CHAPTER 9

Indiana

"Oh, well that's just great."

Phoebe Janeway's steps faltered when she saw who was standing beneath the large oak tree that overlooked a small pond on the outskirts of the Janeway farm. As much as she wanted to turn around and retreat back into the large house she had just escaped from she knew such action would be ridiculous. Seven already knew she was there.

"Phoebe Janeway." Seven ignored the anxiety that filled her as she kept her voice flat though acknowledging. Her stance went more rigid as she clasped her hands behind her back. She wasn't aware that such impassivity would just anger Phoebe all the more.

"Seven of Nine." Phoebe's voice was anything but flat. Seven's name came out almost tauntingly and surely irritated. "What do you think you're doing out here?"

"I required… air." A cold sort of panic swept through Seven's lanky frame as she watched Phoebe's dark blue eyes narrow with poorly concealed antagonism. "I will leave now."

As calmly as she could Seven walked steadily away from the small pond towards the house. Phoebe's voice stopped her a few steps after Seven had walked past her.

"Answer me one thing, huh… who the hell do you think you are?" One slim hand went to her jutted hip while the other one had a finger pointed at Seven. Phoebe's voice was hard and unforgiving as it went up in volume and accusation.

"I—I do not understand the question." Seven really didn't. She knew exactly who she was.

"Coming here. Looking all…" Phoebe's hands waved in the air as she grasped for the words she wanted to say. "Damaged! Don't you think I know what you did? I know exactly what you did, Seven of Nine. You. Killed. Her."

The small muscle in Seven's jaw below her starburst implant jumped and continued to as she felt a wave of pain, guilt, and anger. Yes, she was infuriated by this woman before her and her condemnation. But the truth of the matter was she couldn't truly deny Phoebe's indictment.

Seven's stony silence just incensed Phoebe more. Her voice cut through the calm night sky as she rained all her sorrow and wrath onto the woman before her, which caused her slim frame to shake with the ferocity of her anguish. "Why? Why did you do it? You left her! She died alone on that damned Borg ship! All alone! Do you understand that? She was all alone!"

Phoebe screamed loudly before she let her fist fly. A tight grasp on her wrist prevented her punch from connecting with Seven's face. The hit that did connect made her howl out in sudden pain after her fist collided with the metal of Seven's abdominal implant. Now both her wrists were held in Seven's impenetrable grip.

"Get your hands off me!" Phoebe pulled fiercely away from the woman that had her wrists imprisoned as hot tears of both grief and frustration streamed down her cheeks. "I said get your goddamned hands off me you… you BORG! You're not even a person. You're not human. You're a machine and you always will be! Now let me go, you goddamned toaster!"

Phoebe let out a surprised gasp as she landed quite hard on the cold ground. She looked up angrily at the seemingly always impassive woman towering above her. But Phoebe Janeway saw something she had never before seen on Seven's features and in those icy blue eyes. And she knew that any patience Seven had held for a grieving little sister was now gone. If she wasn't so furious she would have perhaps had the common sense not to aggravate the woman any more than she already had.

"Yeah, that's right. I don't care how much dressing up you do I know what you really are. You're a Borg… a killer." Even shaking on the cold ground, Phoebe's fury heated her blood. "You've killed thousands before. And you've just added one more to your list. How does that feel? Knowing that you killed the one woman who… the one person who would have done anything for you? Who gave you back your life! She saved you. And you killed her in return. I asked you… how does that feel?"

"If you will be silent I will answer your question." Seven was relieved when Phoebe did indeed stop her tirade though the furious expression didn't assist in Seven's calm. "It is true that I was the carrier of the Endgame Virus that destroyed the Borg cube. Initially I was unsuccessful in my mission. The Borg Queen prevented me from deploying it. It seemed that she could not be stopped and Earth would have been the first planet within the Federation to have fallen before the rest of the Quadrant and then the Galaxy would be devastated by the Borg. I could not stop the Queen, she was too powerful for me. It was your sister… she found me in the Hive Mind. She was able to overcome the control of the Collective. Just enough to sacrifice herself. She did it for me. She did it for you. For all those billions upon billions of lives that would have been destroyed by a creature who had taken possession of her body and mind. She did it as she did everything, her way. If you wish to blame me for your sister's death, that is your choice. But know this… I fully acknowledge my part in her demise and I must live with my own guilt. But I also know what was in her thoughts, her heart. She thanked me, Phoebe Janeway. Because I gave her the tools she needed to do this one last act. To save us all."

"If—if that's true. That you were with her, that you could hear her thoughts, know what she was feeling…" Phoebe Janeway's fury was replaced by shame at her own behavior and also the need to know what Seven had felt at the end of her sister's life. "Was she very afraid?"

"I once heard a statement regarding an incident that occurred before I was onboard Voyager. 'Kathryn Janeway once stood toe-to-toe with death and death blinked first'." Seven smiled softly, a bitter-sweet smile of remembrance as she thought of the woman that she had thought, hoped, would be somehow immortal.

"I still can't stop… hating you, Seven. At least for now." It was true that Phoebe had herself composed, but she still couldn't find a way to forgive Seven for her part in Kathryn's death. So she was truthful and knew it hurt Seven, but she couldn't be any more dishonest than Seven could be. Phoebe warred internally for a few seconds before she decided to put it all out there. "She loved you, you know."

"Yes. I know." All the regret for what could have been flashed across Seven's pained features as she acknowledged what she had discovered in those precious moments when she had been utterly connected to Kathryn Janeway.

"And you loved her." Phoebe's voice held no uncertainty. She had seen it plainly written all over Seven's face the moment Kathryn had introduced them at the homecoming celebration.

Seven didn't hesitate or waste a second to wonder how easily she could be read before she answered quietly, almost reverently. "Yes."

"What a fucking mess."

"Indeed."


"We're a long way from home. Everyone is lonely, and all we have is each other. I think eventually people will begin to pair off." Her blue eyes were as light as her tone, she seemed more amused than anything else at the minor indiscretion of two members of her crew having been caught kissing in the turbolift by the First Officer, though there still seemed to be a trace of sadness and guilt in her voice.

Chakotay gazed down upon her, his eyes captivated by the way the Bridge lights highlighted her hair with strands of gold and red and his chest warmed as he wondered how that hair would look loose and falling freely over her delicate shoulders and down her back. His voice was soft and entreating. "Including you?"

He had surprised her he could see that much as she brought her eyes away from the readout on the aft tactical station to lock on to his dark brown ones. Now her voice was almost regretful, but she tried to hide it beneath her tone of confidence and her luminous smile. "As Captain, that's a luxury I don't have. Besides, I intend for us to be home before, before Mark gives me up for dead."

Chakotay was brought back to the present as he stood next to his crewmates all of whose eyes were trained solely on the gray haired man who had just entered the Janeway homestead and had been quickly engulfed in the strong embrace of Gretchen.

But he did give you up for dead, Kathryn. Chakotay's dark eyes narrowed with a fury spurred on by a deep seated jealousy that fired angrily within his large form. And after only four years. I've waited for you for almost a decade and would have waited for you for a lifetime if need be. He had you and the damned fool let you go.

Chakotay contemplated all he knew about Mark Johnson. Kathryn had never spoken too extensively about the man she had planned to be married to soon after Voyager's first mission to capture Chakotay and the renegade Maquis was completed. However, they had spent four months with only each other for companionship on the planet they had named New Earth, so Chakotay had learned perhaps more than he had wanted to know about the man who had started off as a childhood schoolmate whom she had not liked in the least due to his "vulkiness" but who, over time, had become a strong and sure confidant, a good friend and then her fiancée.

He had learned that Mark Johnson was a tenured professor of philosophy at the University of Chicago and how he suffered from space sickness almost the moment he boarded a spaceship. How Mark had revealed to her after their romantic relationship had begun that he had always loved her, been in love with her, even from childhood. She had laughed when she had told Chakotay this since she had always thought of the child she had been as haughty and too highly opinionated not to mention intolerant of the well-mannered boy who she had called Hobbes or Vulky when her mother wasn't around for the gentle, kind-hearted Mark to ever have loved her. Chakotay had smiled then at the thought of the rambunctious child Kathryn Janeway had been and how one could, not to her face of course, say that she was still haughty and highly opinionated but that she was also so very easy to love.

