CHAPTER TWELVE
Back in San Francisco, Kathryn returned to her typical routine of meeting with Cadet Stevenson, though she began taking on a few more lectures here and there, somehow needing to keep busy since her time on the Cape. When she wasn't at Starfleet Headquarters, she spent as much time as she could down at the local pub, people watching and having dinner with almost anyone who extended an invitation. Suddenly, the silence and stillness of being at home were too much, or perhaps too little, to keep her mind from drifting back to those three days, particularly the last hour she and Seven spent together at the beach house.
"But you're doing alright?" Kathryn asked Joe pressingly as she watched him on her comm screen. They kept their promise to meet weekly in the two months since she'd returned from Chatham.
"Yes," he sighed. "There's never a dull moment. No doubt you and Seven spread the word for people to keep me busy."
"That's all you, Doctor," Kathryn shook her head. "You've always been popular. Why would things be different now?"
Joe took a deep breath. He still looked quite heartbroken, though she knew getting out with colleagues and visiting friends was the best thing for him.
"I suppose you're right," he rolled his eyes. "That said, I have a meeting with Dr. Helsnik in a few minutes."
"Give him my regards," she smiled.
"I shall," Joe nodded. "See you next week."
Later that evening, Lira met with the Admiral to go over the usual slew of invitations and requests.
"No more forums on Bolean digestive remedies, please," Kathryn sighed. "I'll compromise with the panel on Katarian endocrinology. At least Samantha and Naomi will be there."
"Very well," Lira smiled, typing away at the pad in hand.
"If that's all, you can head out early," Kathryn offered.
"Actually... there is one more," the Cadet swallowed. "From S. Hansen."
Kathryn froze. She tried not to move a muscle in her face, though she couldn't stop the sting creeping into her cheeks.
"I see," she breathed. "Did you…"
"Only the first few lines," Lira told her.
The young woman handed over the pad to the Admiral.
"Ah," Kathryn smiled awkwardly. "Thank you."
Lira nodded. She continued to stare at the Admiral, awaiting further instructions as Kathryn looked down at the pad, placing it on the desk in front of her, watching it as if it were about to sprout legs and walk away.
"Is there anything else you want me to…"
"No, that's fine," Kathryn straightened her shoulders. "You're dismissed."
Lira smiled, though she was clearly disappointed she wouldn't get to hear more about the contents of the letter.
Once she was gone, Kathryn took a deep breath. Lira was more than just your average Cadet. She'd made it clear in her resume that she was a "fan" of the Admiral. Sometimes, Kathryn felt like a let down considering she hadn't been very active for the first few months they'd been working together, but thankfully she'd been inspired as of late to do more.
Therefore, it wasn't entirely shocking that the young Cadet's ears would perk up at the letter from Seven, since she knew the two hadn't been on speaking terms for years prior to the conference. Kathryn hadn't told her, nor anyone, why she'd extended her stay in Boston, hadn't even mentioned she'd been on the Cape.
Kathryn truly wasn't expecting to hear from Seven. Although they'd grown closer in the few days they'd spent together and had talked about keeping in touch, she knew both their schedules were inundated. That said, she felt her stomach clench as soon as Lira read the blonde's name, and for some reason, felt a little uncomfortable. She believed she could trust Lira to be discreet due to their confidentiality agreement, but part of her wondered whether or not she should have said something.
Then again, she thought, why make a bigger deal out of it than necessary? What was there to tell?
That she and Seven had finally made up after twenty years of not speaking?
That she'd admitted the only reason her future self went back in time was to save her?
That every moment they'd spent together in Chatham was more exciting than the past two decades combined?
She quickly pressed a few keys and opened the letter.
Dear Kathryn,
I am certain you have settled back into your post-retirement duties with Starfleet, as I have resumed work with the Center for Advanced Nanotechnology. I told you I would check my schedule with regards to visiting Indiana this winter. Unfortunately, it does not appear there will be sufficient time. Thank you, once again, for the invitation.
