THE NATURE OF LOVE

The market itself seemed to be an entity, inhaling, exhaling, expanding, contracting, spreading its arms wide in a welcoming embrace. Taking a simple breath drew in a lungful of sounds and tastes and smells, some familiar as a baby's cry, and others whispering of mysteries yet to be discovered. The market showed the truth of the Lom world; its incredible bounty and its astonishing lack. The finest of fabrics hung in splendor next to the simple cloth of the poor. Booths filled with handmade goods, clothing, food, supplies of every variety, stood, row upon row. The noise was a constant, steady hum, a pulse thudding ceaselessly, weaving itself into a syncopated rhythm that sounded in time with the visitor's own heartbeat. People, huge masses of them, moved as part of the entity, traversing the narrow passageways as if life-blood flowing through its veins.

The boy stood in the shadow of a vendor's cart, eyeing the fruits displayed with such basic hunger, his eyes darting from the food to the face of the vendor, waiting for an opportunity. If he could manage to get two of the larger fruits he would be able to sell one and have enough to feed himself for at least three days. He just had to wait for the right moment, when the vendor was distracted. He didn't have long to wait.

"Lt. Torres. We are supposed to be searching for a plasma conversion conduit, not local vegetation. We will be late for our rendezvous with the rest of the Away Team," Seven of Nine, Voyager's Astrometrics Officer urged, attempting to capture Torres' attention.

"Seven," B'Elanna Torres replied, turning for a moment from her contemplation of the exotic fruits and vegetables to regard Seven with a touch of annoyance, "I realize that you don't have to actually consume solid nutrition, as you so charmingly put it, but the rest of us do, and if there is anything here that might improve Neelix's cooking, I intend to find it."

"Very well, if you insist. However you will be the one to explain to the Captain why we are late."

" As long as we find a conduit, she won't care that we made a few side trips. Jeez, Seven I would have thought that being, well, being with the Captain would have improved your sense of adventure a little," B'Elanna teased, only the slight edge to her voice belying her comfort with the thought of her Captain and this walking glacier.

"I do not understand the correlation between my relationship with the Captain and purchasing vegetable matter."

"You wouldn't. Look, just let me find something appetizing here and then we'll look for the conduit, OK? You agree, don't you, Ensign?" B'Elanna said, glancing at Ensign Samantha Wildman for support.

Sam Wildman had begun to edge away during the conversation, feigning interest in some ridiculously ugly pots that stood in a booth nearby. She had not been thrilled when she had first learned of her assignment to help Lt. Torres and Seven find a replacement conduit. The two women had a reputation on Voyager for being highly incompatible and for a tendency to erupt into loud discussions when they disagreed, which was often. At Torres' words Sam glanced over, a tight look of trepidation on her face.

"If you say so, Lieutenant." Sam smiled back, rather unconvincingly.

The vendor, who had been monitoring the conversation, decided that now was the time to intercede, before the tall blonde with the metal face jewelry convinced the smaller brunette with the intriguing ridges to walk away with his profit.

"Ladies," he began, a wide smile revealing the two rows of small, pointed teeth that were characteristic of the Lom, "Please, take your time. I offer only the very best selection of delicacies. I am sure that we can find just what you are looking for."

As he spoke, the vendor turned toward the three women, leaving a portion of his cart out of his direct line of sight. This was the opportunity for which the boy had been waiting. Shooting out from behind the ragged flap of tent that covered the next booth, he snatched two of the larger fruits and turned to make his escape. He almost made it. Glancing back to see if anyone was following, he didn't see the large mass that suddenly loomed in his path. Two hands grabbed him roughly and he looked up into the slightly cruel features of a member of the Lom Security Police. As the hands pulled him forcefully back toward the cart, a small cry of pain escaped his throat.

The hands pushed him forward, the force throwing him to the ground at the feet of the three women from Voyager. What happened next was a bit of a blur to the boy, each moment rushing past in rapid succession. He heard a voice raised in outrage and anger, directed not at him, but at the Security officer. From there more voices chimed in, rising and falling in a sort of chaotic symphony of sounds, increasing steadily in volume, until, with a resounding thud, the Security officer fell to the ground, blood pouring from his nose. The melee continued to grow, blows being exchanged, people falling. At one point the boy watched as the tall blond alien picked up a member of the Police force and tossed him, effortlessly, as one would throw a clod of dirt, across the narrow street, where he landed amid the ugly pots.