What had struck Chakotay as curious then was that aside from descriptions of Mark as a kind, quiet man who had given her comfort especially after the death of her father and her first fiancée, Justin Tighe, Kathryn had never been explicit about why she had fallen in love with the man. Chakotay wondered about that fact then and wondered about it now as the man who he had wanted to thank for releasing Kathryn from her marital obligations but to also bash in for having caused the strong woman so much pain spoke in hushed tones to the woman who would have been his mother-in-law.

Mark Johnson towered above Gretchen Janeway, Chakotay hadn't expected the man to be quite so tall. Gretchen barely reached the large man's broad shoulders, which indicated that Mark was several inches taller than Chakotay. The present Captain of Voyager didn't know exactly what he had expected of the man who had been engaged to Kathryn Janeway, perhaps a too thin studious man with no substance to him whatsoever definitely not the man who nearly engulfed Gretchen with his arms and imposing frame. The large build bespoke a man who had been a strong youth who had only softened due to age. The gray haired man's head was bowed as he smiled, a sad tremulous smile, while he still held on to Gretchen Janeway's now trembling form since she had begun to sob softly into the man's green sweater covered chest.

The living room was sparsely filled with people, conversations had quieted, but words that flittered around indicated that most people knew who the gray haired man was who had so recently entered. The ex-fiancé.

Captain Janeway's former crew and Jarem Kaz had never met the man who had quite suddenly, upon his entrance, ended their words of concern for Seven of Nine when Chakotay had uttered a name, the tone filled with years of resentment.

"Who is that?" Jarem kept his voice soft and quiet as his blue gaze took in the tall gray haired man with curiosity.

The holographic Doctor's brow creased as he shifted through his memory files. "I believe that's Mark Johnson. Admiral Janeway was engaged to him when Voyager was taken into the Delta Quadrant."

"Oh." Jarem looked a bit more closely at the man whose identity was just revealed to him.

Before Doctor Jarem Kaz could stop himself he found that he was evaluating the man who would have been Kathryn Janeway's husband. After Jarem appraised the other man with keenly intelligent light blue eyes, he determined for himself that Mark Johnson was an attractive enough fellow if not particularly noteworthy with a large sturdy build that was bulky but couldn't be called fat, had a calm, gentle presence and a slow, easy way of moving. Jarem tried to picture the arresting, authoritative, charming, almost larger than life in personality though delicate and petite in stature woman who was Admiral Kathryn Janeway coupled with a man who on first inspection seemed quite the opposite and found it extremely difficult to do so. Though to be charitable Jarem Kaz hadn't known Kathryn Janeway for very long and certainly hadn't before her grand return from her seven year journey through the Delta Quadrant and so it was quite possible and actually most probable that she had changed immensely in those seven long years.

Before any one of the Starfleet officers could comment further, they closed their mouths and stood straighter as they watched Gretchen Janeway lead the gray haired man towards their position in front of the fireplace. She had encircled one of his arms with her own and though she seemed calm the unmistakable veil of sadness was still around her. Mark for the most part had a relatively friendly and open expression tinged with the sorrow expected of a man who had just lost someone he had loved for nearly his entire life.

The Voyager crew and Mark were left awkwardly alone when Gretchen, after a few cursory introductions had been made, departed to greet a new group of mourners who had just entered the Janeway home.

"Mark." Tom Paris smiled his warmest, most inviting grin as he moved between his wife and Chakotay who he wondered could be giving off any less friendly vibes than the man already was. "Let's get you a drink."

Still smiling his friendly, boyish grin, Tom led Mark away from the scrutiny of his crewmates and into the empty kitchen.

Unlike the others, Tom knew exactly why someone like Kathryn Janeway would have fallen for a guy like Mark. He actually reminded Tom strangely of his mother, Julia Paris. Mark, like his mother, was naturally affable, stable, calm, supportive, and most importantly reliable. Janeway needed someone who would always be there. Someone she could put out of her mind when on a mission. And then come back to when it was over. Tom also understood that the detour into the Delta Quadrant spared Janeway from a pretty dull marriage if a pleasant one.

"Thanks." Mark took the proffered tumbler filled with Irish whiskey gladly. The liquid burned on its way down, but he ignored it as he took a second drink from the glass.

"Not a problem." Tom decided to forgo any more alcohol as he took in the rather shaky way Mark brought the tumbler to his lips. "I'm sorry… we—we all loved her."

Mark peered into his near empty glass for a moment or two before he brought his hazel eyes to Tom's sympathetic expression. He took another drink from the tumbler before he spoke in a soft, gentle tone. "Kath had that effect on people. I think I fell in love with her before I even knew what it meant. She didn't give me the time of day though. Too… 'vulky' for her tastes. Not many people are aware of this, certainly no one in Starfleet, but Kath had a bit of a rebellious streak when she was a teenager."

Janeway's voice from years ago floated in Tom's mind. "When I was in high school I snuck out of the house a couple of times late at night. Had to tiptoe past my parents' bedroom. That's kind of how I feel right now."

Tom almost laughed out loud as an amusing image of a young rebellious teenager that had been Kathryn Janeway was conjured in his thoughts.

"She actually saved my life once. But only after convincing me to go swimming with her in some caves under the Olympus Mons on Mars." Mark laughed softly as he shook his head at the memories. "She probably could have convinced me that jumping out of an orbital shuttle was a good idea. Plus, she wasn't too good at taking no for an answer. She was a bossy little teenager."

Tom's soft snicker matched Mark's as he nodded his head in understanding. "I imagine that she was."

"Was she happy?" Mark's voice lost all of its teasing quality. He looked apprehensively at Tom as his voice turned regretful. "I haven't really heard much of her in the last year. She… I knew she was busy and Carla and I, we—do you know if she was happy?"

"I—I don't know." Tom looked away as dismay marred his features. The reality was that Admiral Janeway in the past year had seemed to increasingly distance herself from her former Voyager crew. "Since I became First Officer onboard Voyager, we've had—"

"Missions." Mark drained the rest of the contents in his glass before he set the tumbler on the kitchen counter next to him. "Yeah, I can understand that."

"She's been busy too. Working to rebuild Starfleet." Tom didn't know who he was trying to convince Mark or himself. The distance that had grown between the Voyager crew that had been lost in the Delta Quadrant and the indomitable woman who had brought them back home was reasonable, tolerable, though regrettable.

Mark merely nodded in acknowledgment of Tom's words, his explanation, as he wrestled with his own guilty conscience for all the things he had done and not done regarding Kathryn Janeway. He had been so relieved when Kathryn and Carla became friends. His wife had always been concerned that if Kathryn Janeway ever came back into his life she would lose him. But that hadn't been the case. Whatever he had with Kathryn had been taken from them during the seven years she had spent in the Delta Quadrant. He still loved her, he always would, but even if he would have been willing to give up his family he knew she wouldn't let him. She was never cold, just distant. Warm but never entirely open. And then after a while she drifted away from him completely and he had allowed it. Seemingly too wrapped up in his own life with his wife and son to notice that the woman he had always loved was vanishing from his life. He didn't know if he should feel a modicum of relief that it hadn't just been him that she had pulled away from. Her beloved crew apparently had also lost that seemingly unbreakable bond that had formed between them during their voyage home. Or perhaps it was just with their former captain that bonds had loosened.

Tears of regret and sorrow formed in Mark's eyes as a pain clutched at his chest. He had been forced to bury Kathryn once before when he had thought she was dead when no word of Voyager appeared after three long years of searching. But she had come back then. Impossibly, but Kathryn never did do things the easy way. So seven years after he had seen her off on her brand new ship, Voyager, her Captain with crew in tow returned to Earth and Kathryn Janeway had been resurrected. His chest tightened as he allowed the hot tears to fall for he knew this time she wouldn't be coming back. Ever. She was gone and he would never have the chance to tell her how much he still loved her and always would.