I felt compelled to write this letter, inspired by the Doctor's approach to sharing his feelings prior to his attempt to end his life. While it did prove to be emotionally draining, I believe his intention was admirable. I have since questioned why one must wait until the end of one's life to tell others how much they mean to them, and decided it would be better to share my thoughts now, before another twenty years have passed.
During my first few months on Voyager, I resented being severed from the Collective. I was scared, unsure if I would ever be able to regain my humanity. However, as uncertain as I felt, I knew, somewhere within me, that I was never truly alone. For the first time in my life, I felt wanted in a way that far surpassed the Collective's desire to retain me. You helped me to believe I was meant for more, that I was unique. Along with the Doctor, I credit you with giving me the chance I wish I could now bestow on the millions of individuals I helped assimilate. I know that I have thanked you in the past, but feel that once again I must reiterate my gratitude.
As for our dispute prior to disembarking, I have already apologized for the manner in which I spoke. I believe my emotional state was heightened due to several factors. As I became interested in engaging in romance, I did not have the proper support to guide me through the sensations I experienced. Due to the Doctor's admitted interest, I became uncomfortable discussing it with him. At the same time, while I have always respected your role as Captain, you were also my only close female companion. The moments we spent together, whether in Maestro Da Vinci's workshop, playing Velocity, or simply conversing late at night in your quarters, meant more to me than I was able to adequately express. You were an excellent mentor, a role model for the strength, resiliency and diplomacy I wished to cultivate, and beyond that, an exceptional friend. That is why it was so distressing when you became distant. Perhaps my expectations lead to misperception and disappointment. However, I do not believe I mistook the level of our connection.
That said, I have certainly accepted your apology with the understanding that you believed giving me space was important for my development. I appreciate that you had my best interests at heart, but must admit, I did not ever feel I needed space from you.
Chakotay and I were together for fifteen years. I cannot deny the affection I felt towards him. However, I believe it was my desire to "fit in," to develop into what I thought was a sufficient woman based on the Doctor's social lessons, that led me to seek him out. Although you have said I could do better, I could not foresee an alternative at the time. The prospect of being alone on Earth, without my Voyager family, made me feel as if it was the best choice I could may be why I became angry when you appeared to judge me, and perhaps the fear of having made the wrong decision is what kept me from contacting you in the years that followed.
I have learned that regret is a pointless emotion. Therefore, I simply wish that moving forward, you and I will continue to reconnect. Your warmth and generosity in Chatham quickly dispelled my remaining reservations, and your admission that you, as the Admiral, risked everything to save me means more than I am, as of yet, able to articulate. Thankfully, we are not at the end of our lives, and I hope that in time we will continue to share our true emotions with one another.
Please do not feel you must reciprocate. However, I would certainly appreciate your response.
All my best,
Seven
Kathryn took a long sip of her coffee and swallowed, feeling a bit dizzy. She read back over several parts of the letter, her pulse quickening with every word.
"Perhaps my expectations lead to misperception and disappointment. However, I do not believe I mistook the level of our connection."
What expectations? She thought.
Her heart sank into her stomach as she realized just how much she had underestimated Seven's attachment. Beyond the ex-drone's icy exterior, there had been many more layers of humanity surfacing, sometimes painfully, in ways the blonde clearly hadn't been able to express. Kathryn felt their connection was incredibly deep and certainly important, moreso than it should have been considering she was her subordinate. She risked her entire crew to save the woman's life, a point that had been particularly difficult to explain during the debriefing, and which thankfully, had been sealed from public record by fact that on Seven's end the stakes had been just as high was no less than a revelation.
Then again, there had been plenty of incidents where Seven also risked her life to save the Voyager crew. In particular, Kathryn recalled their attempt to retrieve the transwarp coil from a Borg cube, how Seven had given in to the Queen's demand for her to return to the Collective in exchange for allowing Janeway and the others to go free. Again, Janeway had gone after her, refusing to let go, though looking back, the risk had been equally grave on Seven's part. Suddenly, every tense and terrifying moment of the ordeal felt so much more personal.
