Predilections
 

It was the same as any other evening.  At least, any other evening since she'd left the planet. 

Kathryn sat alone in her quarters.  The puffy areas under her eyes had deepened to ugly black circles, her pasty skin hung loosely on her bones.  Her beautiful auburn hair was dull and hung in limp, stringy strands about her face.  Her demeanor was one of a woman who has seen and been through too much.  For the first time in her life, Kathryn Janeway appeared much older than she was.  Her spark was gone.  Clutched tightly in her right hand was a perspiring glass of her favorite drink, whiskey and soda.  Hours ago, she had come home and quickly shirked her work habit in favor of a more casual attire - indeed, the Captain now sat on the floor, leaning slightly back against her couch, knees to her chest, attired only in an old Starfleet Academy t-shirt and standard issue underwear.  She stared blankly in the direction of the door, her daydreaming interrupted only by frequent drinks from the glass.  This was, in fact, her fourth glass of the extremely potent mixture, though no one was counting.  Previously, the Captain had engaged in drinking only on social occasions, finding it entirely too convenient for a person who needs to forget the pressures of command.  Now, she did not know how she would function without the drink, which allowed her to make it through the dark and lonely nights without too much thinking.  Her alcohol-induced sleep was often the only rest she got that was free of nightmares - but anyone could see she still wasn't getting enough. 

The Captain had opted for a quick return to work after her "shore leave" on the planet's surface.  She didn't want her crew to have any lingering doubts about her ability to command, even though she herself certainly posessed quite a few.  She was grateful for the fact that her doubts were at least somewhat eclipsed by the conclusions she had come to on the planet's surface.  The simple truth was, she relied on these people more than she would've cared to admit; that was apparent from the intense feelings of utter seclusion and loneliness she felt when they were truly all gone.  The captaincy was lonely at times - in fact, previous to her self-imposed exile, she had found it an intensely and completely solitary place to be .  But she hadn't even known what that was, hadn't even dreamed, not until she faced the multitude of years stretching out before her without one single being to share it with.  Then, command didn't seem so bad, and she wondered what all her fuss had been about. 

So, she'd come back to Voyager, happy to be among people once again.  And she had promised herself - demanded of herself - that she would do this.  She would not let these people down again.  Problem was, she didn't really know how to do what she was supposed to be doing.  When had she forgotten how to be the Captain? And who was she supposed to listen to, herself or everyone else? What, was she supposed to suddenly become more involved with the crew now that she had learned this valuable lesson about true solitude?  That's what they all seemed to expect.  She tended to see things a bit differently.  She was still the Captain, still forbidden to fraternize with her crew.  And she was still alone.  Probably more alone than she had ever been before, though that made absolutely no sense.  Now, more than ever, she needed someone in her life to take care of her, to listen to her concerns and heartbreaks as Captain.  To be her friend, her lover.  Seven had demonstrated her desire to fill that role while they stood on the planet's surface.  But the Captain, who had been so overjoyed at the thought, was suddenly and fiercely reminded of her role once they returned to the ship.  She could not be in a relationship with the young Borg, no matter how much either of them wanted it.  No matter how much her senior staff thought she should.  Kathryn Janeway had been alone for far too long.  It simply wasn't in her nature to give in to her desires if she thought it conflicted with her duty.  As far as she was concerned, relationships, and the happiness they brought were best reserved for other people - other people who didn't have Starships to command. 

In the absence of that companionship, Kathryn felt herself floating back into the depression she'd gone to the planet to avoid.  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't keep the feelings of inadequacy at bay.  She had feelings for Seven, but captaincy forbade her from exploring them to the level she personally desired.  And, she had a ship to command, but her misery over her non-relationship with Seven and over her horrible mistakes as a Captain kept reaching out to overwhelm her in the dark.  Lately, the few hours she managed to sleep aboard the starship were nightmarish increments of time that were far from restful.  In fact, about a month ago, her dreams had begun to haunt her waking hours - a condition that the Doctor could do nothing to remedy.  So Kathryn had taken matters into her own hands, and she hadn't put the glass down since.  Of course, she couldn't drink while she was on duty.  But her duty shifts were getting shorter and shorter, and they were often punctuated by unnecessary outbursts toward one or another of her bridge crew.  Needless to say, the Captain did not see them as unnecessary or unprovoked; she felt perfectly justified in calling them to explain their mistakes.  No one else saw them as such, but they were so worried about losing their Captain again, that nothing had been said to contradict her many tirades - at least not yet. 

