Tom wasn't surprised to see that Kathryn lived near Bogdea Bay; she'd mentioned wanting to be away from 'Fleet's overwhelming presence in San Francisco. Easy enough to do, he decided, when you have a personal transporter pad or have a car on call.

The house, all three stories, fit well into the hillside. It was stone and wood, with an expanse of glass that provided an unobstructed view of the ocean. Inside, it was comfortable, with wood and light colors, but still had a touch of formality – much like Kathryn herself.

"I'm sorry Miral can't join us," she said after greeting him with a hug.

"Yeah, I mentioned our dinner to Mom, and she immediately offered to keep Miral overnight. Said I could use some adult conversation." Kathryn raised an eyebrow but didn't reply.

"Anyway, I brought the wine," he said, offering the bottle, which she took with a grin.

"You're doing this more for you than me, you know. I enjoy wine, but I really can't tell what makes a higher-rated wine better than a lower-rated one."

"Too much coffee," he quipped. "It's murdered your taste buds."

Dinner was fun. They talked about the crew, and she talked about her projects and family. He talked about Miral and his struggle to choose a final project for his certificate. She didn't ask about the divorce, and he didn't offer.

Afterward, he helped her clean up, figuring they'd retire to the living room. Instead, she produced a bottle of Irish whiskey and two glasses. "Come upstairs, and I'll show you my favorite room," she offered.

At the top of the stairs, she pointed to the left. "Guest rooms. I've invited Mom to come out for visits. Can't convince her that it's at least 20 degrees warmer or cooler than Indiana, depending on the season."

They walked to the end of the hall into what had to be her study. It was wood-paneled on three sides and furnished with an antique desk and a large cabinet that likely held her work console.

Another door, partially open, offered a view of a large bedroom. She didn't comment, just opened the door to the balcony and waved him outside.

It was like being immersed into space: All he could see was inky blackness merging the sky and water, punctuated by the stars and lights from the occasional shuttle.

He understood: It was a view she would have had from a starship port — or a captain's quarters.

"So," he said after taking his first sip of whiskey, "How is it that I'm the first dinner guest? Not the Enfrosian ambassador, or is that over?"

She shook her head. "Ra-Daeil and I are lunch friends these days. It's easier this way. He's wonderful for my ego, but his people don't do monogamy, and they consider it rude not to flirt with others."

He nodded, then asked softly, "You hear from David?"

David — the one who could have been. He was an astrophysicist, a researcher for Daystrom. They'd met at a reception, slipped to a nearby cafe, and talked until they closed the place down.

He was funny, interested in the scientific side of Voyager's discoveries, and good-looking — damn good-looking. It wasn't long before she was making up for nearly seven years of near-celibacy.

It might have worked. Hell, it could have worked. But the timing was awful: He was leaving for a three-year research project in the Beta Quadrant. There wasn't enough between them to commit, and she wanted more than subspace chats.

"No," she admitted. She reached over and grabbed the bottle. "Enough of my lack of love life," she said as she stood up. Come downstairs and see my second-favorite room."

She led him down to the bottom floor, into a nice-size rec room. "Built-in holoprojectors," he said wistfully as he gazed at the ceiling.

"Yes, but look behind you," she teased. He turned to see a top-of-the-line pool table, all gleaming wood and pristine cloth.

"Oh, that is beautiful," he sighed.

"Been waiting for the right person to help me break it in," she said, waving him toward the cues. "Eight Ball?"

They played a half-dozen games, and Kathryn beat him four out of six. But she was a joy to watch; he found himself studying her — how she moved, her expression as she studied the table.

And slowly, but surely, an idea began to form …