Retiring to her spacious room was a treat tonight, Janeway decided. She activated the spout on the old-fashioned tub installed in the bathroom, making sure the water was toasty before sinking slowly into it. Her muscles ached after such a tense competition, and her emotional battery was drained. A bath would help heal the aches and pains.

Janeway's thoughts stayed glued to the events of the day, however. As much fun as it had been to race Seven, there remained the troubling issue of her marriage. Never in a million years would she have suspected that Seven's relationship with Chakotay was the cause of her evasion on the first night.

Well…maybe that wasn't entirely accurate, was it?

She'd have to admit that while she'd been sincerely happy for the couple, she hadn't ever truly understood how the match happened. Or who thought it was a good idea. But who was she to judge? Her own romantic life had been stifled for several years—rusty at best—and even barring that, she was not the most experienced person in matters of the heart. If Chakotay and Seven were in love, that was all that was important, wasn't it?

She grabbed the soap and the sponge and focused on washing the salt off of her skin, but couldn't shake her preoccupation with this subject.

Her thoughts briefly drifted off to experiences with Justin and Mark, then to the current state of her life. The fame that being Voyager's captain brought to her was enormous; she was well-known and admired by millions of people. The media was quick to plaster her face all over the news outlets for months and months, giving her more interviews than she could handle, and Starfleet was constantly contacting her about holding conferences in which she could share the information she'd gained or the new tactical data she could provide.

Sometimes it felt as though her life was like taking a long university course in public relations.

But one effect that this notoriety produced was an endless supply of suitors. Plenty of men—mature, intelligent, attractive men—pursued her, convinced of their ability to make her happy…but she was not ready. Several years of maintaining distance between herself and the people around her had left its mark. At this point in her life, she was not sure that she wanted to be with anyone at all; she had gotten used to the idea that she might be alone and she'd managed alright so far.

There was a time when Chakotay had seemed to enter into the realm of possibility. Kind, gentle, caring—she hadn't expected that combination would become attractive, but under the stressful circumstances of Voyager's journey, it apparently had. He reminded her of Mark in some ways…understanding and patient. In that sense, she could perhaps see why Seven would choose Chakotay; his calm personality would be exactly what Seven needed as she continued through the process of becoming more human.

So what had happened to Chakotay and Seven? Why would Seven have become so upset about their marriage?

The water in the tub was lukewarm, the night air languidly meandering through the open window of the room. It gave her no answers.

=A=

=A=

Seven prepared as best she could, not knowing exactly what was expected of her. The Admiral's place was upscale and likely housed an elite-only clientele. She selected the best shirt she'd packed for this trip, an elegant black blouse that allowed her a significant range of motion without being too loose or, conversely, hiding her slim figure. Perhaps it was Borg influence, but Seven had always preferred clothes that were practical as well as pleasing to the eye.

She slipped roomy black pants on, having discovered that she immensely enjoyed the sensation of the wind blowing the fabric across her skin. It made her feel…lighter, in some indefinable way. After applying only small hints of makeup to bring out her eyes, and wrapping a slim silver bracelet around her arm, she deemed herself ready.

Fero's sun had just set when she stepped out of her cottage, starting to make her way down the beach. The waves were high, fierce today. Seven smiled as she remembered why she was meeting with Janeway. A sudden urge to 'poke fun at' the Admiral struck her, and she made up her mind to do it as she greeted the older woman.

In the past two days, she had been able to complete several tasks in a burst of surprising productivity. Time spent with Admiral Janeway was well-invested, as she found herself more centered and at ease, more able to function.

As she set foot into the gigantic place that was Janeway's, she immediately noticed the bar sitting to the right. It was impossible to miss with such bright signage. Admiral Janeway waited outside, waving the blonde in.

"Seven, how have you been?"

This was her opportunity. "Fine, thank you. I have been savoring the memory of victory. And you, Admiral?"

Janeway glared up at Seven and her skillful goading. "Not quite that fine, but well enough," she groused. "I can see the win hasn't gone to your head."

Seven grinned.

"Now buy me a drink," the older woman commanded, hoping to wipe the smirk off of the blonde's face. "That's an order."

"With pleasure," the ex-Borg responded, completely unfazed. They seated themselves on the plush stools. "What would you like?"

"A Feran drink called nori, please. I highly recommend it."

"Very well. I will try it," Seven replied, waving down a bartender.

The nearest one, a burly Feran with small eyes and a wispy beard, ambled over to take their order. He smirked when Seven requested nori, but brought it quickly and without comment.

It was sweet, Seven was startled to note. But very pleasant. She took a few more swallows, which Janeway chuckled at. If nothing else, the Admiral thought, their night would be interesting at this rate. She took a sip from her own glass, reveling in the taste. They certainly knew how to mix drinks here.

In no time, the two were laughing about the old days again, discussing their dreams for the future, and sharing their feelings about the present.

"I can't stand Starfleet, Seven," Janeway told her, using a hand to prop up her head. "I love my work to death, but I just can't tolerate the bureaucracy. I secretly love this vacation…"

"I feel the same way about the media," the younger woman quickly replied. "I enjoy the projects I am assigned to, but I find it extremely irritating to deal with aggressive journalists and tabloid writers. I frequently fantasize about causing them bodily harm."

Janeway laughed, imagining Seven violently decking a journalist who happened to visit on the wrong day. She knew that the ex-Borg had received martial arts training and could more than handle herself.

"We have to get out of this rut, escape somehow! Besides, I want to command more than a desk and a secretary. I have more ambition than this…put me on another ship. Even deep space sounds appealing at this point…"

Seven nodded vigorously, able to empathize with the feeling of being trapped.

"I simply would like to get away from all of the attention, Admiral," the younger woman sighed. Then she gave a sidelong glance at Janeway. "Perhaps I will be forced to 'stow away' on your ship to escape," she ventured, smiling at the thought. "Ensure that there is room for one more in your crew manifest."

"You'd be well-received!" Janeway warmly placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. "I can always find a place for a competent astrometrics officer."

"Merely competent?" Seven faked indignation, a technique she had seen other humans frequently apply when joking with each other. "I was invaluable to you!"

Janeway chuckled at the time—long before she realized how true Seven's statement was.