Finally, as more police arrived, the Voyager crewmembers were subdued and lead away. The boy had taken the opening, and escaped, running madly through the streets of the market, the fruit clutched tightly to his chest.

For a society capable of warp travel, the prison was something of an anachronism. It was a squat, ugly building, containing a seemingly endless maze of dank corridors.  There were no force fields, no ambient lighting; only holes carved into the walls and ceilings to let in the light, and bars of simple metal. The cells were small and dim, with only the light coming in through the slanted shafts in the ceiling to illuminate them. Along three of the walls stood bunks of what appeared to be wood of some sort. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling were made of stone, great blocks, dark and roughhewn, crumbling in places. The air was damp and smelled vaguely of mildew and age. Yet, in spite of the damp and the lack of light, they weren't unpleasant rooms, as prison cells go. The cells were clean and reasonably well maintained; a hopeful sign that their captors would provide at least the semblance of humane treatment to the three women who now occupied one of the cells. Three women who were decidedly less than pleased with their current accommodations.

"I fail to understand why it was necessary to punch the security officer," Seven of Nine stated somewhat acerbically, her left eyebrow and ocular implant nearly touching her hairline.

"You know Seven, just because you are now the Captain's girlfriend doesn't stop you from being next," Lt. B'Elanna Torres growled menacingly, advancing toward Seven.

"I will be sure to inform the Captain of that at the earliest possible opportunity," Seven responded, the hostility in her voice a match for Torres'.

"Lieutenant. Seven. Please, isn't this situation bad enough already without you two getting into another fistfight?" Ensign Samantha Wildman pleaded, her wide blue eyes moving back and forth between the two women. Sam was pretty certain if she actually had to attempt to stop a physical altercation, she would be in need of medical attention.

"Please. Can we just try to make the best of this?"

Both B'Elanna and Seven turned to glare at her, making it quite clear that to them there was absolutely nothing good to make of the predicament in which they found themselves. The fact that it was a situation entirely of their own making, or rather of Lt. Torres' making, only served to rub salt in fresh wounds.

"Fine. You stay on that side of the cell and I'll stay on this side and we'll just try and remain calm until the Captain can bail us out. OK?" B'Elanna stated, moving to sit on one of the bunks that lined the walls of the small prison cell.

"In order to remain calm, is it not necessary to have been calm to begin with? If you had been calm Lt. Torres, we would not be in this cell nor would we find it necessary to remain calm until the Captain arrives." Seven noted, still glaring at B'Elanna.

 Two months ago, Seven and Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the USS Voyager, had embarked upon an intimate relationship. Given the demands of both of their positions aboard Voyager, the couple had found that their time together was a little more limited than either wished. The stop here on Lom for supplies and shore leave had seemed like the perfect opportunity for some time alone. However, because of responsibilities of rank and circumstances, Kathryn and Seven had not been able to truly take advantage of their time on the planet.

Seven and Janeway had had plans for a quiet, and hopefully, undisturbed, evening. It was the last night of shore leave and they had planned a romantic dinner under the pale blue glow of the Lom moon. However, even if the Captain did manage to free them from the Lom prison before nightfall, there was no way that Janeway would be in the mood for romance tonight. In fact, if she even were speaking to Seven, she would count herself fortunate. Because of this Seven wasn't feeling at all charitable toward Lt. Torres. After all, if Torres had not felt it necessary to become involved in a fracas with a member of the Lom Security Police, Seven would right now be finishing her preparations for her date with Kathryn.

B'Elanna rose menacingly from the bunk, growling low and deep in her throat. The hairs stood up on the back of Ensign Samantha Wildman's neck. Sam would have given anything to be back on Voyager right now, fixing dinner for her daughter Naomi, listening to the child tell her all the adventures she had had that day. Instead she was stuck here in a prison cell with the two people voted "Most Likely to Kill Each Other" in the current ship's betting pools. It seemed that there was no way the situation could get any worse.