"I did not ever feel I needed space from you."
Christ, she thought.
Regret may be irrelevant, but there was a whole hell of a lot of distance left to amend.
Feeling like she needed to get her thoughts out immediately, Kathryn grabbed the keyboard she kept at her desk and began typing, preferring the written word over dictation.
Dear Seven,
Thank you for your beautifully honest and heartfelt letter. I continue to be struck by just how poignant you've become when sharing your emotions. I hope that doesn't sound patronizing. Given that I've missed the past two decades of your social development, I'm afraid I can only now marvel at the incredible progress you've made, and am indeed thankful for the chance to finally see it.
Helping you break away from the Borg and regain your humanity was one of the most thrilling and deeply rewarding experiences of my life. Despite the challenges and your initial reluctance, I knew that you would be alright. Better than alright, you have become a success in every area you have set about to conquer, your achievements, both personal and professional, no less than astonishing. You must know how proud of you I have always been, regardless of our differences. The Doctor and I may have assisted you in beginning the journey, but you alone are responsible for the woman you've become.
I appreciate your apologies regarding our dispute and am thankful you were willing to accept mine. In light of the personal context you've shared, I believe I'm beginning to understand where our communication faltered. I am sorry I couldn't always be the support you needed. There were many times I wish I could have done more, said more, but felt inhibited as Captain. I did not, for instance, feel I could share my own trepidation about re-entering life on Earth, nor the fact that I was going to miss our Voyager family as well. But most of all, I wasn't able to tell you just how much you meant to me, that I found the time we spent together equally fulfilling, that the thought of losing you during those last few days in the Delta Quadrant nearly destroyed me, and certainly dispelled any hesitation I felt about following the Admiral's orders. I'd been able to convince myself until now that we simply grew apart, that our differences were too much to overcome. Thank you for helping me remember the truth.
There is much more I could say, however, given that my assistant has been charged with screening my incoming correspondence, perhaps it would be best to find another means of communication. If you are willing to speak via comm signal, face to face, I would very much like to see you again.
All my best,
Kathryn
Before she could chicken out, she hit send. Immediately, her stomach began doing flip flops, wondering if Seven would pick apart her words just as she had done. They both seemed very adept-Seven surprisingly so-at keeping things between the lines.
Kathryn practically jumped out of her seat when she heard the console on her desk begin to beep minutes later. She quickly checked her appearance in the window behind her, smoothing down her hair, before straightening her shoulders and pressing the button on the screen.
Seven appeared to be sitting at a desk in her own home, though the lighting was so dim Kathryn could hardly make out much beyond the outline of the blonde, hair hanging loose against shoulders barely covered by the black silk nightgown she wore. Janeway noted how thin the straps were, taut against Seven's skin as they appeared to hold the rest of her in place.
"You don't waste any time, I see," she tried to speak steadily.
"I apologize for contacting you this late," Seven swallowed. "I was unaware you had someone screening your communications."
"It's alright," Kathryn assured her. "Though I'm not sure Lira will be able to survive not having read your entire letter."
"Lira?" Seven questioned. "Your assistant?"
"Yes," Kathryn nodded. "I'm afraid she's terribly enthralled with anything Voyager-related. She's a lovely girl, but she's had to work hard at keeping her enthusiasm at bay."
Seven's cheeks became red as she took a deep breath through her nose and pushed some of her blonde locks behind her ear, revealing more skin.
"Perhaps she is less 'enthralled' with Voyager and more beguiled by your personal affairs."
Janeway gaped at the response, trying not to bite her tongue.
"She's twenty four years old," Kathryn shook her head. "I doubt she's interested in my personal affairs. Besides, what's there to tell?"
"Perhaps nothing," Seven noted. "You yourself admitted it has been 'a long time.'"