Kathryn was well aware of the negative effects of her current lifestyle.  However, she was still able to justify it by deluding herself into believing that this present state was preferable to taking up with Seven - which would completely compromise her Starfleet ideals.  A Starfleet captain, no matter where in the universe she was, could not be susceptible to such temptations.  If anything, the directive carried more weight here in the Delta quadrant, where it often seemed that Starfleet routines and protocols were the only thing that linked them to the Federation and to home.  This new fondness for hard liquor was merely a temporary crutch to help her get through the day without Seven, to help her maintain her command mask.  Right now, it was a necessary indulgence, the lesser of two evils - or so she thought. 

Tuvok was in the quarters of a high-ranking Vulcan he had never met.  The walls were adorned with famous Earth paintings and other paraphenalia which depicted abstract, intangible, and indeed, illogical concepts.  The young Vulcan of Voyager was not surprised at his surroundings.  He had, in fact, designed the holodeck program himself.  In his present situation, he found his Vulcan beliefs and practices strangely lacking.  Meditation, which had always provided him with the answers he sought, was ineffective.  He needed information that could not be found in his own experiences or in the various and numerous lessons he had learned as a student of the Vulcan way of life.  In this strange time, where he found himself prone to an emotionalism he did not understand, this was the only place he knew to go. 

An aged Spock regarded him from a chair across the room, his hands folded sedately in his lap. 
"Lieutenant, it is agreeable to see you." 

"Yes, Ambassador.  It is agreeable to see you, as well.  I have come to discuss a personal problem with you, one I hope you can assist me in solving." 

"It seems illogical for you to seek my advice.  It is well-known that I am partially human, and that I am prone to emotional responses when my friends are involved.  One who is completely Vulcan, as you are, necessarily approaches the table with an inadequate understanding of such...feelings.  Thus, I fail to understand how you would benefit from any advice I might offer." 

"Under normal circumstances, Ambassador, I would agree with your assessment.  However, these are not normal circumstances." 

"Neverthess, the answer you seek is probably available in Vulcan philosophical writings.  Am I to assume that you have exhausted that avenue of research?" 

"Not necessarily, Ambassador.  I doubt that the dilemma I am faced with has been an issue for our Vulcan forefathers." 

"Intriguing.  Please continue." 

"I have spent the past several years under the command of Kathryn Janeway, a human woman whom I respect greatly.  I also consider her my friend.  In the past, I have related to her as a person of kindred intellect and logic.  Recently, however, her actions have become increasingly illogical.  She does not perform her duties as Captain.  Indeed, she hardly seems like the same person.  I had always assumed that my admiration and affection for her were largely due to our similarities.  However, in the absence of those similarities, I find that my concern for her is undiminished.  She is still my friend, despite the fact that she has made the decision to act in this manner." 

"You are correct, Tuvok, this is most un-Vulcanlike behavior." The elder Vulcan's arched his left eyebrow, causing a display of wrinkles to appear on his forehead.  His lips drew back slightly in a good-natured smirk.  Then, as suddenly as it had come, the expression was gone, once again replaced by a quiet repose.  "Have you considered relieving her of duty?" 

The younger Vulcan nodded. "Approximately one month ago, the Captain demonstrated similar characteristics.  After the crew began demonstrating their anger with her, she summarily exiled herself to a planet.  The crew voiced their apprehension at continuing on without her, and we eventually persuaded her to return to the ship.  At that time, she was considering a relationship with a crewmember - something that apparently played a large role in her resumption of duty.  However, that relationship has not materialized, and this time her condition seems much worse." 

"So, you believe that Captain Janeway is suffering from unrequited love?" 