Then from the doorway of the cell came a voice that all of them recognized instantly. A rich, husky voice, pitched right now at its lowest possible register.

"Well, ladies, consider yourselves fortunate that the Lom insist on keeping you. I assure you that you will find the next few days in this prison cell far preferable to being on Voyager with me."

To say that Kathryn Janeway was annoyed would have been a vast understatement of the situation. Two hours ago she had been sitting behind the desk in her Ready Room, happily contemplating a marvelous evening with the woman she loved. It had been two months since Voyager had left behind the devastation on the Ti'Niri world, two months since Kathryn admitted to herself that she was in love with Seven. In the time that had elapsed, she and Seven had moved cautiously into this new phase of their relationship. After all, this was new ground for both of them, and it seemed prudent to try and take it slow, to learn all that they could about each other, about what it meant to be in love. This had also allowed the crew to get used to the idea of their Captain not only being involved with a member of the crew, but one who just three short years ago had been a member of the Borg Collective.

 As she listened to Seven recall the events of the afternoon, Kathryn could feel some of her initial anger begin to ebb. It appeared that her crewmembers had been acting in the best traditions of Starfleet in trying to protect a young boy from unduly harsh treatment. However, as was often the case when B'Elanna was involved, instead of relying on logic and reasoning, Torres had resorted to anger and fists.

Sighing deeply, Janeway leaned on the side of the cell doorframe and closed her eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she could almost taste the damp, moldy air of the prison. The thought of having to leave her crewmates here, especially of leaving Seven here, depressed her greatly. But the Lom had been insistent, and rightly so, that the three be punished in some way for the injuries inflicted on the members of their Police force.

Janeway had already made arrangements to pay for all the property that had been damaged or destroyed. The Lom magistrate had at first handed down a sentence of thirty days. Since that was entirely out of the question for her ship, Janeway had offered instead to pay a considerable fine for her delinquent officers, doing away with any prison time. After much debate and concession on both sides, a fine had been agreed upon, with the inclusion of a two-day sentence for the Voyager crewmembers.

Opening her eyes, Kathryn found herself staring into the concerned and contrite blue orbs of her new lover. Torres and Ensign Wildman had moved toward the back of the cell, leaving she and Seven as alone as was possible, given the circumstances.

Seven spoke softly, her eyes never leaving Kathryn's.

"I am sorry, Kathryn. I was unaware of Lt. Torres' intentions until she had actually assaulted the officer. I attempted to intervene but I was unsuccessful."

 "I know Seven. Once she reached that point there wasn't much that anyone could have done."

"We will be confined here for how long?"

"Two days. They wanted thirty but I told them that it was unacceptable for my ship to stay here that many days. I talked them down to two. Besides, I pointed out that unless they wanted us beaming down Borg technology onto their planet, that they could only keep you forty-eight hours."

The corners of Seven's mouth twitched slightly, as she acknowledged the cunning tactic of her Captain. Blue eyes twinkling, she wished for what seemed like the hundredth time, that she and Kathryn were back on Voyager, safely ensconced in Kathryn's quarters, the lights dimmed, soft music swaying gently through the room.

"I will miss you," Seven almost whispered.

Kathryn's face took on that fond expression she used when something touched her deeply.

"I'll miss you too darling. But it won't be too long. You watch, the time will just fly by," Kathryn answered, the doubt that drifted across her eyes repudiating the confident tone of her voice, "I promise."

The small white ship hung gracefully in space, dangling above the spinning world like a baby's mobile: enticing and fantastical. The ship seemed fragile and ephemeral against a backdrop of boundless black cloth, punched through with holes. Far in the distance of space, the cloth was patterned here and there with brilliant, swirling masses of purple and red and gold, bejeweled with spinning globes of green and blue and white.

However, from the viewport of the darkened Mess Hall of her ship, all that Kathryn Janeway could see were a few scattered constellations and the green and yellow sphere of the planet below. She clasped the cup of coffee she held a little tighter between her hands, willing the warmth of it to steal up into her body, erasing the chill that had settled into her bones in the damp Lom prison. She had returned to Voyager, promising that she would personally return to retrieve her three incarcerated crewmembers. The Lom had mandated that Janeway be allowed only one visit to the jail, so for now, all that she and the rest of the crew could do was wait. Waiting was not something that Kathryn did well.