Kathryn began to blush. Hard. She was suddenly very glad to be seated.
"For someone who can't hold their liquor, you seem to remember quite a bit."
Seven swallowed.
"You have not engaged in a romantic encounter with anyone since our departure from Voyager," she stated matter-of-factly. "Is that correct?"
The Admiral continued to feel like she'd stumbled into some reality-altering wormhole.
"Yes," she answered plainly.
"Why?"
Kathryn licked her lips, her throat beginning to feel dry.
"Haven't found the right person, I suppose."
Seven's smile was subtle but undeniable. Kathryn's cheeks continued to burn.
"I doubt you called for this," she tried to change the subject. "What's on your mind?"
The blonde shrugged.
"I had no particular intention," Seven admitted. "Besides apologizing for not considering a written communication of such a personal nature may not be wise."
"Thank you again for the letter," she breathed. "I can't tell you how much it means."
"Yours was duly appreciated," Seven nodded. "However, you indicated there was more you wished to say."
Kathryn swallowed, clearing her throat.
"I'm... not sure I can say now...with certainty...exactly what I intended."
Seven rolled her eyes.
"You've become fond of forgetting details."
"Must be my age," Kathryn joked.
"That is what I believe Lieutenant Torres would call 'bullshit.'"
The Admiral's jaw dropped slightly.
"I beg your pardon?"
Seven's eyes continued to sparkle.
"Your age has not affected your ability to perform strenuous tasks, nor to recall numerous stories from our time aboard Voyager," she reminded. "You have also remained exceedingly attractive given you are approaching your mid-sixties."
Kathryn's mouth continued to hang open, feeling as though she was about to ignite.
"Seven, that's...what does that have to do with..."
"Do not attempt to use your age as an excuse for selective memory," the blonde continued.
Kathryn took a deep breath, doing her best to maintain her composure.
"Alright," she breathed. "What would you like me to say?"
Seven glared playfully, though Kathryn knew she was quite serious.
"What you have been unwilling to say thus far."
Now it was Kathryn's turn to raise an eyebrow, anything to slow down the conversation, over which she had completely lost control.
"I'm not the only one who's been holding back," she insisted. "You said in your letter you weren't yet able to articulate everything you wanted to say to me either."
Seven's face glowed red.
"Very well," she sighed. "I simply wished to tell you that what you admitted at the beach house was the most reckless, selfish, beautifully romantic act anyone has ever performed for me, and I doubt it will be topped by anyone else in my lifetime."
Kathryn's eyes watered as she watched the woman before her struggle to make eye contact, far from shy, but still hesitant.
"You risked everything to save me," Seven continued. "Your reputation with Starfleet, the lives of every other member of the crew, including your own, completely disregarding the temporal prime..."
"The temporal prime directive meant nothing," Kathryn whispered. "All that mattered...was you."
Seven froze, save for the soft rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed heavily.
"Was that really so difficult?" she smirked.
Kathryn swallowed, easing a bit as she smiled back at the blonde.
"I think you underestimate just how intimidating you can be," she breathed.
"Intimidating?" Seven questioned. "You, a Starfleet Admiral, after all these years, find…"
"Yes," Kathryn answered. "Especially when you're wearing that."
Seven swallowed.
She looked down at the negligee and appeared to contemplate it for several seconds before returning her gaze to the screen.
"You are intimidated by my sexuality," she offered.
"Not just your sexuality," Kathryn breathed. "Your genius, your valor. The ability you have to cut through the 'bullshit,' as you put it."
Seven continued to move her lips.
"That is...surprising."