"No, Ambassador.  As a matter of fact, I am certain that the crewman, Seven of Nine, has very strong feelings for the Captain.  The relationship has foundered because of the Captain's perception of her duty.  She does not believe that she can be effective as a Captain if she fraternizes with a crew member.  I have attempted, on many occasions, to explain that many of Starfleet's rules and regulations, primarily this one, would not seem to apply to her situation.  After all, we are hundreds of light years from Federation space and from any civilian companionship that would normally be at her disposal." 

Spock's index fingers met on his pursed lips as he considered Tuvok's words. 
"To her, the situation may not be so easily remedied.  Compromising the ideals of the Federation is something not to be taken lightly.  Perhaps she feels that "overlooking" this Starfleet practice would be sufficient to cause other rules to be broken, as well.  If I were "in her shoes," I might be as reluctant as she is.  However, if she is not able to function adequately without this companionship, she must engage in it, regardless of the consequences.  First and foremost, she is the Captain.  She must be able to give her full attention to command." 

"I had come to a similar conclusion, but I was uncertain how to proceed, given the delicate nature of the situation." 

"Obviously, you must convince her that this relationship is the lesser of two evils." 

"I doubt Seven would appreciate such a characterization, but I concur.  However, the Captain no longer seems to appreciate the logic of the situation.  I have repeatedly endeavored to engage her in such discussions, but she is unwilling to debate it any further.  She is not the person I once knew."  Tuvok shook his head slowly from side to side.  "Nevertheless, I am not willing to leave this alone.  If I were in a similar situation, I am confident that Captain Janeway would do everything in her power to assist me - even if she had to compromise a few directives along the way." 

"Are you similarly willing?" 

Tuvok considered carefully, even though he had known it would come to this. 
"Yes, Ambassador.  I have exhausted all the traditional options." 

"In that case, here is my suggestion...." 

"Doctor to Captain Janeway." 

Kathryn answered slowly, trying to carefully and exactly form her words.  It wouldn't do for the Doctor to think she was completely incapacitated. 
"Yes, Doctor.  What can I do for you?" 

"You have obviously deliberately forgotten our scheduled appointment again this evening.  You had your warning.  Doctor out." 

Completely alarmed, Kathryn jumped to her feet, only to fall back onto the couch as her knees crumbled beneath her. She yelled over the comm. "Janeway to Doc...tor.." 

The Doctor appeared at the doorway in a shimmer of light, punching data into his padd. "You should know better than to try to evade our appointments.  You have to submit to a monthly examination, just like everyone else on this ship." 
Surprised that the Captain hadn't interrupted his spiel, the Doctor looked up, and then took a completely involuntary step backward.  The Captain's quarters were in complete disarray - disgarded clothing lay in heaps on the floor, which was also littered with forgotten or unheeded glasses and empty liquor bottles.  But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Captain.  He hadn't seen her in nearly three weeks.  Things had been relatively calm on Voyager lately, and he had spent the time learning a few new operettas.  In the meantime, however, things had obviously gone to hell in a handbasket.  Voyager's Captain sat on the couch, clad only in an old t-shirt and underwear.  There were dark circles under her eyes, her hair appeared almost greasy, and she had lost about twenty-five pounds. 

"Captain, what on earth is going on?  This place smells like a brewery, and you look....well, you've looked better." 

As the Doctor ran his tricorder over her, Janeway took another drink from her sixth cocktail of the evening.  Kathryn unsteadily rose to her feet, heading for the middle of the room and her discarded uniform pants.  "You know, Doc, can I call you Doc? You know, you could have given a girl a chance to get decent before beaming to her quarters." 

The Doctor would have averted his eyes as the Captain donned her pants, but he was quite aware she might fall over at any moment.  To prevent any further medical damage, he stepped to her side and supported her as she drew her trousers over her significantly thinner hips. 
"Well, Doc, can I call ya Doc? as you can see, things are just peachy here, no med medical conditions to speak of..." 

