It was just starting to get hot.
Sunlight blazed on the beach, heating the fine white sand as the day broke. The ocean beat its slow rhythm on the shore. As Janeway walked along, listening to the waves lap against the sand, serenity settled on her face.
Her loose clothing whipped gently against her skin with the breeze…her feet sunk into the wet sand…the warmth of the sun settled on her cheeks….
This was exactly what she had come for.
No calls, no meetings, no press conferences, no interviews, no negotiations. No brass. No paperwork or deadlines.
No complaining.
The medical chief had ordered her to take leave knowing that she would never voluntarily do it, and now (though she would never admit it to him or anyone else), she was secretly grateful for the time off.
Fed up with Starfleet, that was for damn sure.
Maybe accepting the promotion was a mistake. This was not the first time the thought nagged at her, but it blossomed in the copious amounts of free time that vacation afforded her. When Voyager had returned, there were celebrations and inspiring speeches and media attention and a wave of overwhelmingly positive, triumphant emotion. She wondered now if maybe she had allowed herself to be carried away by this idealism against her better judgment.
Those positive feelings had disappeared a long time ago. It had been almost a year since Voyager's return, after all, and every indicator pointed to a stable, secure, even lucrative future for them all. But the current reality of her life at times drove her to long for the old days. To miss the pranks of Tom and Harry. Miss Chakotay's gentle wisdom. B'Elanna's cranky outbursts. The Doctor, Neelix's kindness. Tuvok. Seven.
Even though she'd received more than she could have dreamed upon their return, she found it intolerable, found her heart profoundly unfulfilled. And this vacation only magnified it.
Her feet carried her down the smooth shore, troubled thoughts only dissipating gradually with the tide and distance. She eventually sat down in the sand with a PADD, settling into an old Earth novel she'd been meaning to read. It was a vacation, wasn't it?
She left problem-solving for another time.
=A=
=A=
Seven's day began in streaks of irritation. Thirty minutes into her scheduled relaxation time, she found herself filled with energy and unable to simply rest. She called up reports, schematics, scholarly articles—anything to keep her mind occupied. Any excuse to shun the personal and attend to the professional was welcome at the moment.
Her new career as a Starfleet officer sprouted as soon as she stepped off Voyager. Many companies, both private and public, had offered her a variety of prestigious and well-paid positions. But in the end, she'd chosen Starfleet—it was one of the only familiar things that remained with her from Voyager as she set about making an entirely new life on Earth.
So, even on vacation, she combed through Starfleet-related messages, began making preliminary calculations for the new project she had been assigned to, and updated Starfleet on her progress.
After these tasks had been completed, she sent a message to Chakotay, informing him of her welfare and the events that had taken place so far. She did not particularly feel the need to do this, and would have preferred not to, but knew he would appreciate it. He frequently appreciated small gestures of caring…but the thought of this only gave her a sense of vague unease.
Seven sat back in the sleek chair, mind thankfully wandering away from personal concerns. Her eyes fell on the window overlooking the ocean. The day was bright and hot, perfect for the variety of watersports that Fero was known for. Had she felt more relaxed, she would have taken a walk down the way and paid for a small rental hoverboat.
But she could not relax. On the contrary, she felt increasingly stressed even as she completed her work.