"I'm sorry." Mark wasn't really that apologetic though he did wipe the tears from his face as he composed himself with several deep breaths.

"Hey, it's all right." There was nothing but sympathy in Tom's light blue eyes, sympathy and growing moisture. He didn't hesitate to lay a supportive hand on Mark's shoulder. "Come on, let's get another drink. We can sit down and you can tell me where a young Kathryn Janeway snuck off to late at night after tip-toeing past her parents' bedroom."


Gretchen Janeway's smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she overheard a snippet of Mark telling Owen's son some of Kathryn's teenage antics. She continued her course past the kitchen to the back porch. She was surprised and not just a little concerned when she saw Phoebe with Seven underneath the large oak tree Kathryn had loved so much as a child. Gretchen could almost see a six year old Kathryn climbing the large oak in order to sit on a dense branch and escape her little sister that Kathryn would call "meddlesome".

She was brought back to the present when Phoebe made her way steadily to her location seated on the bench swing. Her youngest daughter had a blush to her features, but she didn't look as upset and angry as she had earlier in the day. Perhaps the blame Phoebe had placed on Seven was beginning to dissolve. Gretchen certainly hoped so. Anger wouldn't help Phoebe grieve or come to terms with her loss, it would just eat away at her and she would never be able to resolve her own feelings regarding her sister. Perhaps Phoebe needed to talk with someone, professionally. Perhaps, Gretchen thought warily, so did she.

Phoebe didn't say a word as she sat next to Gretchen on the bench and embraced her tightly. Gretchen returned the comfort as her own arms wrapped around the shaking form of her daughter. They had grieved for Kathryn before. When Starfleet had deemed that Voyager had been destroyed. But that hadn't been so definite, so heart-breaking. Both she and Phoebe had sworn to themselves, at least that if anyone could do the impossible it would be Kathryn. That somehow she had survived and would return to them. And she had. Was it not possible this time? Gretchen strengthened her hold as she realized that no, it wasn't possible. Whoever her daughter had been… she had been destroyed by what she was forced to become long before the Borg cube had been decimated.

She wiped the tears away from her daughter's cheeks after she was released from Phoebe's arms. "Mark's here, regaling Owen's boy with tales of Kathryn as a teenager. Why don't you go in there, tell them about the time you 'found' Kathryn's diary."

Phoebe nodded before she stood from the bench. A broad grin grew as she remembered that time nearly three decades ago. "I don't think I've ever seen her so mad. I thought her head would explode."

"Well, you didn't have to ask why the French were such sloppy kissers." Gretchen gave Phoebe's right hand a squeeze before her daughter entered the house.

The small smile on Gretchen's lips vanished as she turned back to set her gaze on Seven still standing beneath the big oak tree. The other woman had her back to Gretchen, but she had the distinct impression that Seven was fully aware that she was there. She debated whether she should just leave the young woman to her own thoughts or go to her. Gretchen also wondered what had transpired between Phoebe and Seven. Something told her that Phoebe's anger towards Seven had dissolved at least a little.

"Seven?" Gretchen pulled her shawl tighter around her chilled frame as she waited for Seven to face her. She had wondered if Seven had been either too lost in thought or ignoring her since her approach hadn't exactly been quiet.

"Do you also blame me? Hate me?" Seven didn't turn anything but her head. Her optical implant gleamed in the moonlight.

"Oh, Seven, no, no not at all." Gretchen walked closer to the small pond so that she could see Seven's features more clearly. As Seven turned to face her completely Gretchen's heart clenched at the sight of a woman in extreme pain. A trail of hot tears had left tracks across Seven's cheeks and a dark sorrow had fallen over her features.

"You are certain?"

"Yes, completely. You aren't to blame for what happened to Kathryn, Seven. I know that Phoebe is… angry, but she shouldn't be taking it out on you. I'm sure a part of her knows that. You would never have done anything to intentionally harm Kathryn, I know this."

"That is correct. But I did not accompany her to the Borg cube. I was unable to convince her not to go." Seven's eyes shifted from Gretchen to look once again reflectively at the small pond. "I cannot help but wonder if I could have somehow prevented the events that occurred."

A strangely familiar hand fell on Seven's shoulder, which brought her attention back to Gretchen. The warm hand that remained on her shoulder felt and looked so much like Kathryn's that it made Seven's chest ache with renewed pain.

"It's not me you need to ask forgiveness from… or Phoebe. Or anyone else for that matter." Gretchen gently turned Seven towards her so that she could place both hands on the other woman's shoulder having no idea the mixture of torture and gratification Gretchen's touch brought Seven. "It's you. You have to stop blaming yourself, Seven. I don't blame you and I am certain Kathryn wouldn't either. To start healing you must begin by forgiving yourself."

"What if I cannot?"

"Then you can't. But try. Please." Gretchen's eyes held fast as her voice turned quite earnest. "I know she wouldn't want you to be unhappy."

"There are many things I regret not saying to her. How… grateful I am for all that she has done for me. She was my constant guide to humanity. And I believe through her I have found it." Seven found it both comforting and distressing to look upon a woman who was so much like Kathryn. Seven allowed the sensation of comfort overshadow the distress as her words were uttered quietly, sincerely. "I grew to depend on her. Too much perhaps. Now that she is—I am… unsure as to how to function sufficiently without her."

"You carry on, Seven. And you aren't alone. You have friends." Gretchen pulled Seven into her slim arms as she whispered affectionately. "And family. I'll always be here for you, Seven. Always."

Seven's eyes filled with tears before they closed and she embraced Gretchen as tightly as she dared. Her voice was soft next to Gretchen's ear, heartfelt and grateful. "I do not know what to say. Thank you."

"I know you have a good heart, Seven." Gretchen loosened her hold so that she could bestow upon Seven one of the famous smiles known of her and her two daughters. "Kathryn wouldn't have fallen in love with you if you didn't."

Suddenly self-conscious, Seven averted her gaze to the ground before it was brought back to look upon Gretchen's elegant features when fingers turned her chin.

"You thought perhaps I didn't know. I am her mother." Gretchen's tone was lightly teasing as she liked where the conversation had turned. "And you loved her in return. I'll admit I haven't known you for very long, but I could see it plain as day the first time I met you."

"What you say is true." With no conscious thought on her part, Seven pulled the dark gray knit shawl around Gretchen's slightly shivering form. The action warmed Gretchen more than the actual material as she thanked Seven. "I regret that I did not have the… courage to state my feelings to her."

"I'm sure she knew, Seven. Unconsciously perhaps. Or perhaps she didn't know that you were in love with her. But she certainly knew you loved her. That she was important to you." Gretchen felt an almost overwhelming feeling of sympathy for the woman before her who had loved her daughter so purely, who had possessed her Kathryn's tremendous heart like no one ever had, and Seven had in turn granted Kathryn possession of her own. To never be able to have that love realized… well, Gretchen could think of nothing more tragic than that. "And even though she's gone she'll always be a part of you. She's in your heart."

"I am sorry I could not save her." Seven's voice was uneven as hot tears filled her throat and heated her chest. "That I could not bring her back to you."

"Oh, Seven, I know you are." One slim hand cupped Seven's cheek gently, lovingly, as if the heartbroken woman before her was her own daughter. Perhaps she would have been if the fates had been kinder. "And… you did save her. She wouldn't have wanted to live as a force of death and destruction. I'm sure she was grateful to you for helping her defeat the Borg… one last time."

Thank you, Seven.

Seven knew it was impossible but she had the unmistakable feeling that Kathryn Janeway was near. So close to her that she could almost smell her subtle perfume. Feel her blue gaze on her and the smile her mind had conjured up that held mischief and affection. And then the sensation was gone and Seven felt cold, empty, and incomplete.