"On the contrary Captain.  It appears you are approximately one cocktail from alcoholic poisoning.  Perhaps you would like to tell me where you acquired the alcohol?  I was under the impression that synthehol was the only thing readily available on a starship in such...mass quantities.  Have you constructed a still?"  The Doctor looked around, clearly expecting to find one.  There was always a still tucked away somewhere on a starship, it just usually wasn't in the Captain's quarters. 

"No, Doctor, I do not have a still." Kathryn seemed to temporarily gain her composure. "As you can see from the bottles, I'm sure..."  Kathryn turned and looked at the Doctor, who suddenly sprinted to catch her as she crumpled helplessly into a drunken sleep. 

Seven of Nine was in Astrometrics, randomly punching up star charts.  She was making an effort to "take her mind off things" and she had concluded that working might help.  It was not.  Her logical subroutines were clearly already overwhelmed by the situation with Kathryn.  The charts came and went, and the Borg did not even notice. 

Seven had been deeply concerned about Kathryn's health during the month after their return from the planet. However, after her encounter with the Captain in her ready room the evening after the celebration of her return, she was not willing to involve herself further in Kathryn's life.  If she was not wanted or needed, then she would simply remove herself.  It was times like these that she wished she did not have an eidetic memory.  It would not allow her to forget the things she wished to - like Kathryn's voice crumbling into despair over the decision she felt she had to make.  And then, when Seven would not accept the proffered explanation, the Captain screaming at her repeatedly to leave ("Get out now!!! Leave me alone.  I said leave me alone!  Don't touch me!  Get out..").  Kathryn had been absolutely hysterical, behaving like a crazy person.  Yelling at the top of her lungs - so loudly in fact, that Chakotay had come running into the room.  When he saw Kathryn pressed into the corner screaming, that mad expression on her face, he had grabbed Seven's arm and gently ushered her out of the room, their exit accompanied by the sounds of Kathryn's relentless sobbing....After that, they had simply ceased to interact with one another.  The Captain behaved like she did not recognize Seven's existence - except, of course, when the situation required otherwise.  Seven continued to conduct herself as she always had.  But after a time, she began to find it too painful to treat Kathryn the way she always had and be rewarded only by the same icy demeanor.  It seemed to somehow make things even worse - though that seemed inconceivable. 

Seven had studied about and observed human relationships long enough to know that they were virtually worthless without reciprocity.  Regardless of her own strong feelings, the relationship could not work unless Kathryn shared them, and clearly, she did not.  Or she was just very good at pretending.  Based on the Captain's subsequent decline in health and her absolute avoidance of physical proximity, Seven was fairly certain that Kathryn was merely pretending her lack of affection; and the longer it went on, the worse she got at it - her face contorting in abject misery every time she laid eyes on the Borg.  Of course, Seven could hardly bear the distance between herself and her beloved.  She doubted, however, that her pain at the separation was as physically noticeable as the Captain's.  Nevertheless, it was there - the daily, hourly struggle with a tangible force that sat on her chest and threatened to stop the beating of her heart.  Regardless, she was determined to abide by Kathryn's decision.  But the longer it went on, the worse Kathryn got, the weaker her resolution.  She wanted to take care of Kathryn - to hold her in her arms and assure her that everything was alright, and would be as long as they were together.  Unfortunately, her unfailing logic and her respect for Kathryn's wishes would not allow her to do so.  If there was to be a change in their relationship, the Captain would have to initiate it. 

Kathryn was aware of voices around her, but she was afraid to open her eyes.  I don't want to deal with this, whatever it is, I don't want to deal with this right now.  I'm trying to sleep for God's sake! 

"Shh.  She's coming around.  Kathryn, can you hear me?  Kathryn?" 

"Chakotay.  What is it, what's going on?"  She had obviously slept awhile, her throat was dry and it was difficult to speak. 

With obvious effort, she opened her eyes a crack, the bright lights over her head instantly making her eyes water.  "Computer, lights one quarter.  Damn it!  Computer, lights one..." 

"Kathryn, you're in sick bay." 

She snapped her eyes shut.  "Well, I guess I won't be turning down the lights then, will I?" 

