Kathryn was going to move out of Starfleet housing.
It was time, she thought, as she finally made it across the threshold and into her cookie-cutter apartment. Not just because it had been months since they had been back, but because she spent all day every day switching between being the poster girl or the whipping girl for all of Starfleet, and she should be able to go home away from that, away from the Captains and the Vice Admirals and the Commanders that would stop her in the hall for a word or a request - or a proposition, as was the case tonight.
At least, that was the tenor of it. Even though she imagined she looked at best like she had gone without sleep for 36 hours - as was close to the truth.
Her promotion after her hearings had concluded hadn't been because Starfleet was proud, but because they wanted to keep an eye on her, this renegade captain who had been operating outside of the chain of command for seven long years. This captain who avoided the Dominion War - by luck, as so many saw it. And now, as Admiral, she was meant to fit back into the system, to pull her weight, to see to what had been left untended in the chaos of war and fix what had been disrupted.
And it was just like Kathryn to do everything they asked of her to the very best of her abilities - if not perfectly - even though she was fully aware of the futility of her position. The futility of getting back to space - if she even wanted that in the same way.
She didn't spend very much time thinking of it. There was so much she had yet to process. The endless information they had gathered, explanations to be made, theories to be tested. The status of Voyager herself. Visiting with the families of the crew Kathryn had lost.
Considering another command was worst on those days.
So she worked. And she worked, and she worked. And she pushed herself to file every single requalification she could think of. Shot, ran, climbed, doing better than she ever had and aching constantly, since all the hyposprays in the world couldn't make her body younger.
They had missed a lot in seven years. There was new protocol, new tech, new people. So much to catch up on, so much to understand.
And so, Kathryn hadn't been sleeping much.
At least, she had all of that to use as an excuse.
And still, that cocky Captain Something-or-other who was just living there for a week during his reassignment, had caught her in the hall to ask her in for a drink.
A few months earlier, she might have. He was tall and handsome, younger but not depressingly so. And she was so tired. But she'd learned by now. That smirk on his face wasn't just charm, it was him thinking about having a story about The Captain Janewayof his own.
Kathryn wouldn't even come into play.
So Admiral Janeway declined politely, with a smile. She didn't hurry to her door or slouch at the keypad.
Inside, however, all of it dropped. Kathryn got to be Kathryn, or whatever was left of her. Because she was alone.
The apartment didn't do anything to ameliorate her feelings on either circumstance. Another reason to leave. She hadn't been there for more than what little sleep she got, but it didn't explain why she had left it so empty, why her personal possessions remained mostly in the few boxes she brought from Voyager, why she hadn't accepted any of her mom's or Phoebe's offers to decorate.
Thinking of them often prompted her daydream about moving home to Indiana - but she always got stuck on the bump of being a middle-aged Admiral living with her perfectly capable mother. Something about it felt like retreat. Likely because it was. It didn't matter that her family were the only ones she felt something close to normal with. She needed to make the effort. She needed to make her own life again. Go to see the friends who had come to visit her on her return. Go to all the places she had missed. Find where she fit now, who she was now. Because the answer was not in her life before. And it was not as Voyager's Captain.
Which still hurt her in ways she couldn't begin to express.
But. She had passed her requalifications. She had filed the most pressing reports. She would take some time off. Some well-deserved time off, to figure things out. To go wherever she wanted, do whatever she wanted, with no demands of propriety or safety.
She would.
Soon.
The more pressing concern was what she would do right then, late for dinner but too early for bed. The answer was in the kitchen cabinet, a real, non-replicated wine. Loosening her jacket, Kathryn grabbed it and the single glass still in the drying rack from the night before.
It wasn't a problem. She did savor it, especially when she was tired enough that her head was somewhat clear, not ringing with the past or responsibilities. She was just about there, and she brought the bottle and the glass to the couch, deciding it was better than staying in the kitchen and pretending she would get some food together.