Gretchen's frantic voice brought Seven out of her reverie suddenly. The weight of the implants in Seven's slim form had forced Gretchen to lower them both to the earth when Seven had went stiff, with wide blue eyes, and then quickly proceeded to faint.

"Seven, are you all right?" Gretchen was relieved when Seven's eyes opened and an almost desperately disappointed look filled the icy blue gaze.

"Yes. I am all right. I apologize if I frightened you." Seven stood uncomfortably as she brushed away the last strands of hope that when she would open her eyes she would find herself in Voyager's sickbay, the vessel still traveling through the Delta Quadrant, and the last two years were just a dream. That Captain Janeway would be peering worriedly down at her as she had so many times before. That Kathryn would still be alive.

"Let's get you inside. You need to eat something. You're skin and bone." Gretchen brought her shawl around Seven as she led her towards the house. She barked out a surprised laugh when Seven added that she was also made of metal. Though if the former Borg drone had meant it as a joke only Seven could really say.

Even if they would have been allowed the awareness of the two individuals standing by the small pond, Gretchen and Seven were too far away to hear a husky voice tinged with reproach. "You shouldn't have done that."

An equally husky voice filled with remorse answered back. "I know."

CHAPTER 10

Somewhere

"You can't move forward if you keep going back to them, Q." The imposing dark redheaded woman, a member of the immortal and nearly omnipotent Q Continuum, had a reprimanding tone to her voice that reminded the listener of an exasperated teacher with an unruly student. Which, Kathryn Janeway mused, she supposed she was.

"I told you not to call me that." Janeway's voice was just as exasperated as she placed her hands on her hips in a show of defiance. "That's not my name."

"Am I supposed to call you Kathryn? Or Kath? Or Goldenbird? Or Katie-bug? Or Katie? Or how about Janeway? Or Admiral? Is Captain more to your liking?" Q's femininely low voice was a drawl of derision before she tried to moderate it to a less contemptuous tone. "You aren't any of those people any longer. Kathryn Janeway is in the past. To those who knew her she is dead, gone, and buried and that is where she will remain. You, however, have evolved. Destiny and those who control it have seen it fit to charge you with the task of undoing what you have done and doing what you have yet to do. And as much as I know you don't believe in destiny, well… frankly it doesn't matter whether you believe in it or not. Your destiny doesn't need your belief to make it real. To make it have consequence. To be inexorable."

"If that's true then I wish destiny would hurry up and tell me what it is I am meant to do." Kathryn Janeway had never believed in fate. She had always believed she steered her own course and now that she was this new entity the person once known as Kathryn Janeway still fully believed that. So, waiting around in a vast nothingness listening to lecture after lecture from Q was becoming tiresome, infinitely so.

"Certain events must transpire before your involvement will be required. Until then you have much to learn and to unlearn." Q looked disapprovingly at the choice of physicality Q had chosen. It was Kathryn Janeway right down to the last freckle. How uninspired. Though she had to admit she had kept the human female form she had adopted long ago when she had first encountered Captain Janeway onboard Voyager to provide this new being before her with familiarity, a comforting image. "The first thing you need to unlearn is thinking of yourself as Kathryn Janeway. You are Q. And you will be for eternity."

"Well…" The entity that still thought of herself as Kathryn Janeway looked around at the abysmal nothingness that surrounded her and then back to her guide to Q-ness. The Q who had sought mortality onboard Voyager, Quinn, was brought to her thoughts as she attempted to merely conceive of an acceptance of a life of immortality, especially with the maddening woman before. "Damn."

"You wouldn't like eternity in a comet, I assure you of that." There was no amount of irony in Q's voice as she looked quite seriously at Q.

"You know what else I don't like, having you in my head." Perhaps she was being ungracious since she had in fact been saved from certain death by Q. But she couldn't help it, she still thought of herself as Kathryn Janeway no matter what form she had been changed into. Her appearance just emphasized that point though she was a bit disturbed that she was garbed in her old red and black uniform and that she had even materialized her captain's pips. What that said about her subconscious she didn't exactly know nor was she in the mood to explore it. Her eyes narrowed as she looked upon the perpetually smug Q before her.

"Then stop me." Q tried not to sound as exasperated as she felt. She knew she probably failed and didn't really care all that much. Q was just as frustrating as the human woman she used to be. Perhaps more so because Q knew what the other Q could be capable of if she would just relieve herself of the constraints of human thought and considerations regarding reality and ability. "Don't try to stop me, just stop me."

"I—" Janeway's pursed lips and scrunched brow displayed her own uncertainty. "Am I doing it right now?"

Q sighed a long suffering breath. "No."

It was of course unbecoming a Starfleet Admiral to stomp around indignantly, but the being that had once been one saw nothing wrong in doing it now. She threw her hands up in the air in annoyance before she looked pointedly at her sole companion. "Well, how the hell am I supposed to stop you then?"

"Just… do it." Q began to wonder why she had been given the task of shepherding this new form of Q that had been given its existence by the Continuum. And then she thought of q and knew why. Kathryn Janeway had once given her life through a son and now she was compelled to return the favor.

"I never thought I'd say this but you're even more infuriating than Q." Janeway's voice lingered with annoyance on the single letter name. With her hands on her hips she glared with frustration at this Q.

"Yes, well, he's softened with age hasn't he?" Q couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret that Q and q weren't aware that under the direction of the Q court she had extracted the essence of Kathryn Janeway from her mutilated corporeal form. And that through the power of the court a new Q was born. A Q that was destined to resolve the disruption Kathryn Janeway's transformation into a new kind of Borg Queen, a new dawning for the Borg Collective itself, had created within the cosmic threads of destiny. A disruption that needed to be resolved or all could be lost.

The former Starfleet Captain thought back to the last time she had spoken to Q alone, almost three years ago onboard Voyager after the situation with q had been resolved. Q had still infuriated her with his games and trickery, but she had to admit she had felt something akin to friendship with him then and she had definitely felt affection for q. She had also seen in Q something unexpected, she had seen unselfishness and true love. This was a being who loved the life it had created and she hadn't been able to ignore the evidence of how much the once rebellious and perilous Q had changed.

"Yes. I suppose he has."

Feeling as though they were getting off-topic, Q raked over the other Q's form critically and with disapproval in her hazel glare. "Why do you maintain that form? Wear that unsightly uniform? I would think seven of your years of nearly never taking it off would have made you tired of it."

"I—it's just what I feel most comfortable in." She wondered why that admission made her feel uneasy.

"I see." There was a knowing expression on Q's features before she transported herself and the other Q to another time and place.

The person who had once been Kathryn Janeway was startled when the nothingness that had surrounded her was replaced by the bridge of Voyager complete with members of her former crew, except they were all motionless in time. And she knew exactly the precise moment they were frozen in. She saw the woman she had been seated in the captain's chair about to command Tuvok to fire a volley of transphasic torpedoes in order to obliterate the Borg sphere Voyager was contained within on the threshold of making it back to Earth.

"Why have you brought me here, Q?" She didn't think this was merely a manifestation. No, she knew Q had actually transported the two of them to this particular time and place. She just didn't know why and felt even more discomfort at the fact that perhaps she didn't want to know.

"She is on the brink of completing her precious mission, of accomplishing what someone with such a miniscule existence could call a monumental achievement. You are stuck in this moment." Q moved away from her impromptu student in favor of the identical woman seated unmoving in the captain's chair. "Why? Why is Kathryn Janeway so unsettled at this exact moment? She is almost afraid, but not of the Borg. No, she was truly an arrogant little bipedal specimen. She knew she would triumph over the Borg as she had an improbable amount of times before. And yet she still feels fear. Tell me why."

Janeway's pointed gaze remained on Q, she didn't dare look at anyone else for fear of the pain it would cost her to do so. Her voice was a low growl of discontentment. "You have all the answers apparently. You tell me."

"Let's stop playing games. We both know what Kathryn Janeway was afraid of. Or should I say who she's afraid of." Q watched with an almost sympathetic expression to her features as the other Q looked hesitantly from her to the former Borg drone that manned Voyager's secondary tactical station behind the two command chairs. "No, not Seven… or her misguided association with Tattoo Boy."