She had tried to sleep, but the cold, empty expanse of bed next to her had only added to the icy nip that seemed to pervade her very soul. After only two months, she had grown so used to the feeling of Seven's warm body, curled gently around her in sleep, that the thought of getting into that lonely bed had been almost more than she could bear.

One and half-hours later she had given up the battle, dressing quickly in a new uniform and leaving her quarters. She walked aimlessly through the deserted corridors of her ship. It was the middle of the Gamma shift and aside from those at the various posts few others were awake. She consciously avoided both the Astrometrics Lab and the Cargo Bay. Her empty bedroom was reminder enough of Seven's absence. Finally, she entered the darkened Mess Hall. A hot cup of coffee would warm her up. Four cups of coffee later and Kathryn still felt chilled and restless.

Two months ago she had stood in this same room and waited while her crew attempted to make sense of a senseless act. The massacre and loss on Ti'Niri had shocked her to the core of her being but had brought with it, in the strange balancing act of the Universe, a blessing, the priceless gift of love. Now she stood here again, in orbit of a strange planet, waiting, this time for a few wayward sheep. Kathryn shook her head in disbelief and amazement, still marveling at the fact that she had sent an away team down on a simple errand and ended up with three members of her crew causing a major diplomatic incident and landing in jail.

Kathryn knew that it would take time for she and Seven to settle into their relationship. When Seven was there with her, all of the doubts, all of the questions, just dissolved like dew off the grass in the light of the morning sun. Holding Seven in her arms, seeing the love that stood in her eyes, made all those insecurities vanish, shadowy phantasms meeting the cold light of day. It was only in moments like these, alone with her thoughts, that all her fears and uncertainties came surging back, threatening to overwhelm her.

Kathryn Janeway was not a woman who easily gave in to her emotions. She had spent the last six years subverting them, closing off a part of herself, and now that she found herself in the position of having to knock down those walls she had built, she wasn't quite sure that she knew how. Worse still, she was more than a little afraid to try. After six long years, there was a certain comfort to be found within the sanctuary of her denial. Prisoners released after serving long terms often return to jail, needing the security and familiarity of their prison.

Kathryn worried that she would not be able to offer Seven the complete devotion that she deserved. After all, no matter what Kathryn might feel for Seven, Voyager came first. Her first duty was to her ship and crew, to get them safely home. She couldn't allow anything to change that fundamental fact; not even this woman who had returned her heart to her. At least that was what Kathryn kept telling herself. To believe anything else would crumble to dust a huge part of the foundation of her life. The idea that anything or anyone might be more important to her than her ship and crew was an admission that Kathryn Janeway was not prepared to make, not yet.

Adding to her fears and doubts was the fact that Seven was so young, so unformed in many ways. While she acknowledged Seven's ability to decide for herself what was right for her, Kathryn couldn't help but wonder if, given a wider selection of potential mates, Seven wouldn't have chosen someone younger, smarter, freer.

Sighing deeply, Janeway turned away from the viewport and sank onto the cushioned seat of the bench that ran along the wall beneath it. The sound of the doors sliding open startled her back to reality.

"Captain," came Neelix's voice across the darkened room, "You're up early today."

"Actually, I haven't been to sleep yet," Janeway replied wearily.

In the light that filtered in through the viewport from the ship's running lights, Janeway could see Neelix's ever-cheerful countenance, clouded a bit with concern and sympathy. Despite his ebullient exterior, Neelix had known a great deal of tragedy in his life and he had a tender and loving heart. Crossing the room to stand beside her, Neelix stood for a moment gazing out at the same stars that Kathryn had been memorizing and mapping for the past two hours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer than Janeway had ever heard it. It wasn't the voice of Voyager's Morale Officer, but of Kathryn's friend.

"You miss Seven, don't you, Captain?"

Glancing sharply at him, Janeway debated for a moment simply telling him that that was not a topic she was going to discuss, and returning immediately to her quarters. Yet, even in the dim light, she could see the hint of sadness that clouded his eyes. He must have sensed her indecision.

"I'm sorry to sound intrusive, Captain. I know I have no business sticking my nose where it doesn't belong. It's just that I know a lot about missing people."