At least the couch was comfortable, and the wine was wonderful, and her brain had slowed enough that there was a chance, just a chance, that she would get a dreamless if not restful sleep that night.
The buzzer rang.
The universe clearly had other plans.
The jolt of adrenaline was enough to get her mind whirring again, set her back rigid. Though the absurdity of that heightened response calmed her some. No one came to her apartment, at least not without letting her know. Not even Phoebe, though a surprise visit did feel like a Phoebe thing. It could be someone from work, but that would have to mean bad news, and there would be some other indication of what was going on. At least a comm.
Whoever it was most likely had their address wrong.
But then she'd never know for sure unless she answered the door. And whoever it was wasn't leaving.
The buzzer rang again.
Kathryn put her wine down and pulled herself together enough to go to the door, fueled by a building well of anger at whoever this idiot interrupting her half a chance at a decent night was. By the time her finger was on the panel, she decided to dispense with inquiry and meet this intruder head on.
She jammed the door open, and was immediately struck senseless by the sight before her.
"Seven," she whispered.
The shock of Seven at her door power washed all the other emotions Kathryn had been feeling away. It took most of her voice, too. It just couldn't possibly be Seven, the woman who had consumed so many of her thoughts for so long.
The woman she had unforgivably distanced herself from.
Seven had tried to keep close at the beginning, reaching out, leaving updates. Kathryn always acknowledged them - but never returned anything in kind. She made excuses for meetings, for visits. Kathryn knew Seven could tell what she was doing, but she also couldn't stop. It was near impossible watching her with Chakotay. It had been hard enough onboard Voyager, but when they were still together on Earth, something in Kathryn cracked. She hated herself for how hard it was. She hated herself for every errant thought about how she hoped it would end. These were two people she cared deeply for. She wasn't so selfish that she wanted either of them to suffer. But she also wasn't so selfless that she could handle them as a couple.
If she could be honest with herself, she could barely handle any of her personal life after all that time, after seven years under the constant weight of command. She had lost Kathryn somewhere in there, and it left her completely unarmed when it came to anything outside of Starfleet protocol.
But she wasn't honest with herself. She just knew that painful splinter in the heart of her that swore they deserved each other - they had both made the mistake of wanting her once, but they had realized their failings and moved on from the aged captain warped by guilt and control. When she gradually heard less from Seven, it wasn't that Seven had accepted the distance Kathryn set, it was that Seven no longer needed her. And that was a good thing. Even if it destroyed her every time she had to discuss the Borg. Or glimpsed a certain shade of blue.
But Seven wasthere, really standing in her doorway, that particular shade of blue analyzing her as if she needed the time to process this unusual reality, too.
But surely Kathryn looked the same, if not a little worse for wear. Still in a uniform, even if it was new, still with the bob that was easier as things got harder. Seven, however -
Seven was wearing her hair down, and she wasn't in a biosuit or a uniform. She was wearing something entirely appropriate for a young Earth woman on a weekday night. Clean lines and soft fabrics.
She looked absolutely radiant.
"I am sorry for intruding, Admiral," Seven hesitated. "If you are unwell -"
Kathryn couldn't help barking out a laugh. She supposed she did look worse for the wear then. More than a little. She'd be ashamed if she weren't so tired, and if she weren't already ashamed of so much.
"No, no, Seven, I'm fine," Kathryn answered. "I'm sorry for gaping, it's just so nice to see you. Please, come in."
She stepped aside, ushering Seven in, letting this buoyant hostess energy carry her through the space it didn't match at all. At least Kathryn could be glad nothing was dirty.
"Can I get you anything? Tea?"
Seven appeared to be cataloguing everything about the apartment, including the mostly full bottle and single glass still sitting half full on the coffee table.
"Perhaps a glass of your wine?"
Kathryn tried not to register surprise. It had been months, months of Seven exploring and growing at that exponential rate she had to compensate for what had been taken from her. And Kathryn had not been witness to any of it. She supposed she wasn't the expert on all things Seven anymore.