"No, probably not.  How do you feel?"  Chakotay's hand was in her hair, brushing it gently away from her face like she was a sick child. 

"Ah, good, the patient is awake.  And how are we feeling this morning, Captain?"  The Doctor's voice dripped with sarcasm as he came into view over her. 

"Like hell."  She swallowed deeply, willing the saliva into her mouth.  "What's the prog..nosis?"   She was going to try to sit up, but she allowed her head to fall back down when the room started spinning. 

"Commander.  If you could excuse us for a moment."  Chakotay nodded briefly and walked briskly to the other side of the room.  Once he was out of earshot, the Doctor spoke again. 

"Physically, you're okay - or you will be in a week or so.  It will take that long to readminister all the vitamins you've lost.  And you need to catch up on some lost sleep.  However, what I am primarily concerned with is your emotional state.  If I may..." 

"Doctor, I know where you're going with this, and I don't want to hear it.  You do not have the credentials to offer psychological advice.  Even if you did, I wouldn't be inclined to listen to any on this particular..." 

"Regardless of what you think of my credentials, Captain, the fact remains that I have the option to restrict you to sickbay as long as I deem necessary.  In this case, that happens to directly coincide to the time it takes to fix this little emotional problem you're having.  However, if anyone else asks, I will inform them of your extensive physical injuries..." 

"Fine, Doctor.  I'm listening, spit it out." 

She heard voices filtering in from the Doctor's office.  She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she could almost tell who was speaking.  Chakotay and Tuvok?  Yes, Tuvok.  Hmm.  No Seven?  Kathryn's felt her heart break at the realization.  Seven must really dislike her if she wouldn't even come to Sickbay. 

"Well?" she said, her mind returning to the matter at hand. 

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow in her direction, the inevitable sarcasm returning to his voice.  "Well, suprisingly, I have nothing to say.  However, I believe Lieutenant Tuvok has a proposition for you.  You may find it interesting.  I certainly did - to say the least." 

Kathryn sat cross-legged on the floor in Tuvok's sparsely furnished, dimly lit quarters, a cup of coffee clutched in her icy grasp.  It had been five days since the Doctor's late night visit to her quarters, and she hadn't been back since.  Not for lack of trying, of course.  Sickbay was a horrible thing to inflict on anyone, but it was especially awful for the Captain, who felt she should have returned to work by now.  She also could not supress her frequent desires for a drink.  She had had little to do except think during her time with the Doctor, and it only made her want to slip back into the darkness from which she had come.  She had to admit, though, Tuvok's involvement in her proposed emotional recovery certainly piqued her interest.  Kathryn was certain it must be something quite unorthodox to have illicited such a response from the Doctor.  

Tuvok entered from the ensuite, where he had changed out of his uniform into more comfortable clothing.  She vaguely recognized the white robe as something Vulcans wore during ritual ceremonies and meditations.  She had never seen Tuvok thus attired, and she was prompted to ask about it.  

"What's the robe for, planning to carry me up Mount Seleya and petition for the return of my Katra?"  

"Your attempt to be humorous at this time is obviously born of your insecurity.  And you must be aware that the seldom-used tradition you speak of can only be invoked in death.  It is, however, ironic that you should mention it at this time since what we are about to do was suggested by a holographic rendition of Ambassador Spock, the last Vulcan to undergo the reunification of body and Katra."  

"Hmm, interesting.  So tell me, what are we about to do?"  

"It is something I should have considered before the situation became so difficult.  However, I doubt you would have consented to it without the Doctor's persuasionary tactics."  

"Okay.  Well, let's have it.  You know I don't like to be kept in the dark."  Even as she said it, Kathryn recognized the falsehood.  Lately, the dark was the only place she wanted to be.  The absolute darkest black of night, where not even the tumultuous, conflicted stirrings of her own mind could reach her...  

"I will perform a mind-meld.  The same type of meld I performed on Lon Suder when I was attempting to purge his violent tendencies.  My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts."  

"As I recall, you barely made it out of that one alive.  How is this going to be different?" 