The last words were spoken in such soft tones Kathryn had to lean closer in order to hear them. A melancholy smile graced Neelix's face as he spoke the words. It occurred to Kathryn that so often she and the rest of the crew lamented the long journey home, mourning their inability to see their families and loved ones, never considering when they turned to Neelix for comforting words that he was the one in need of consolation. His entire family, his whole planet, had been destroyed. He had no home to return to, and he had lost the one soul that he had chosen to love.

"Yes, Neelix, I miss her more than I thought possible," Kathryn admitted ruefully, "It is only for two days, but it feels more like two years."

"It will be over soon and all three of them will be home safe and sound."

"How's Naomi doing? I know it must be a little frightening for her to have her Mother in an alien prison. I hope that you reassured her that they are being treated very well by the Lom?"

"Oh, I did, Captain, not to worry. Naomi is a very bright child and she knows that you would never leave her Mother and Seven and B'Elanna down there if they weren't safe."

"Naomi is very lucky to have you, Neelix." Kathryn said sincerely, smiling gently at him.

"Thank you, Captain," Neelix responded humbly, "Actually, I think I am the lucky one."

For a long moment the two sat in silence, until Janeway spoke again, her voice gentle and sad.

"You miss Kes a great deal don't you?"

"Every hour of every day, Captain."

"Neelix, forgive me for prying, but, I would like to ask you something if I may?"

"Captain, you should know that you can ask me anything."

Neelix waited expectantly for his Captain to continue. She seemed lost in thought and he was hesitant to interrupt. At length, she looked up, uncertainty evident in her blue-gray eyes.

"Do you ever regret it?"

"Regret what, Captain?"

"Loving Kes. I guess I am wondering if the love that you shared for that short time was worth the pain that it caused you to lose her?"

"I could never regret loving her. She was the most wonderful, extraordinary thing to ever happen to me and I will treasure that gift for all of my days. I knew from the beginning that we would only have eight or nine years together at the most. The fact that it was far less than that didn't change the way I felt about her. If I regretted, for even a second, the time I spent with her, then I would be diminishing the sincerity of the love we shared. That's something I would sooner die than do."

"It's just that, I worry sometimes, that I am not going to be able to be all that Seven deserves and that she will eventually find someone who can give her all the things that I can't," Kathryn stated quietly.

"Whenever I start to really miss Kes, I think about what she became, how she transformed into this entirely new being. You see, Captain, I know that I am part of that new being. If it hadn't been for me rescuing her from the Kazon, Kes would never have come on board Voyager. She would never have studied with the Doctor, never learned from Tuvok, and from you. She might never have evolved into who she is now, if it hadn't been for me. And to know that I am a part of that, because I loved her and I saved her, is enough for me."

Walking onto her bridge, Kathryn Janeway glanced around, noting that everything appeared so normal. Tuvok stood stoically at Tactical. At Ops, Harry Kim looked up at her entrance, offering a little too cheery, "Good morning, Captain." Obviously her crew were aware that recent events were undoubtedly going to affect their Captain's mood, and they seemed intent on not making it any worse.

Chakotay regarded her sympathetically as she lowered herself somewhat wearily into her chair. Kathryn had found upon returning to her quarters after her conversation with Neelix that sleep was even more elusive then before. Her mind continued turning over and over the things that Neelix had said to her. She had finally fallen into an exhausted, but fitful sleep, only to be awakened what seemed like mere minutes later by the lights signaling the beginning of morning watch. A semi-cold shower had done little to energize her and Kathryn thought with a sense of dread, that it was going to be an unbearably long day.

Glancing over at her First Officer, Janeway felt a sudden touch of irritation. She could almost feel the waves of sympathy being directed her way. She was determined that she should not be perceived by the rest of the ship as an object of pity. After all, it wasn't as if this was a permanent situation. By tomorrow afternoon her crew would once again be whole and intact and Voyager would be back on course for the Alpha Quadrant.