Realizing that, she tried not to register overwhelming sadness.
"Of course. It's always better to drink with a friend." The second it was out, Kathryn knew how pitiful it sounded and wondered if she needn't do more to hide the sorry state of things from Seven, but Seven just nodded appreciatively as Kathryn fetched the other glass.
She returned to the living room, automatically gesturing. "Please, sit."
Seven did without reluctance, choosing the couch where Kathryn had been in another clear departure from her days on Voyager.
Kathryn handed Seven her wine and then grabbed her own, sitting in the chair at Seven's side, not knowing what proximity would be welcome, or what was expected.
Finally settled, she realized - she had no idea why Seven was there.
Seven didn't appear to be particularly forthcoming. She savored the healthy sip she took from her glass.
"Did Jean-Luc send you this?"
"Yes," Kathryn replied in pleasure before it registered, "'Jean-Luc?'"
Seven had the decency or at least the new human understanding to look sheepish. "I have spent some time with Captain Picard since our return. He thought it might be useful for both of us - as former Borg. I have grown to enjoy his company."
Kathryn should have thought of that. She also should have been there to facilitate their meeting, to help Seven. And she shouldn't have felt a pang of emptiness at hearing Seven call Picard by his name.
"I'm so glad, Seven." That was the truth at least. "He's a good man. And a good person to have as a friend."
Seven hummed her assent as she took another sip.
Kathryn waited a moment to see if she'd say more, if she'd update her on other new friends she'd gained, other skills she had learned - but Seven was seemingly content in the silence. Or at least she was unreadable, in a way she hadn't been to Kathryn since perhaps her very first days on Voyager.
Kathryn found herself needing to put herself in opposition to Jean-Luc - she was a terrible person to have as a friend, as she had so clearly demonstrated. Instead, she took the opportunity to say what she had been on the edge of comming Seven to say for the last eight months.
"I'm sorry, Seven."
Kathryn made herself look into Seven's eyes and found no surprise there. If anything, it was anticipation, but Kathryn wasn't about to make her wait. It was all she could do to stay in her seat and keep her words coming in fully-formed sentences.
"I failed you. As a friend and as a captain. Not being there for you... I am so sorry. I have no excuse for leaving you like that."
Seven considered her a moment. "No, you don't."
It stung, but Kathryn had put the knife there herself. And she certainly didn't forgive herself, so why should Seven? Seven appeared to be thinking along the same lines, gathering the deserved reprimands that Kathryn had been able to avoid all this time.
"I was... hurt," Seven began, "I knew, logically, that you had obligations that outweighed my needs, but our arrival here was... overwhelming. It was only made more so by the fact that you were not nearby - that you did not appear to be invested in helping my acclimation. "
If this was to be Kathryn's punishment for her actions, it might have been suitable based on the driving pain in her chest, her absolute sense of failure, and her current overpowering distress at trying not to cry when she was the one who had caused the hurt.
But except for her original reminiscence, Seven was looking at her plainly, calm even as her words shared the brutal truth.
"You removed your presence from my life," Seven stated, "However, I later grew to realize that you had not, in fact, left me."
That wasn't anything like what Kathryn had anticipated and she couldn't trust herself to speak. Seven, clearly still adept at reading her despite their time apart, knowingly continued.
"When we first landed, Chakotay was anxious. He needed to offer himself to face judgment for the Maquis' crimes, but that would mean our physical separation. To our surprise, he was left free to return to his hearings by his own recognizance. By the time the hearings had finished, he received only minimal penalties and praise for his work aboard Voyager."
Kathryn wasn't certain where this was going, but she knew listening to Seven and Chakotay's togetherness was a necessary part of her punishment. But again, Seven seemed to know and continued in another direction.