"For one, you are not homicidal.  I am also well aware of the nature of the emotions you are experiencing, and have experienced them myself.  I can govern these emotions easily because I am not the Captain, and I am not faced with your dilemma. You will be given my logic to deal with the ramifications of this situation, something you have been lacking these past weeks.  We have undergone the meld before, I do not foresee any problems."  

Hmph.  Famous last words.  
"So, I'm not going to come out of this talking and acting like a Vulcan, correct?"  

"Correct, Captain.  In essence, we will merely engage in a short conversation, at the end of which you will hopefully have no difficulty reconciling your role as captain with your role as...companion."  

"So, you believe all of this has been about Seven?"  Kathryn set her empty coffee cup down on the floor beside her, determined not to become angry with her friend again.  

"For the most part, yes.  I also recognize the difficulties of command.  However, I would not choose to remove those from you, they are what makes you such an effective captain.  The choices you have made are yours to deal with, but I believe that they will be easier to handle when you have someone to share them with."  

"I see.  I'm not sure I agree with this tactic, but I also don't think I have many other options at this point."  

"You do not appear to."  

"Very well.  Do as you must."  The faintest of smiles flitted briefly across her face.  She really wasn't worried at all.  She was confident that if there was any danger, the Doctor would have been monitoring the situation.  And anyway, if she had to end up taking on the characteristics of anyone on board Voyager, she'd be most comfortable with Tuvok's.  

Tuvok arranged himself on the floor, his crossed legs overlapping with those of his Captain and friend.  He laid his fingers gently on her face, applying pressure gradually.  His voice was monotonous and soothing.  

"My mind to your mind.  My thoughts to your thoughts..."  

Suddenly, she was running breathlessly, tired and alone and terrified through the darkened corridors of her own mind.  She wanted out of here desperately - couldn't stand being here again.  But then, after the passage of mere seconds, she felt the environment change considerably.  She felt as though she was rolled in a deep and luxurious blanket, an absolute cocoon of perfect and comforting logic.  Tuvok was by her side.  They were walking slowly, the communication between them was real and strong, though neither of them appeared to be saying a thing.  Their essences danced together, mingling and releasing, feeling one another's minds and thoughts completely.  Even as the two were engaged in this absolute and all-encompassing act of intimacy, Kathryn was yet aware of her own logical detachment as she pointed out the problem areas subconsciously to her guide and friend.  After what seemed like hours of this choreography of taking and giving, tangling and straightening, logic and emotion and logical emotion, they were quickly back in the familiar sparse quarters.  As soon as she was aware of the transition, Janeway raised her questioning and concerned glance to meet Tuvok's gaze, searching for any sign that things didn't go as planned.  When she found her friend exactly as he had always been, Kathryn breathed a great sigh of relief.  She was not afraid any more.  

Kathryn Janeway returned to her quarters the following evening to find them absolutely spotless.  She wondered briefly who had been so thorough, but quickly put the thought aside.  Obviously, it had to be one of the three people who knew about her brief affair with the bottle.  Needless to say, the Doctor had forbidden her ingestion of further alcoholic beverages, but truthfully, she hadn't the desire anyway.  What she really wanted was a good cup of coffee.  A slight bemused chuckle escaped her lips at the thought - she wondered if Tuvok had been tempted to correct that little addiction while he was messing around in her head.  She decided to ask him about it later.  In the mean time, she let her thoughts wonder to Seven of Nine, to the woman whose name she had whispered with yearning and need and desire only a month before.  She felt her feelings truly again, as if they were new.  As she slipped into her steaming hot fragranced bath, her thoughts turned to the feelings of her beloved, and she wondered if the young woman would ever be able to get past what had - or more specifically what hadn't - happened.  

A long sigh escaped her lips as she settled into her bath.  "Oh, Annika.  I love you.  I love you so much."  

The beautiful young Borg who had been standing silently near the ensuite door smiled involuntarily as the words reached her ears.  She quietly walked the few paces to the living area, and then transported to Astrometrics.  

Now was not the time, but it was coming soon.

 

THE END