Q had known quite well that Kathryn Janeway had been deeply in love with Seven of Nine and that the ex-Borg would have unequivocally returned such affection if it had ever been offered to her. It was so tragically human that she almost wanted to weep since this unrequited love story had quite the dramatic finish; one even she thought was a bit unjust. But the universe wasn't necessarily a just place so the demise of Kathryn Janeway due in part by Seven's actions still remained unchanged.

"Then WHO?" Janeway was getting loud and she knew it, but she was without care. Who would she be disturbing besides the infuriating Q before her?

"I hate having to spell everything out for you…" Q rolled her eyes as she tried to calm her voice as best she could though a hard unforgiving edge touched it due to her growing impatience. "…Captain, but it seems that Kathryn Janeway died long before she was transformed into the Borg Queen."

"That's absurd." Janeway was irritated but did feel comforted when Q returned their surroundings to nothingness rather than the ship she had so loved.

"Janeway was so worried about how everyone else would adjust after Voyager reached the Federation. The holographic doctor. The Maquis. Icheb. And of course, Seven of Nine." Q took on the bearing of a class lecturer as her pointed gaze rested on her lone student. "Janeway never thought, never considered that she would find it difficult to be back in the Alpha Quadrant, back on Earth. Or to rejoin the ranks of Starfleet. To reconnect with her family. To be Kathryn instead of Captain."

"The first year it was easier to hide her discomfort. There was the Borg virus and the hologram rebellion. She was even able to keep in touch with some of her former crewmembers and had them and her family mostly convinced, for awhile at least, that she had acclimated herself quite nicely to this new reality she found herself in. But the truth was she felt stifled by being an Admiral. She felt trapped on Earth and within the confines of the high brass station she was given it almost felt strangling. She thought her family had changed when in fact it was she who had changed in those seven years, and that made it nearly impossible for her to connect with her mother and sister. They became like strangers to her because that is exactly what she had become to them."

"And then there's Seven. Why did you touch her instead of Gretchen Janeway? Did you not think perhaps the mother of Kathryn Janeway would have also benefited by your misguided attempt to provide comfort?"

Janeway felt an overwhelming sense of regret that she hadn't tried to give comfort to her mother or her sister or the rest of the mourners, but all she had been able to see, to focus on, was Seven. She could see the pain that was held within Seven. It was like a brilliant fire that burned brightest in her chest before it radiated out like tendrils to the rest of her body. She had wanted to take that pain away and before she could stop herself she was with Seven, touching her with what constituted as her mind as incorporeal is it was, and had felt an almost debilitating emptiness when she couldn't feel anything at all. She no longer truly existed on that plane nor was she capable of transubstantiating or involving herself with the mortal world beyond mere awareness. It was already becoming an unbearable existence. To be on the outside looking in.

"That's why you need to let go of the part of you that still believes you have a place with these… beings. You are now a god onto these mortal people. Never forget that." Despite having lived for billions of years Q was not a patient being, but she did attempt to keep her voice not unkind. Kathryn Janeway wasn't technically even buried yet so she knew it would take time for Q to accept her own departure from mortality. But destiny wouldn't wait forever and much needed to be done in order for Q to be prepared to meet her fate. "You can never go back to them. Even if the Continuum would allow it, which I assure you they will not, you have no place with them. And I think deep down you know… you never really did."

Janeway tried not to let the truth of Q's words and their effect show on her features or in her thoughts but she couldn't fool herself. She had never been content, fulfilled, or satisfied by anything in her life. She had always wanted more. She had always needed impossible challenges so that she could find impossible solutions… on her own, independent and self-realizing. She wondered, truly wondered for the first time that perhaps it had been fate that had stranded Voyager in the Delta Quadrant. Perhaps she had always been a bit player in a cosmic drama, only now she was a much more important participant.

"Don't you see how restrictive your perception is made by this image of yourself, these confines of name and appearance? You are above all of those petty things. All you need to do is be above it. You are Q. You have a new existence to explore. A new way of experiencing the universe in a manner Kathryn Janeway couldn't have even hoped to begin to attempt to contemplate understanding. You were once a scientist, an explorer, you now have infinity to explore, countless planets to observe, trillions of species to encounter. You know it's ironic, Q would have given you all of this and now I'm the one to travel with you."

"There is no Kathryn Janeway, there is now only Q. Imagine, and now you have the ability to imagine the once unimaginable, what you are now able to do. All you have to do is let Kathryn Janeway go. Be Q."

The entity that had been known as Kathryn Janeway had always strived for greatness, to make a difference, to be important. She was beginning to realize that was what was being offered to her, an offer that went far beyond her wildest dreams. She was a Q. She attempted to wrap her mind around that fact. A Q, in control of time, matter, and space. Oh, the things she could do with that kind of power. She would have what she had always wanted in a twist of irony, complete and utter control. Over herself and her reality. For the first time since she had spoken with Seven of Nine in Admiral Janeway's office a lifetime ago, she smiled.

"Yes. Embrace it." Q grinned encouragingly, the perpetual smugness she usually wore was replaced by a true sense of delight in what the other Q was experiencing. A rebirth. "You're Q."

The visage of Kathryn Janeway began to fall away in brilliant pinpoints of light that penetrated through breakages in the human façade. Q began to feel ethereal and insubstantial and at the same time a surge of sensations filled her as she felt for the first time Everything. The vast Universe suddenly became understandable, knowable, and touchable. As if it had just become a wild animal that she had learned how to tame. She looked to her companion whose human appearance had also been replaced by brilliance and intangibility. The Q in their "true" form were a magnificent, awe-inspiring sight to behold, one which no mortal being could ever hope to look upon and survive to tell the tale.

Q led Q away from the nothingness to the Continuum. Destiny's wheel continued turning.

CHAPTER 11

San Francisco

A metal encased hand brushed over the etched writing embedded in the white marble of the tall, gleaming pillar with an eternal flame placed on top. The hand continued to outline each letter as its owner read the words softly to herself.

"Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."

"William Ernest Henley." Deanna Troi kept her voice light and conversational as she moved in her usual graceful manner to stand next to Seven of Nine before the memorial, monument really, for Admiral Janeway. "Invictus. It's a beautiful poem."

"Yes." Seven let her hand drop to her side but she kept her eyes on the words she had just recited aloud in lieu of the ones written above the carved poem that read "Kathryn Janeway May 20, 2335-November 27, 2380". When she had her composure maintained once again as a mask of impassivity fell over her features, Seven turned to face the dark haired woman next to her. "Commander Troi, I apologize for my tardiness."

"That's all right, Seven." Deanna Troi had never met the illustrious Seven of Nine before the memorial service three days ago, but she had heard much regarding the former Borg drone that had been liberated from the Collective by the then Captain Janeway and the crew of Voyager. What Troi had been told by the reputable sources of Tuvok and Captain Picard was that Seven was brilliant, tenacious, and, perhaps unassumingly, kind-hearted.

The first time Troi had seen Seven she had been nearly overwhelmed by the complex and varying emotions that had emanated strongly from the seemingly aloof and impassive woman whom Troi had also heard rather unkind remarks about from more refutable sources. She had heard murmurings that Seven was incapable of feeling, of emotions, that she was cold, abrasive, and still very much Borg. Troi knew nothing could be further from the truth. And she wouldn't even need to be an empath to know it. She could see it in the haunted look that cast darkness over Seven's features. Hear it in how Seven's voice would turn quiet and reverent at times and then completely filled with despair when discussing one single individual. Kathryn Janeway.

As she led Seven in silence across the grounds of the Presidio to her makeshift office within Starfleet Medical, Deanna thought about when her lifelong friend and confidant Beverly Crusher had taken her aside to speak with her in private regarding Seven of Nine after Admiral Janeway's memorial service.

"How long will the Titan be at McKinley Station for its refit?" Beverly's warm, but firm grasp on Deanna's forearm kept the two women quite close to one another so that their words would not be overheard by any member of the large concentration of people, mostly Starfleet personnel.