"The Doctor thought his holoemitter would be taken to be dissected - and that perhaps I and Icheb might be similar projects. But the Doctor was granted full control over his autonomy. When Icheb finished debriefing, he was welcomed into the Academy."
Seven's voice turned a shade softer, one that Kathryn still recognized as her most human.
"As for myself - I was asked only to help explain what I know of Borg technology. I never attended a medical exam performed by anyone other than the Doctor. My safety from unscrupulous parties was made a Security priority, but I was never forced to retain guards or an escort. Even as I could tell that there were officers in Starfleet who clearly wanted... more... something held them back."
As Seven listed each fact, it was clear something lightened in her. It was also becoming clear to Kathryn where she was headed. But she didn't dare interrupt - in case it was too good to be true.
"When I finished helping Starfleet, there were offers waiting for me from Institutes across the quadrant. Prestigious positions where I would be given free reign by people who were intrigued, not afraid."
Seven stopped and studied Kathryn in a way that made her want to squirm in her seat. But she wouldn't move. She wouldn't say anything until it was clear Seven was through.
Seven didn't disappoint.
"Your behavior had made me unsure. Sad. Later, I was angry. It is still, however, embarrassing that it took me so long to understand." A rare and beautiful warmth passed through Seven's gaze. "You haven't seen me, but you have been protecting me. All this time, you have been looking after all of us."
Kathryn couldn't blame the tears welling in her eyes on the hour or her tiredness or anything else. She blinked them away.
"You weren't meant to know," Kathryn admitted, giving Seven her out. Then she admitted what still kept her up at night, what still kept her working. "It was the least I could do. I owe you all, so much."
A flash of something hard passed over Seven's face.
"You do not," she avowed. "You owe us nothing. You have delivered us home." Her voice grew softer again. "You have brought me home. You have made my life here... desirable."
Kathryn couldn't handle the emotions roiling through her, so she returned to the one solid ground she knew. Her remorse. "It doesn't excuse my absence."
"No," Seven agreed, then offering an olive branch wrapped in a tendril of her humor. "But you have been busy."
Kathryn laughed, a wet thing spurred by this chance at forgiveness and the bone-rattling truth of how hard she had been pushing, pushing, pushing.
Seven apparently recognized all that. Her glass long set down, she moved until her knees were right up against Kathryn's and easily took her hand.
"You have been busy," she said again, seriously, reading every line in Kathryn's face, making her feel the weight of the bags under her eyes, the hollows of her cheeks. "Caring for all of your crew. But you are no longer the Captain. Who has been looking after you?"
Kathryn thought it was rhetorical, knew that her loneliness was radiating off of her uncontrolled in the face of a dear friend's return. But then Seven continued, "Are you seeing anyone?"
Under the weight of Seven's observation, Kathryn could only think of therapy and how she had been grappling with Deanna, who was too close to everything and not close enough; who was everything she could hope for in a counselor, and how that in itself was threatening; how she felt she was still being interrogated long after her hearings had passed.
"Yes." Kathryn didn't understand why Seven's brow furrowed. Perhaps since she was still in such a sorry state. "Every Thursday afternoon. But we're most successful talking about coffee and chocolate."
Suddenly, Seven's brow cleared - and she giggled. Or at least as close as Seven came to a giggle. Kathryn was all the more puzzled as Seven squeezed the hand she still held in hers.
"I meant if you were seeing anyone socially. Romantically."
Oh.
Kathryn didn't bother fighting the blush that infused her cheeks. Even the question revived feelings she had failed in desperately trying to regain upon her return to Earth.
"No."
Seven smiled her best smile, the broad, all-encompassing one that had Kathryn blushing again.
"I would like to go on our date then. I checked - you are free tomorrow evening."
Kathryn was shocked. She should have known Seven would always hold her to a promise, but she couldn't have rightfully expected - it had ceased to an option once Seven had left with Chakotay, when it had been too much of a dream to begin with. Kathryn had so many questions about Seven's personal life, which she intentionally had not spied on, and now somewhat regretted. How could she even be available?
