*trigger warning for depictions of violence

The heat of an Indiana summer greeted them as they walked through the doors of the holodeck later that afternoon. Kathryn's mood had mellowed. Maybe it had been the sex or his apology, or the smell of corn now wafting through the air, but the comfort of a familiar place gave her the feeling of being on solid ground for once in her new relationship.

They walked to a series of tennis courts that extended across a long field, bordered by rows of peak-season corn on one side, and on the other by the athletic fields of a school campus.

"Where are we?" Justin asked.

"The Meadows School in Lafayette, Indiana. This was where I learned to play. I went to middle school here." At this he tilted his head in interest and looked around, his eyes taking in the antiquated, sand-hued stone buildings and fields that extended out into the distance. A mystified expression crossed his face.

Kathryn opened the gate of the nearest court for him. He paused, reaching up and touching chain-link fence that surrounded the area. It took her a moment to realize why he was so captivated. The expression on his face was one she'd seen countless times on the faces of visitors to their school.

"It's a fence," she explained.

"I know what a fence is," he said, his voice carrying no hint of anger, only curiosity. The intrigued look on his face matched the tone of his words as he continued, "But I didn't expect you would."

With an extended hand, she gestured for him to enter the court. "I went to a traditionalist school. There were no forcefields. Or any advanced technology, actually."

He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"What?" she asked as she set up the hopper.

He seemed hesitant to respond. "That's not what I expected from you."

It wasn't hard to tell what he was hinting at and she gave him a gentle, compassionate smile as she pulled her racquet out of its case. "You mean, where's the gleaming, state-of-the art, elite Starfleet prep school that my Daddy the Admiral had to pull strings to get me into?" Kathryn knew she'd hit home when stunned silence was his only response. "You yourself said I was spoiled," she added.

This earned her a reluctant smile and a nod. "I said I thought you would be," he corrected. "Not that you were."

She shook her head. "No, you were right. I am spoiled. And the elite prep school was later, though Dad wasn't around to pull strings even if he'd wanted to. I resented this," she said, gesturing around her with her index finger, "but I have to give my parents credit for trying to keep me grounded." She frowned. "In many cases, literally grounded. No advanced tech meant no shuttlepods, no off-world trips."

At his furrowed brow she knew he'd become curious about something she said. "Your dad wasn't around?"

She had to admit that the question he'd asked wasn't what she'd expected him to latch on to. A long sigh escaped her lips. "He's almost never around, Justin." He looked as if he wanted to ask more but Kathryn wasn't ready in that moment to talk about her father's absence. So she took a ball out of the hopper and tossed it to him. He caught it easily with one hand.

"What does this thing do?" he asked.

"Nothing," she answered, matter-of-factly. "You're supposed to hit it with the racquet."

He looked at the court. "Back and forth, over the net?" She nodded. "Trying to get it into the boxes?"

At this she shook her head. "Not exactly. I'll show you. It's harder than you think."

#

They took a break halfway through a set and rested on the athletic field. Clouds floated in a picture-perfect blue sky above their heads, the grass soft like a blanket below them. Justin's presence was a balm soothing her raw soul.

"I don't think I've ever enjoyed tennis that much," she told him.

"That's because you were kicking my ass at the game," he teased. Kathryn thought she could hear him grinning.

"Well, I guess being captain of my tennis team was useful for something," she laughed.

"Hm," he said, thinking about her comment. "Captain Kathryn Janeway. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

How did we go from talking about tennis to talking about command? she wondered, and lifted her head off his chest to look him in the eyes.

"Why in the world are you so determined to get me to switch to command?"

The carefree moment had been lost and a serious look had taken over his face. "Because you'd be damned good at it. And that matters because in our line of work people get asked to put their lives on the line, and I want someone like you to do the asking."

She stared at him blankly for a moment, stunned by what his comment had meant. They'd both just nearly died because of decisions someone higher up had made. Now she was getting offered the chance to make those decisions.

Dark and frightening memories threatened at the edge of her psyche. No. Not now, she thought. I can't handle this now. Besides, what about his next mission? If they were going to talk about her plans, she certainly wanted to talk about his. That seemed an even more unpleasant can of worms to open.

"I'm not going to talk about command, not now," she decided, snuggling back onto his chest. "I'm enjoying this too much."

"Alright, alright." He paused to change the conversation. "So explain to me about this traditionalist school, then."

Again it struck her as ironic that he seemed so interested in her life yet held his cards so close to the chest. But she answered him anyways.

"There's not much to say. Anything that could be done with minimal technology, was. We learned about ancient history instead of galactic cultures in school, that type of thing," she explained. "Our entire community was traditionalist. I grew up in a non-automated farmhouse. My parents don't transport directly home; they use the community center. And we cooked. No replicated food. I resented that especially."

"That…sounds familiar," he chimed in quietly.