"It's been through a lot. Will wants the whole ship overhauled, probably about three weeks. Maybe more. He wants to provide shore leave for the crew." Deanna felt concern mingling with anxiousness from Beverly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's Seven." Beverly's green eyes almost compulsively moved to the woman she spoke of. The former Borg drone stood with members of Voyager's crew and though she maintained a calm and contained air, Beverly knew better. "I was hoping you could talk with her."

Deanna's gaze followed Beverly's. As she did she attempted to block the barrage of emotions emanating from the multitude of people surrounding her to focus solely on Seven. What Deanna found brought hot tears instantly to her dark brown eyes. "Of course."

"Thank you." Beverly produced a slim gray PADD from the inner pocket of her white dress uniform tunic. "This is the report. For your eyes only."

"Understood." Deanna took the proffered PADD and slipped it into her own inner pocket. "How's the Captain?"

"Oh, you know Jean Luc…"

In fact Deanna did and she could see his usual reticence in showing too much emotion clearly from his rigid posture as he talked with Admirals Paris and Patterson. "How are you doing, Beverly?"

"I wish the damned Borg would just be destroyed completely." Anger at what the people she loved and hadn't even known had experienced at the hands of the Borg made Beverly's voice low and gravely. "All they do is leave pain and devastation wherever they go. What kind of existence is that?"

"I'm not sure." Deanna knew a little of what had happened when the Borg cube had initially entered Sector 001 en route to Earth. She knew that Beverly had been face to face with the Borg Queen and had almost been killed, and all had been so close to being lost. "I don't know if we'll ever know their motives. I'm not sure if we could understand them even if we did."

Beverly noticed Jean Luc Picard standing alone in front of the tall pillar with a contrite expression. With a hug and a few kisses on one another's cheeks, Deanna was left alone. She moved to a secluded bench away from the bustle of people before she pulled the PADD from her coat.

Whatever Deanna had expected to find in the report Beverly had given her paled in comparison to the tragic tale that was contained within the seemingly dry account. She wondered if perhaps she would be required to take a leave of absence from the Titan if she truly wanted to take on Seven as a client.

With a shuddering sigh Deanna replaced the PADD and stood from the bench. With shaky hands she smoothed down her white dress coat before she located Seven in the crowd, which wasn't actually too difficult of a task. She wiped away any emotion from her expression as she moved steadily through the throngs of people towards where Seven stood with Tuvok and other members of Voyager's former and present crew.

Deanna softly expressed her condolences to the crew that had just lost their beloved leader before she asked Seven for a moment of her time.

"Commander Troi, you are a counselor are you not?" Seven kept her voice and her gaze steady. If she was uncomfortable about being led away from her former crewmates she didn't show it in the least as she stood rigidly with her chin up and her hands clasped behind her.

Surprised that Seven was taking the lead, Deanna's reply came out more uncertain than perhaps it should have. "I—I am."

"I believe I am in need of your services." Seven had been told by Gretchen Janeway that seeking professional help was something she should perhaps consider; that Gretchen was considering it for herself and would propose it to Phoebe as well.

Seven had been skeptical and uneasy, but Gretchen had affected her with words about healing, about "carrying on", about expressing her feelings to someone who held no judgment, only compassion and kindness. It had been Commander Tuvok, who had agreed with the logic of Gretchen Janeway's words, who had finally convinced Seven. Tuvok had also suggested just this individual to assist her. Deanna Troi.

Commander Troi was taken aback by Seven's admission and then she realized perhaps she shouldn't be. Seven was of course an individual, but perhaps she didn't have the preconceived notions some people had regarding psychiatric medicine. "When would be a good time for you, Seven?"

"At your earliest convenience, Commander." Though Seven's voice was on the surface flat, Deanna detected a faint feeling of impatience from the other woman.

"I'll need to set up an office. That could take a few days." Deanna's regretful voice trailed off at the end.

"Could my living quarters not be sufficient?"

"I'd like us to talk in a more neutral setting. Let me see if I can pull a few strings at Starfleet Medical." Deanna refrained from letting her hand fall reassuringly on Seven's shoulder. "There are a few people there who owe me a favor. I'll see what I can do and contact you tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Acceptable."

So, now three days later, she was sitting in one of Doctor Pulaski's many adjunct offices with Seven of Nine. This was only their second session and Deanna hoped Seven would be more forthcoming than she had during their first.

Deanna crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands loosely on top of her knee as she watched Seven lower herself rigidly into the dark brown leather bound chair.

"How many times have you visited Admiral Janeway's memorial?" Deanna purposefully allowed her voice to become light and as open as she could make it.

"Twelve times." Seven's answer was automatic before she considered it uncertainly which showed in her voice. "Is that excessive?"

"Do you feel that it is?"

"No."

Deanna smiled gently. "How do you feel when you visit the memorial, Seven?"

"It is difficult to put into words all that I feel." Seven thought about why she felt compelled to visit the construct that had been erected in Kathryn Janeway's honor. It was illogical for her to feel anything when in the presence of the object, but she did all the same. "I am not sure why, but I feel… comfort when I am there. It is strange that an inanimate object can create an emotional response."

"Are there other objects, places maybe, that make you feel similarly to when you are at the memorial?"

Deanna watched with questioning eyes as Seven removed a before unseen chain from around her neck. Attached to the chain was a single light blue isolinear chip.

Deanna picked up the makeshift necklace from the desk as gently as she could. Instinctively she knew that she should be extremely careful regarding the chip presented by Seven. "What is contained in this, Seven?"

"They are personal logs." Seven didn't avert her eyes, but a jaw muscle twitched that showed her unease.

"Whose logs are these, Seven?" Unusually Seven didn't answer her direct question so Deanna tried again though with an even lighter tone. "Are they Admiral Janeway's?"

"Yes. They are from her time onboard Voyager." Seven didn't add that she had not been able to retrieve personal logs from Admiral Janeway's database… yet. "They give me… comfort. But they also cause me pain. It is difficult to understand how something can provide both."

"Could you be more specific? Which words cause you pain, Seven?"

Seven considered how she would respond when viewing the logs, seeing Kathryn's image and hearing her voice. She felt an ache in her chest at just contemplating listening to Kathryn's words. "All of them."

"I'm wondering why you watch them then if they cause you so much pain." Deanna carefully handed the isolinear chip back to Seven who took it just as gently in her hands before she put the chain around her neck and hid the chip beneath her Starfleet uniform.

"I feel… connected to her when I watch them." Seven seemed to be grasping for an explanation as her brow creased in concentration. "I—I do not feel so alone."

"That's understandable." Deanna leaned forward in her chair, her voice and expression compassionate and open. "Seven, sometimes when we lose someone we love it's consoling to have something to remember the person by, to hold on to so that we don't feel like that person is truly gone."

"Gretchen said Kathryn will always be a part of me." Seven brought her metal mesh covered hand to her chest above where the isolinear chip rested against her skin. "That I hold Kathryn in my heart. I understand that to mean my love for her will never vanish even though she has ceased to be. If that is true then how do I 'carry on'?"

"I encourage you to give yourself time to come to terms with Admiral—with Kathryn's death." Deanna's kind smile didn't quite reach her dark brown eyes. "Though I would agree with Gretchen that Kathryn will always be with you."

"How do I move forward when my thoughts are preoccupied by her constantly? It is… difficult to function this way." Seven's voice trailed off uncertainly at the end.

"I know you're feeling… discouraged, but there isn't any set time that grieving ends. You'll always remember Kathryn, how important she was to you, but hopefully with time the sharp pain you are feeling now will lessen. That you'll find more comfort than pain in her words."

"What of the guilt?" Seven's voice lost its fragility as her eyes narrowed with her own self-loathing. "Will that lessen as well… over time?"

"It can. Especially if you can get to the root of why you feel guilty." Troi's voice never lost its professional objectivity, its lightness, its compassion. "Do you feel responsible for Kathryn's death?"