"Seven -"
Seven wasn't having it. She cut Kathryn off firmly. "I took your advice. I did not put my life on hold, and I have experienced a great deal. Both fun," she intentionally recalled Kathryn's words from what felt like another lifetime, "And not at all.
"You will not be my first kiss, my first date, my first sexual partner." Seven hesitated only a moment. "But I do still believe that you will be my first love."
Kathryn stifled a gasp. She had a dream sometimes that started like this, but always ended with shrapnel lodged in her soft tissues. It couldn't possibly actually be happening.
"I am currently unattached," Seven continued. "As are you. I would still like our first date."
Suddenly, Kathryn registered all the signs of Seven's uncertainty: the extended moment at the door, the glass of wine, her face just in this moment - "If you have changed your mind..."
Kathryn would not let her finish that sentence.
"No. I haven't." Kathryn licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. "I want - Yes. I will go on a date with you."
Kathryn was rewarded with another brilliant smile, Seven's confidence restored. And something new, something... slyer.
"Excellent." Seven leaned in closer, her breath warm on Kathryn's cheek. "May I kiss you?"
Kathryn, with all her control of command, managed to nod.
Her lips were met by the gentlest of touches.
Seven's full and impossibly soft lips just brushed up against hers, but that's all it took to reignite everything Kathryn had ever felt or hoped to feel, from the tips of her toes to her now tingling scalp.
There was nothing on this planet, in this galaxy, in this universe that she wanted more than Seven in that moment.
As if reading her once again, Seven pulled back, smiling even as she removed her hand from Kathryn's face.
"That typically does not happen before the first date," Seven clarified, "But I am glad it did."
Kathryn didn't understand how Seven was using her mouth and her brain for anything other than kissing at that particular moment. Perhaps she was overtired.
Seven stood and Kathryn rose with her, as if drawn by a magnet.
"I will be here for you tomorrow at 1900 hours. If that is acceptable."
Kathryn reached for Seven's Borg-augmented hand, and Seven allowed it, as if she knew how stabilizing the touch would be to Kathryn. Oddly steady ground.
"Yes," Kathryn confirmed. "Thank you, Seven."
Seven didn't move, which was good because Kathryn wasn't sure she would allow it. She ran her fingers over the metal at Seven's fingertips, felt the smooth warmth of her skin right beside it. She looked at Seven's silken hair, her bright eyes, the shine of her implants. Knowing what she looked like beside her. Knowing how they had been apart.
"I don't deserve you."
Kathryn was rewarded with another unexpected smile. Seven tilted her head, this time a demonstrative show of concentration.
"Perhaps not." Kathryn could feel the teasing and still couldn't help her heart flipping. "But as I believe it is said, 'the heart wants what the heart wants.""
Seven using Earth expressions still delighted Kathryn. But now Seven had an awareness, astute and charming - and definitely a different woman from even their last days on Voyager. Still she kept growing, an ever-unfurling tapestry.
And Kathryn could admit right then that she loved, had loved every inch.
Kathryn rose on her toes to catch Seven's lips once more, trying to be equally as soft - trying to convey what this all meant to her. What Seven meant to her. How much she had missed her.
When she pulled back, she was gratified to see Seven looked a little more like she felt. Like she didn't want to leave quite yet. But they had time now.
"Tomorrow," Seven said.
"Tomorrow," Kathryn agreed.
They both smiled as Kathryn led Seven back to her front door, impressing herself with her restraint. She opened it, and Seven stepped out into the hall. Kathryn mentally began a countdown to 7 PM tomorrow.
Seven turned to face her fully. Not close enough to touch, already gone, but gazing at her, she said:
"Goodnight, Kathryn."
Her name. For the first time.
She never knew how much it could feel like a kiss.
Kathryn's fingers unconsciously drifted over her lips, still resolutely curling up at the edges.
"Goodnight, Seven."