"Surprising?" Kathryn snorted. "Imagine, if you will, you're the Captain of a stranded starship, charged with the seemingly impossible task of caring for the wellbeing of a hundred plus individuals while trying against all odds to get them home, when out of completely desperate circumstances, in walks the most infuriatingly brilliant, mesmerizingly gorgeous woman you've ever encountered. She needs you, even if she won't admit it, so you give her every benefit of the doubt, and you're thankful you did because she turns out to be even more amazing than you could have imagined. Slowly, she surpasses the need to be mentored, but becomes more than just another member of the crew. Someone you know you can trust. Someone who, despite her rationality, seems to believe in the story you continue to tell about making it back to Earth. You feel like you've gained her respect, and what's more, her friendship, when suddenly...you realize that may not be enough. You crave her presence, her voice, any chance you're lucky enough to spend a moment alone with her, and you know, deep down, that she's stirred something you've managed to deny within yourself all these years, and you'd give anything, anything, for just one second, to not be Captan, to just be two women who happened to find each other when they needed it most."
Seven's eyes glistened. She bit the inside of her lip and took a deep breath.
"You have no idea how much I've needed to say those things," Kathryn swallowed. "And how sorry I am to have wasted all this time not saying them."
Seven brushed her hair behind her ear once again, bringing her eyes to meet the Admiral's.
"There is no need for further apologies," the blonde sniffed. "We cannot change the past."
The Admiral nodded as they stared at each other for several seconds in silence.
"I wish to be in your presence," Seven finally breathed. "I have craved it as well."
Kathryn felt herself clench in ways she hadn't in years.
"Really," she whispered back, practically speechless.
"When we were in Chatham," Seven continued. "After you helped me recover from the incident on the beach, I felt...an urgency...to be near you. However, I could not act without clear evidence you felt the same way."
Kathryn leaned on her elbows, closer to the screen.
"I hope I've been able to provide all the evidence you need."
Seven swallowed.
"On Voyager...when I began to suspect an attraction, I was less able to decipher signals. Your facial expressions...the way you scanned my body...I had not witnessed those characteristics in other females."
Kathryn sighed.
"Was I really that transparent?"
"Yes," Seven smirked. "Now that I am aware of the intricacies of same-sex flirtation, as well as the full extent of your actions, I believe you have indeed always been 'transparent.' It was simply Starfleet protocol that kept you from acting upon your desire."
Kathryn was beginning to sweat.
"Maybe you're right," she swallowed. "Though... there may have been something about...'not being able to act'... that fueled the attraction in the first place. As an explorer, I've always been... enticed... by the things I'm forbidden to touch."
She dug her nails into her thighs, shocked at her own boldness.
Seven continued to hold her gaze steadily.
"Perhaps it would be best to test that hypothesis," she breathed. "Ensure that you are still…attracted...now that you are, in fact, able to have me."
"God, yes," Kathryn sighed, finally letting go. "More than ever."
Seven glared devilishly.
Before the Admiral could fully comprehend what was happening, the blonde began sliding the straps of her nightgown down her arms.
"We can't do this," Kathryn breathed, practically hyperventilating as she shook her head. "Not here. It pains me to stop you, but there are ways people could track even these communications."
Seven turned beet red as she moved the straps back up her arms.
"Logic appears to be increasingly difficult to maintain in your presence," she sighed.
"I don't think that's a bad thing," Kathryn smiled. "We just need to be careful."
"Understood," Seven swallowed.
"There must be a time we can see each other," Kathryn insisted. "I'll check my schedule."
"Likewise," the blonde spoke firmly. "I cannot wait for Boston."
"Nor can I," Kathryn smirked.
Seven continued to adjust herself.
"Very well," the blonde strained to return to her usual level of stoicism. "I should go."
Kathryn pinched her leg as hard as she could to make sure she was not in fact dreaming.
"Alright," she breathed. "We'll be in touch."
"Yes," Seven smiled softly. "Goodnight."
Kathryn exhaled, sighing audibly once she was alone.
She shook her head before spinning back around to the window behind her desk, watching the shuttles take off from Starfleet, every cell of her body singing with electricity.
Remembering the sound of Seven's voice, she closed her eyes again as she leaned back in her chair, still trying to wake herself from the dream, thanking everything she knew to be sacred.