"I was the one who carried the Endgame Virus."

"Yes, but who allowed its deployment?" Troi knew what Seven was going through aside from losing someone she loved. She was experiencing survivor's guilt. "It wasn't you was it, Seven?"

"No."

"Then who was it? Who allowed the Virus to corrupt the Borg systems if it wasn't you?" Deanna's voice was kept gently probing. "What was it that she said to you before you were… before she pushed you out of the Hive Mind?"

"She said… 'thank you, Seven'." Seven could feel hot tears form, but she kept them at bay with clenched fists and a rigid posture.

"What do you think she meant by that?" Deanna watched as the forever composed woman before her was unable to stop a single tear from escaping and rolling down her flushed cheek.

Seven knew exactly what Kathryn Janeway had meant, she knew full well both the overt and underlying feelings the woman had experienced right before she had been destroyed. Seven inhaled a deep shuddering breath as she ordered her thoughts and modulated her voice to hide the pain those last thoughts from Kathryn Janeway still caused.

"She—did not want to exist as the Borg Queen but knew she could not return to humanity. She had been… traumatized by the experience. By what she had been forced to do by the being that possessed her, used her." Seven's burning anger punctuated each of her words as she thought of the grotesque monstrosity the Borg had created out of Kathryn Janeway after they had mutilated her body and disfigured her mind. "She wanted the Borg Queen to be stopped, by me. I held within my body the instrument that killed her, and she thanked me. She was grateful that it was me who would be the one to stop her. She was… beautiful and unafraid. And despite what the Borg had done to her… I loved her, unconditionally. I tried to stay with her, to die with her. I thought that would be somehow right, but she would not allow it. She forced me from the Hive Mind. She forced me to survive. To live without her. To 'carry on'."

"You sound angry, Seven." Deanna tried not to sound surprised and worried that she had failed. But the vehemence from the usually impassive woman took her off guard.

"She never told me." Seven's voice lightened perceptibly due to Deanna's observation. "She had loved me. Been in love with me. For a long time. And she never told me."

"Do you feel anger because she never told you or because you never told her?" Deanna's voice was so nonjudgmental she almost sounded indifferent. Internally however she knew this was going to be Seven's break-though. Deanna knew from others that Seven was almost obsessed with efficiency, but this was almost impossibly fast progress. She wasn't going to stop it though.

"I do not know what you mean." That much was clear on Seven's bemused expression.

"Why do you think Kathryn never told you how she felt?" Deanna observed the perplexed look on Seven's face for a few more moments before she decided to add more than she usually would to lead Seven into a revelation. "Do you think she was… afraid?"

"Kathryn Janeway was not afraid of anything." The certainty in Seven's voice was so fervent it surprised even her. She looked self-conscious for a moment as she sat even more rigidly before she composed herself once again. "Why would she have been afraid to tell me?"

"I'm not sure, Seven." Deanna had to remind herself that Seven had spent the better part of eighteen years as a Borg drone and so her patience increased immensely. "Some people hide their feelings for fear of getting hurt, of being rejected, or they worry that they are placing themselves in a vulnerable position. You must have had a reason why you didn't tell her how you felt."

"On board Voyager I did not believe she would be willing to embark on a relationship with me." Seven looked contrite as she recalled who she had sought out as a poor substitute. "I also feared that she would not return my feelings. So instead I began to 'date' Chakotay shortly before Voyager returned to the Alpha Quadrant. Our liaison ended before the homecoming celebration. I had decided that I needed to experience living on Earth independently and that our association was not what I desired. At that point Captain Janeway became an Admiral. The Borg virus, Admiral Covington's treachery, the holographic rebellion, and insuring Icheb and my freedom occupied much of her time. After which she became increasingly distant. More… difficult to contact. In the last sixteen months we have only spoken on forty-seven separate occasions, thirty-nine of which were regarding strictly Starfleet related issues. On Voyager, we used to speak daily about a multitude of topics and played Velocity once a week. I… missed her constant presence."

"Do you believe she distanced herself purposefully?"

"I—I am not certain." Seven thought back to what the Borg Queen had said to her the first time she had seen what Janeway had been turned into while on the Pride, Grim Vargo's vessel.

"There is no reason for me to desire release. All is clear now. How… lonely I was. How very alone. Now you are alone. How do you tolerate it?"

Seven's chest was suddenly gripped with painful regret. She hadn't known that Kathryn Janeway felt lonely, that she was being harmed by her own enforced solitary, if Seven had known she would not have had allowed Kathryn's self-imposed seclusion.

Deanna used her training to preserve her professional demeanor, but she couldn't help but feel the other woman's grief. "Seven?"

"I left her." Seven's icy blue eyes were alight with new awareness. "She never told me because I abandoned her. I wanted to show her how far I had progressed as an individual. I wanted her to be proud of me. I thought embarking on a romantic relationship, seeking my independence would… impress her. I had assumed she distanced herself from me, but it was my doing. I left her alone."

"Seven, you are carrying around a great deal of guilt and regret. From what you have told me so far I don't believe Kathryn Janeway would… understand why you feel this way. She seemed a woman who chose her own path, controlled her own fate." Deanna leveled her brown gaze at Seven knowing the other woman wouldn't benefit by a soft touch. "I'm not suggesting that what you're feeling isn't allowed or what you truly feel but I want you to try to let go of your shame and guilt because no one blames you, but you."

Deanna was startled when Seven swiftly and unexpectedly stood up from the plush leather chair. Seven's stance was rigid, but nonthreatening. "Our time has expired. I must return to Starfleet Academy."

With an understanding nod, Deanna also stood.

"I will… see you tomorrow, Commander Troi." Seven nodded once as a departing gesture before she left the office.

Seven's shoulders moved minutely, which along with bright wide eyes was the only outward indication of her discomfort. She unconsciously pressed her hand to her chest where the isolinear chip was hidden as she walked out of Starfleet Medical into the bright San Franciscan sunlight. It was at that moment as she walked past various Starfleet personnel and cadets alike towards the large metal structures, which made up the campus of Starfleet Academy that she finally had the realization that as unjust as it seemed, life went on.

A shuddering breath expelled powerfully from Seven as she passed the tall pillar. She couldn't help it, she stopped, turned back and then stood before the monument. She brushed the palm of her right hand across the etched lettering before she let her hand drop by her side. She contemplated the words Commander Troi had advised her with. They angered her, but she couldn't deny that there was a certain truth in them as well.

"No one blames you, but you."

Gretchen had said something similar as Deanna Troi and Seven tried to accept both women's pardoning words, but it was difficult since she still felt responsible. She just didn't know how to stop blaming herself. Perhaps she never would. And was it relevant if she did or didn't. Kathryn Janeway would still be gone and Seven of Nine would remain as she was now, alone.

CHAPTER 12

The Einstein

The vessel traveling towards the Delta Quadrant used to be a Nebula-class Federation starship, but now looked more like a Borg probe since its entire outer hull was covered in the intricate network of circuitry and green lights that bespoke Borg technology. The occupants within also used to be part of the Federation, but like their ship they had been assimilated by the Borg, their organic bodies embedded with metal implants and nanoprobes infiltrated every part of their inner workings. They were Borg. And they had a mission.

The drone who had been Captain Howard Rappaport peered through the milky green fluid to the being inside the specially constructed maturation chamber that was laid horizontally on a strong titanium pedestal three feet off the floor. When he had been Rappaport he had thought the physical appearance of the being beneath the transparent aluminum had been attractive when she had been human, though imposing, but now he knew what he felt for her. Love. His hand rested on the transparent barrier as if he could touch the being laid beneath it as he and the rest of the small collective onboard the Borg vessel vowed that they would succeed in their mission. Despite their circumstances and limited power they would be successful. They would bring Her back.