At the Helm, Tom Paris turned to give her a wry, conspiratorial smile. While he and B'Elanna had been a couple for some time now, it was still difficult to be forcibly apart. However, instead of making Janeway feel better, the gesture only increased her feeling of irritation. She was the Captain, not some crewmember to be commiserated with, or worse yet, pitied. Rising abruptly from her chair, Janeway moved briskly across the bridge to her Ready Room, tossing over her shoulder, "Commander, you have the bridge."

Once in her Ready Room, Janeway attempted to go over the monthly personnel reports, but she had difficulty keeping her mind on the task at hand. Since she had made the decision to become romantically involved with Seven, Kathryn had worried that the relationship would have an adverse affect on her ability to lead and on her crew's conception of her. A good Captain leads not through fear but through gaining and maintaining the respect of her people. They have to want to follow her orders because they believe in her and in her leadership, not simply because that is what is expected of them. For six long years, Kathryn had cultivated that respect, knowing that her crew looked to her for her strength and her determination and her judgment. How could she expect them to continue to do that when that wall of privacy and reserve had been breached, when they began to view her not as Captain, but simply as another fallible, needful human being?

Rising from her desk Kathryn crossed the floor of the Ready Room, climbing the few stairs to the sitting area. A pensive and slightly disgruntled expression settled over her elegant features. This was the first real test of her resolve. She had been pleasantly surprised to discover that most of the crew were very accepting, even pleased, at her involvement with Seven. Kathryn sensed that for the most part, her crew wanted their Captain happy and if being with Seven produced those results, then they could accede to that graciously. Even now, the problem lay not with her crew's perception of her, but in her willingness to accept that that perception had altered, and in her opinion, altered negatively.

The chime to her Ready Room door sounded discreetly.

"Come," Janeway said with a small sigh. She wasn't really in the mood for company. She would simply send whoever it was swiftly on their way.

The door slid open silently to reveal her First Officer. Chakotay took one look at the expression of annoyance and discontentment on her face and began to smile a bit. Of all the responses Kathryn had been expecting to receive, amusement wasn't one of them.

"Can I help you, Commander?" Janeway asked a bit peevishly.

"You really hate this, don't you?" Chakotay responded, his grin growing a bit wider.

After glaring at him for a long moment, Janeway turned and walked back over to the sitting area, throwing herself somewhat unceremoniously onto the sofa that ran under the length of the viewport.

"I have no idea to what you are referring, Commander," she retorted, her blue-grey eyes throwing daggers his way.

Chuckling softly, Chakotay moved across the room to seat himself on the sofa opposite her. He sat for a few minutes, simply staring at her, that odious grin still firmly in place, until she couldn't stand it anymore.

"What is it that you think I hate?" Kathryn threw at him, irritation coloring every syllable.

"Being the object of empathy and, Heaven forbid, pity, by the crew. You can't stand the idea that for the first time in six years, Kathryn Janeway is revealed to her crew to be dare I say it? Human? The very idea that they might have an inkling that you are just as prone to emotional need as they are, that you are capable of the same longings that they have, really rankles with you, doesn't it?"

Even the full force of her famous glare, known to reduce Ensigns to paralytic terror, failed to remove that infuriating grin from Chakotay's face. Finally, sighing deeply, Kathryn was forced to give a somewhat rueful grin herself.

"I'm the Captain, damn it. How can I expect to maintain the respect of my crew when I appear to them to be a lovelorn kid, moping around till Seven comes home? At least eight different people have asked me, sympathy just dripping from the words, how I am today. How can I be an effective leader when my crew's perception of me has altered so radically?"

"You're right, Kathryn, it has altered. But not in the way you seem to think. By allowing the crew to see that you are just as human as they are, that you have the same needs and desires and faults as they have, you have, in essence, given them permission to not only respect you, but to love you as well. It is hard to feel affection for someone who is so removed, who appears to be almost god-like in her ability to forge ahead, alone and distant. By granting the crew a glimpse into who you really are, by letting them see that you love Seven and that you miss her, you have managed to engender honest affection for you."

"For the first time, you are one of them, and they have taken you into the fold. They unreservedly respected you before, even liked you, but now, since you became involved with Seven, I honestly think that the crew has developed a very fond affection for you that was missing before. If you want to perceive that change as bad, that is entirely up to you." Chakotay finished earnestly, the sincerity of his feeling evident in his honest brown eyes.

