she cared about.

"I'll leave you to your reading."

"Thank you. Good day, Admiral," Seven replied, injecting a warmth into her voice that she didn't feel. She clutched at the PADD absently as her knuckles subtly turned white. The older woman paused for the smallest moment, causing Seven to wonder. Was she aware of the game Seven was playing and the act she was engaged in, or was Seven imagining things, projecting her own feelings onto Janeway?

Or was the Admiral's poker face as equally impenetrable as her own?

She knew Janeway well enough to know the answer to that question.

"I'm sure I'll see you around," The Admiral finished, leaving Seven with her confusion. She turned away as if the world hadn't just ended, and was quietly on her way.

Seven refused to watch her and instead forced her eyes to make contact with the unfeeling device in her hand. She thought about breaking it—about smashing it into the ground until the circuits were far beyond repair—and by some unknown miracle managed to refrain from doing so. She could only sit and regard it with contempt as her energy rapidly evaporated.

The Doctor's bestselling words, his first novel, were no longer adequate as an escape.