CHAPTER 13

San Francisco

Lieutenant Commander B'Elanna Torres walked steadily across the bustling campus, which was made much easier since most people tended to make room for the compact though fiery woman. She adjusted the strap of her engineering kit as she cataloged all the things she still needed to do before she could return to her Starfleet issued apartment where her husband and baby girl were presently enjoying his shore leave. After all that had happened she was happy and relieved to see the both of them smiling again. She sighed as she forced herself to overcome the growing feeling of sorrow that threatened to break her stride, especially when she saw the tall gleaming pillar of marble and the eternal flame glowing at the top that was Kathryn Janeway's memorial.

Now B'Elanna regretted agreeing to give the Doctor's mobile emitter a check-up for she had successfully managed to avoid the monument to her former Captain for nearly two weeks. Kathryn Janeway's memorial service had taken place twelve days ago, and B'Elanna still thought the whole affair was against everything Janeway had been about. The woman did nothing for the pomp and circumstance. Janeway did what she did because she thought it was the right thing to do. All those Admirals, some B'Elanna was sure were just there for the PR and photographs, had made her stomachs turn with their faux sympathy and their overly planned speeches. She knew she hadn't been the only one bothered by the ceremony since her husband had been in an uncharacteristic rage when they had returned to their apartment. He hadn't yelled or thrown things around like she tended to do, but he had been quiet, his face flushed, and he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything before he had slept the next day away and began coming out of his bad mood.

Before B'Elanna realized her actions, she was standing in front of the white marble structure with her fingers brushing over the engraved writing.

"Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms but the horror of the shade, and yet the menace of the years finds, and shall find, me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."

The pads of B'Elanna's fingers brushed over the word "captain" slowly as emotion filled her chest with a burning sensation caused by a mixture of anguish and affection. "Well, Captain, you got us home. We just didn't know what to do once we got here. We didn't know what to do… without you."

"Commander Torres."

Startled, but regaining her steadiness quickly, B'Elanna turned slowly to meet Seven's questioning icy blue gaze with her own dark brown eyes. "Seven."

Seven of Nine could be said by many as not being B'Elanna Torres' best friend. They had butted heads on several occasions when they had both been onboard the then lost Voyager and had nearly come to blows a few of those times, though it most likely would have been B'Elanna who would have thrown the first punch. But as B'Elanna looked at the woman before her now she barely recognized the cold, brusque, arrogant woman with her tightly coiled hair and obnoxious biosuits that Seven had been on Voyager. Seven looked almost fragile, definitely vulnerable, and less coifed than B'Elanna had ever seen her. Seven's blonde hair was thickly curled and tied back pragmatically though crudely into a ponytail. The Starfleet uniform still clung to her curvaceous form but not as overtly as the biosuits she had last worn nearly three years ago. Aside from the implants above her left eye, next to her right ear, and on her left hand Seven looked… human. Seven onboard Voyager certainly never had that haunted look she had now.

The rather broken expression on Seven's features and the way a hand covered her chest as if in pain or protecting something fragile beneath shattered something within B'Elanna. She couldn't dislike Seven anymore as she once had. They had both lost someone important to them, B'Elanna had lost two, and in that pain they were the same. She refrained from touching the other woman but she did adjust her features to one of openness, of friendship.

"How are you doing, Seven?" It was a rather insipid question, but B'Elanna wasn't sure how to begin. The look Seven was giving her was starting to make her feel uneasy and self-conscious.

"I am functioning." Seven looked past B'Elanna to the multitude of notes, pictures, flowers, and other gifts that had accumulated around Kathryn's memorial and something hot burst in her chest.

"What the hell are you doing?!" B'Elanna pushed the woman back and was grateful that the memorial had been placed in a rather secluded area a distance away from the busy campus. She hadn't been able to stop Seven's initial anger as flowers that obscured some of the white marble were thrown aside.

"These… people did not even know her. Their feelings are false." Seven shrugged off B'Elanna's hold, but did not continue her aggressive action.

"Yeah, that's true but that doesn't mean she didn't spark something within them. She was a great hero for the Federation. I'm sure she's an inspiration to a lot of people, Seven. And besides, she did save humanity after all. A few flowers are pretty small thanks when you think about it." B'Elanna's good-natured smile faded quickly since she could see Seven was rigidly maintaining her resentment.

"I wish to be alone." Seven's dismissal was clear as she stood in front of the monument and pressed her palms against the cool marble with its embedded lettering.

B'Elanna's dark eyes flashed with anger as her fist and jaw clenched tightly. She thought of where she was, what they were standing in front of and forcefully pushed away her aggression. As she started to move away she couldn't help but turn back to look hard at Seven who had her back to B'Elanna. "She wasn't just for you, Seven. You weren't the only one who lost her."

Seven didn't turn anything but her head, sunlight glinted off her metallic implants. Her voice was cold and low. "You know nothing of what I have lost."

"Maybe that's true." B'Elanna took a few steps closer, conscious that they weren't that far away from campus. "Seven, you should talk to someone. It could help."

"I am already… talking to someone. It is not helping." Seven's fingers brushed past the letters she had touched a multitude of times before and each time she did she felt a burning heat grip her chest with sorrow.

"What about me?" The suggestion was out of B'Elanna's mouth before she had time to really think about it. But she did want to help. And perhaps it would help her as well.

The shifting of Seven's eyes indicated that she was contemplating the question. When she turned back completely to the monument B'Elanna knew she had failed.

"Commander Torres."

B'Elanna turned back to the monument to see Seven facing her fully. She watched a conflict take place across Seven's features before apparently the woman had formulated her words.

"B'Elanna. I… appreciate your offer." Seven's optical implant rose as she moved closer to the half-Klingon Commander. "You loved her?"

"Yes. I did." B'Elanna watched Seven nod minutely before she stopped to stand in front of her.

"She loved you in return." Seven's eyes lifted as she summoned up the multitude of entries Kathryn Janeway had logged while on Voyager that had been about B'Elanna Torres. Seven felt no jealousy for she knew that the love Kathryn had for B'Elanna had been different than what she had felt for her. "She had found a daughter in you and in her you found a mother. Did you know how proud she was of you, B'Elanna Torres? How much love she felt for you?"

B'Elanna ignored the tears that were falling from her wide brown eyes. Her voice was a hoarse whisper. "How do you know all this?"

Seven smiled a sad, small smile while she pulled the isolinear chip free of its confinement beneath the fabric of her Starfleet uniform. She kept the chain around her neck as she held up the lone blue piece of plastic and circuitry. "She told me."

"Seven… what is that?" B'Elanna had a pretty good idea of what was probably contained on that data chip and she didn't know whether to be excited at the wealth of information or to reprimand Seven on issues of decorum and privacy.

"They are her personal logs while on Voyager." Seven detected need in B'Elanna's dark eyes and despite her eidetic memory she was reluctant to do what she knew she should. With a soft sigh of resignation she carefully and slowly pulled the chain from her neck. "There are 2447 logs contained within and it will take you approximately ten days to watch them all."

"Seven… I—I can't watch these. I won't." B'Elanna held the chain away from her as she rejected Seven's offer. "They aren't for me."

Bemused, Seven took back the makeshift necklace. She held the chip in the palm of her hand as insecurity caused her voice to be sharp. "You believe it is wrong for me to have these."

B'Elanna shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not sure, Seven. I just know I can't. I'm… ill-equipped to see her. To hear her voice. At least for the time being. If they help you… cope then no, I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Do they? Help, I mean?"

"At times."

"Yeah, I figured." The corners of B'Elanna's lips pulled up for only a second as she nodded in understanding.

"Doctor to Commander Torres."

B'Elanna had almost forgotten why she was even at the Presidio. She slapped her combadge with some force. "Torres here."

"I might have the patience of a hologram but I do have other things to do today, Commander."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes at the irritation heavy in the Doctor's voice. "I'll be right there. Torres out."

B'Elanna had been about to ask Seven if she wanted to see an old friend, but the other woman had already moved away from her to stand close to the memorial and B'Elanna knew she had already been forgotten. Unobserved she moved away but not before she swore to herself that she would attempt to talk to Seven again within the next few days. Who knows, it might do them all some good to not distance themselves from each other and the memory of the woman who had brought them all together.