She looked up at him. "But it wasn't a choice for you."

His blue eyes considered hers. "In a way it wasn't a choice for you, either."

He'd made an unexpected point. "That's true," she noted. While his family had lived traditionally as a result of a hardscrabble life and hers had done it out of sheer privilege, their childhood lifestyles hadn't been choices either one of them had made.

It astonished her that he was trying to find common ground. She hazarded a guess on another topic. "Did your little sister happen to be an annoying, pain-in-the-neck like mine too?"

She felt his head move in a motion that was halfway between a nod for 'yes' and a shake for 'no'. "Annoying isn't the right word. Caroline's more in the 'obnoxious, self-righteous little sister' category."

Kathryn was surprised to realize how similarly she felt about her own sister. Calling Phoebe 'annoying' had been using the polite word. She offered hesitantly, "I never told you that Phoebe and I don't have anything to do with each other unless our parents force us to, did I?" She'd never been able to figure out how to make the relationship work, and as much as she liked to blame Phoebe, she knew she herself was equally at fault.

"Really," he said, sounding surprised to hear this. "Why?"

"I don't know," she sighed. "We're night and day, I suppose. She's an artist. I'm a scientist. I'm a planner and a perfectionist. Phoebe just goes with the flow. We absolutely don't understand each other. With Dad being gone, we didn't seek comfort in each other; we blamed each other and then fought bitterly for his attention when he was around. She…" Kathryn's voice trailed off as she realized she needed to correct herself. "We both can be quite cruel."

"The pictures in your quarters," Justin led. "Everything looks so perfect."

Her space was littered with photographs of memorable occasions with family and friends from the Academy. The images made her temporary home seem more cozy, she'd thought, even though she felt misunderstood by most of her family and she wasn't close with the majority of the friends. She'd caught Justin looking at her graduation photos one morning but he'd never asked about them until now.

She crossed her arms on his chest, resting her head on them as if they were a pillow. "It's aspirational, Justin," she explained. "I want the smiling family that's in my Academy commissioning picture. Did you notice my father's missing from my high school and my doctoral graduation photos?"

"I just figured you were closer to your mother," he responded.

"He didn't make it to those graduations," she corrected. "He's barely been around for the last 15 years of my life. I lost track of the birthdays and recitals he missed. I didn't believe he would make it to my commissioning ceremony until I saw him with my own eyes. I understand that duty leaves him no choice, but it seems like when there is one, he still picks his work."

"My father refused to go to my Academy graduation," Justin said quietly. She looked up at him, utterly shocked at what she was hearing. "I offered to cover his missed wages and his transportation, everything. But he wouldn't come."

"That makes no sense. Why wouldn't he come?" she asked, more incredulous than she thought she had reason to be.

"This wasn't the dream he had for me. He thought I should be running the mine back home."

"That must've felt terrible." And so familiar, she thought. She could practically feel the sting of the outright rejection that she knew so well.

He shrugged, dismissing her sympathy. Though one of his hands cradled her back, she could see the fingers of his other one wrapped tensely around a fistful of grass.

"Don't get me wrong. I understand why my father thought that should be my ambition. There's a lot to do down there, and it's complicated engineering, trying to find and extract what dilithium is left." He looked at her cautiously as if considering whether to tell her what he was going to say next. "I worked in the mines," he said by way of explanation. "On school breaks, starting when I was fourteen."

This news shouldn't have come as a surprise to her, but it did. She quickly connected his comment to one the Admiral had made to her days earlier. "Is that why you approached Admiral Paris about entering the Academy when you were fifteen?" she asked.

"So he told you that." He tilted his head and she thought she could see annoyance on his face. "The future for that colony is short, no matter how high up in the ranks you go. And I knew that back then."

He shifted under her.

"I was able to bring my mom out for graduation," he said, continuing his story. "She watched me roast in the hot sun for two hours to get my pip. She told me Dad was proud, but I knew she was just trying to tell me what I wanted to hear. I'm alright with it now."

But was he, really? He had said that there was nothing for him back on Klatus Prime and he had no intention of ever returning.

"You don't sound alright with it," she prodded.

He took a very deep breath and let it out slowly.

"One of the first things I ever told you was that I decided when I was ten that I wasn't following in my father's footsteps. It was because he'd tried to prevent a cave-in, and in the process lost two fingers and an eye. He saved half of the men on his shift. I didn't want that to happen to me, for the sake of getting some rock out of the ground."

"What happened to other men on his shift?"

He shook his head, and her stomach sank. "My dad's brave as hell," he added.

"So are you," she reminded him. The wind ruffled Justin's hair and Kathryn felt the need to tuck a short lock behind his ear. Underneath her she felt him laugh, ruefully and silently.

"What?"

"The irony is that in the end, I did end up just like him."

