"I can't figure you out," Beverly says. And Seven, who has long since given up any pretense of incuriosity, says, "Oh?"

"You fled Starfleet."

"As did you."

"You aided their—if not their enemies, certainly they weren't friends."

"As did you…."

"And yet, Captain Seven, here we are on your starship."

Seven rolls over, runs the tips of her fingers down Beverly's spine, sliding the rumpled sheet lower, lower. "Are you asking why I'm here, Admiral, or why you're here?"

"Oh, I know why I'm here," Beverly grins, mischievous. Happy. And she decides, for once, to let this be enough.