Chakotay watched the emotions flit across the beautiful features of his Captain and friend. Her basic instinct to balk at the familiarity of her crew knowing so much about her warred with the impact his words had made upon her. Kathryn Janeway was a very private woman and to feel that her feelings and personal life were on display chafed at her sense of privacy and decorum. Yet, the truth of Chakotay's statement seeped through her reserve. For better or worse, this was the way things were, and it would serve her well to simply learn to accept this fondness her crew seemed intent on exhibiting, graciously and with good humor.

"You're right, I suppose," she admitted grudgingly, "I guess it is just going to take some getting used to. I must admit that there are probably worse things then being regarded by your crew with somewhat amused affection. What those things might be I couldn't tell you right off the top of my head, but I'm sure that there are some."

Laughing, Chakotay rose to his feet and moved toward the door.

"I'm sure that, given enough time, you'll come up with a long list," he rejoined, his amusement evident. He was almost to the door when Kathryn called to him.

"Wait a minute. Are you suggesting that I wasn't always beloved by my crew?" Janeway questioned jokingly, the actual disbelief in her voice only evident to someone who knew her well.

Turning his head to grin at her, Chakotay continued on his way out the door, wisely choosing to let that particular question go unanswered. He had learned long ago that the secret to having a serious conversation with Kathryn Janeway was knowing when to leave.

After the conversation with Chakotay, the day had been a little more bearable for Kathryn. The longer she considered his words, the more comfortable she began to feel with the response she was receiving from the crew. She found, as she walked to her quarters at the end of her shift, that the "Good evening, Captain. How are you?" that she was greeted with by more than a few crewmembers filled her with a sense of contentment that was marred only by the fact that she knew when she reached her quarters, they would be empty and that a long, lonely night stretched before her.

She ate her dinner quickly and with little interest, consuming the small salad for the nutrition, not the enjoyment of the food. Once she had finished her meal, she undressed, slipping on a pair of cream-colored silk pajamas. Kathryn wasn't much of a drinker, but tonight she hoped the whiskey and soda would help her get some much-needed sleep. Taking her drink from the replicator, she settled on the couch that lined one whole wall of her living room. Sipping slowly, the warmth of the liquor traced paths down her throat, into her chest, fiery rivers that melted away some of the chill she still felt. From her viewport, Kathryn could see the planet below, the green and brown continents girdled by oceans of ochre and bronze. It seemed so surreal to think that three members of her crew were incarcerated down there on that globe, spinning so indifferently in space.

Tomorrow, the knitted-locks would be opened, and then Voyager would be free as well to continue on her journey home. Knitted-locks, Kathryn thought, a line from a poem darting teasingly through her mind. Rising from the sofa, she crossed the room to the small bookcase that stood along the opposite wall. Studying the titles for a moment, she took a thin volume from the shelf and returned to the couch, curling up at one end, her bare feet tucked up underneath her. Before long she found the poem she had been thinking about, the words of it reaching up to wreathe around her heart. It was called "The Last Invocation", by a 19th century poet named Walt Whitman.

Kathryn read the poem through once more, a half-smile of rueful acknowledgement stealing across her face. The poem wasn't about a real prison of thick wall, and unbreakable bars of steel. It applied far more to Kathryn than it ever would to Seven, despite the physical jail that currently surrounded her. Kathryn had built a prison of her own, enclosing her heart within walls she had built, unaided, brick by brick. It hadn't been obvious at first, so subtle was the laying of the foundation. Over the past six years, she had built the walls high and stalwart, using the weight of the four pips on her collar to reinforce them. However, unlike the poet, Kathryn had the opportunity to be free of her prison before her last invocation had been pronounced. She had been granted the possibility of rebirth through love, not death.

Kathryn realized that instead of trying to tear down the walls she had erected, she had merely opened the gate a bit, allowing Seven in, but refusing to step outside. The chinks in the walls that appeared here and there she shored up with all of the doubts and insecurities she harbored about loving Seven, and about Seven loving her.