He sat up, and she rolled off him. He sat, arms resting on his knees, staring at the cornfields and away from her.

"The Cardassians mostly left me alone in my cell. But the second day, they took me out and introduced me to one of their xenobiologists. She said she was curious about a little ocular parasite that had been ravaging one of their colonies. Told me she wanted to test out a cure." He laughed, sadly, then looked at her. "Starfleet told me they'd get the transplant to match perfectly and that no one would notice. I'll have to tell the doctor he was right, the next time I'm back."

"What?" Her gaze darted between his eyes, looking for any sign of what she suddenly realized had been done to him. But there was none.

He smiled sadly, folding his hands. "They gave me the parasite, but no cure, of course," he explained, anger and disbelief playing out on his face. "By the time I escaped, my right eye had been obliterated by the thing. You heard Admiral Paris's screams; I lay in the cold and the dark and heard nothing but my own while that thing ate its way through my eye."

She looked again, trying to see a difference in the blue in his two eyes.

"They're the same," he explained. "They grew me a new one from what was left. It looks just like my first eye. Dad told me I couldn't run from my problems by joining Starfleet, and he was right. The only difference between me and him now is that when I lost my eye, I got a replacement."

He looked down at his hands, turning them over as if in amazement. "Huh. That's the first time I've told anyone that and haven't ended up shaking."

"Who else have you told?" she asked, slowly reaching out her hand to hold his.

"A long list of Starfleet therapists and doctors," he replied. "Paris and Edaaw. No one else."

So he hadn't told his family, she realized, just like her. "Is this why you don't go back home?" she asked quietly. "You don't want them to know?"

He nodded. "My mother has a sixth sense. She'll know something happened. And I don't want to hear my father say, 'I told you so.'" He locked eyes with her. "Are you planning on telling your family?"

She sighed. "I imagine Owen may have already. Sometimes it's not always good to be in the family business."

"Amen." He stood up. "Come on. I still haven't beaten you at a game yet and my ego needs a little stroking."

She laughed and followed him to her feet.

#

Time and worries seemed to vanish as they played. For the first time in all the years she'd played she had an opponent who was playing for fun, not competition, where the point was to tease each other about how terrible their shots were instead of winning the game. They'd stopped keeping score halfway through.

It impressed her how quickly Justin had taken to the sport. Owen had been right; his physical aptitude was clearly off the charts as he barely missed any of the shots she lobbed in his direction. Once he'd hit the ball, well, his aim needed some work. She'd lost track of the number he'd hit clear out of the court when he'd underestimated his own strength.

He'd set up a final shot, and Kathryn was ready to go in for the kill. Justin's serve was no longer laughable and the ball was both in-bounds and reachable. She charged towards it, pulling back her shoulders, twisting her torso, ready for the impact. And when she felt it—

Boom.

She smashed the ball to the other side of the court, her follow-through so intense that a sharp pain cut through her shoulder. The ball hit the far corner and ricocheted up over the three-meter fence, landing in the grass behind with a quiet thud.

But she didn't notice. The sweet serotonin that had been flowing through her veins was suddenly replaced with acidic adrenaline. Every cell in her body screamed for her to run yet she felt too terrorized to move. Her heart was a snare drum in her chest, its loud and painful tattoo the only sound she could make out. An invisible elephant sat on her lungs with each sharp, shallow, rapid breath she took. The enemy was nowhere to be found yet his presence seemed palpable, inescapable.

A low whistle could be heard across the court. "Out," Justin called.

Kathryn turned to him, her face pale and skin feeling clammy. Her hands trembled and the racquet fell from her fingers. It hit the hardcourt with a metallic thud.

She felt like she was drowning, a voice in her head crying out, trying to stay above water: It was just a tennis ball, it was just a tennis ball, it was just a tennis ball-

Justin looked at her curiously then dropped his racquet and moved purposefully across the court, jumping over the net. She watched his every movement in what felt like slow motion before he was at her side.

"All this time," he said calmly, "I thought you'd had some combat training, taking out that Toskanar the way you did."

The ground seemed to pull at her and she sat, knees up, head in her hands. Her hair had fallen in her eyes, forearms resting on her knees. He sat down and joined her in the Indiana sun. The pictures in her head were so vivid: the trooper, the monstrous canine, the blood flying everywhere as the creature's teeth cut clear through Justin's body armor... desperately she tried to force the images out of her head and felt herself failing miserably.

"No…just…just…Goddammit, Justin, I want this out of my head! They never told me this was what I was signing up for!" She wanted to cry but couldn't. Her hands were still shaking violently. He reached out for one and took it, wrapping her delicate fingers in his strong ones, forcing the tremors to stillness.

"To think of all the hundreds of hours I spent practicing on these courts," she said, looking around, her words vitriolic, free hand gesturing wildly. "All this time I was never learning tennis. I was learning a combat skill."

"And it saved my life," he reminded her. "You can be angry about this, but I have to be thankful about at least that part of it."

She stared at him in wide-eyed shock. "You're thankful for what happened to us?" Had he lost his mind?

His gaze fell to his feet, then rose to the sky, finally settling on cornfields in the distance. "My mother used to have a saying. An old Earth one, I suppose," he began. "Every cloud has a silver lining."

How quaint, she thought, not wanting to belittle the memory but feeling patronized nonetheless. "I've heard it," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm.

He looked back at her. "Do you think we'd have been together if you hadn't been captured? If I hadn't been? You are the one person who understands. How completely wrong is it that, in part, the Cardassians are responsible for leading me to the woman I love?"

Wait, what?

He'd set her head spinning. She must've heard wrong; he couldn't have just said that he loved her. Justin just didn't say things like that.

"You…what did you say?" she asked, stammering.

He plowed ahead. "If I hadn't nearly lost you, I probably would've kept my mouth shut all year and let you walk right out of my life at the end of the mission. I doubt we'd be together if it hadn't been for the Cardassians."

She was shaking her head furiously, her eyes wide as she hung on his every word. "No, the other part."

He took a deep breath as if gathering the strength inside him to say the next words. Then quietly, shyly, he spoke.

"Yeah, Kathryn. I'm in love with you."

"I love you too." The words had flown from her lips. There had been no hesitation, there was no regret, only a need to let it be spoken before she woke up from this moment that was surely a dream. Desperately she threw her arms around his neck and they lost their balance, collapsing back on the grass in a heap, her kisses unrestrained. "I love you," she echoed again.

"Good," he said, sounding relieved, "Because I was worried you didn't." Her eyebrows went up in surprise. She'd thought her emotions had been an open book.

"I was worried you didn't feel that way either," she said. She looked away, then furtively back at him. "So you were never going to say anything?" she asked. "All year?"

He looked at her inquisitively. "No. Were you?"

"I…didn't realize how attracted to you I was." She paused then cast her glance to the side, muttering an oath.

"What?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"You're right. This—you and I-wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been captured. I didn't have feelings for you until after the mission." A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "How thoroughly revolting that I owe the Cardassians a debt of gratitude."

"You don't owe them anything," he snarled, then sobered. "But maybe it makes some of the agony worthwhile." He looked around at the court. "Again tomorrow?"

The idea of another mid-game flashback wasn't appealing at all. Frowning, she shook her head.

"I don't think so."

After considering her for a moment he spoke to the computer. "Computer, reserve the athletic holodeck from 1800 to 1900 hours daily for the next seven days and pre-load program Janeway three-zero." He gave the computer his authorization codes for the change.

She did not like the sound of this. "Justin, what are you doing?"

"Exposure therapy. We're going to whack fuzzy yellow balls around until a backhand doesn't make you think you're staring down Cardassian troopers and Toskanar dogs. Starfleet's going to make you do it anyways. This way, at least maybe you can finish debriefing early. You could get started on command school or your next posting sooner." His voice was unexpectedly compassionate, caring, and just downright….

Paternal.

He will not make me do this. She knew what she had to do. Kathryn stood up, looked him in the eyes, and spoke a command to the ship.

"Computer, delete program Janeway three-zero, authorization zeta—"

"Wait."

Kathryn wondered what was more infuriating: that he'd interrupted her or that he was going to try to tell her what to do, again. She could see him gritting his teeth as if wanting to say one thing, but gathering the words to say another.

"I don't agree with what you're doing. But I of all people should know that you need to call the shots right now," he offered apologetically. "You don't have to delete the program. I know you put a lot of work into it. Keep it for when you're ready to use it again."

This came as a complete surprise. Unlike earlier in the day, she hadn't had to tell him what was wrong and he'd figured out how to fix it.

Goddammit, he's a quick learner.

But it was the next thought that hit her like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her speechless.

I think I could marry this man.

Stunned, she stared at him, dazed and unblinking for more than a moment. He waved his hand in front of her face.

"Anybody home, Kathryn?"

"Hm?" she answered, his voice pulling her abruptly out of her shock.

"Please tell me you weren't dissociating again," he asked. Those beautiful blue eyes—that lovely, new blue eye—looked worried. Instead of answering, she stepped forward and pulled him into an embrace.

"No," she replied, smiling and feeling nothing less than perfect comfort in his arms. "This time I stayed put." He pulled her closer against his chest.

"Just promise me one thing," he asked. She looked up, wondering he could possibly want her to commit to. "When you're ready to play again, say you'll bring me to this place in real life."

A slow smile lit her face like a sunrise. "It's a deal."

Kathryn ended the program and they returned to her quarters. She held him close that night as they slept, afraid that the monsters of her nightmares would take not her again, but him.