The question remained though, of whether Kathryn was strong enough, fearless enough, to topple the ramparts she had constructed. She wasn't sure she knew herself. She wanted to believe that she could, that loving Seven and desiring to make things work with her would be a powerful enough incentive. Kathryn realized that by heeding Chakotay's words today that she had at least allowed her crew a glimpse through the open gate inside their Captain's enclosure. It wasn't much, but it was a significant step toward one-day razing her personal palisade to the ground.

The chimes of the small grandfather clock against the far wall sounded. It was a family heirloom, a reminder of home and the past. Still set to old Earth standard time, the sonorous tones of the bells resonated in the semi-darkness of the room. When the twelfth chime had sounded, Kathryn rose slowly from the sofa. Calling for the computer to lower the lights, she crossed to her bedroom. The soothing qualities of the whiskey and the calm that had come with her realization made the prospect of sleep a little easier tonight. By this time tomorrow, Seven would be back on board Voyager, and no doubt safely settled in Kathryn's bed, her soft, lanky frame wrapped around Kathryn. Thinking of all the things with which she had in mind to welcome Seven home, Kathryn Janeway slipped off to sleep, a wistful smile gracing her lips.

It was patently clear to Samantha Wildman that the cell in which she and Seven, and B'Elanna found themselves had never been intended to hold three people. Especially when two of those people were a six-foot, former Borg, and a slightly more diminutive half-Klingon who insisted on prowling restlessly around the cramped space of the cell. Since the Captain had left, there had been little in the way of conversation. Before departing, Janeway had informed all three of them of the length of their incarceration, and assured them that they would be well treated by the Lom. She had also assured them that once they were back on Voyager, they could expect some additional punishment, this time from their Captain.

"Damn it, Seven, could you please get out of my way?" Torres snarled.

"If you would not insist upon pacing around the cell this would not present a problem," Seven retorted, standing in the very center of the cell.

"I'll pace if I want to. I can't stand being stuck in this dinky little hole. The least they could do is put us in separate cells."

"Perhaps the Lom felt they were being thoughtful in placing us together," Sam interjected, trying for the umpteenth time to keep the two other women from erupting into one of their infamous arguments.

"I could live without their thoughtfulness," B'Elanna stated sulkily.

"I could also live without their pitiful excuse for dinner, too. Here I was complaining about Neelix's cooking. Little did I know that I would be ecstatic to have some of his leola root stew right about now."

"Is there anything in our current situation, surroundings, or circumstances that you do not wish to complain about, Lieutenant?" The derision in Seven's tone was quite clear.

"Look, Seven, I'm sure that because you have a vast amount of experience being cooped up in small places with lots of other people, you're probably enjoying this, but I can assure you, I'm not. So lay off, OK?" Torres knew her reference to Seven's past as a Borg drone was hitting below the belt, but she was tired and hungry and worst of all, well aware that their current predicament was entirely her fault.

Seven regarded Torres evenly for a moment, determined not to disappoint Kathryn by becoming involved in a second altercation, this time with one of her own crewmates. Out of the corner of her eye, Seven could see Samantha Wildman seated on one of the bunks, her eyes flitting nervously back and forth between the two women. While she did not know Sam all that well, Seven was very fond of Samantha's daughter Naomi, and she had no wish for the Ensign to be frightened of her.

Seven looked down bleakly, her blue eyes clouded with uncertainty. She didn't know what had come over her, what had possessed her to bare her soul like that, to reveal things to these two relative strangers that she had never even told Kathryn. Yet, perhaps that was part of it. Seven had never before had the opportunity to talk like this, to share her thoughts and feelings and doubts with friends. So many things had been troubling her recently. The past three years had been somewhat overwhelming and she found it almost impossible at times to process and adapt to all of the changes that had transpired.

Of all of the emotions that had trampled through her heart and mind, she found love to be the most incomprehensible. Hatred, anger, compassion, even the evil they had so recently encountered, was simple and straightforward compared to love. Seven knew that she loved Kathryn Janeway. When she catalogued and identified all of the feelings and sensations and thoughts that Kathryn provoked in her, Seven could easily label the all-encompassing emotion as love.

Yet, she still didn't know what love was or what it meant to love someone. There had been no instructions provided to her, no manual or guide to tell her how to love Kathryn. All of her research had proven to be contradictory and convoluted, a mass of useless information. In the end, Seven had found that she had more questions now than she had before she and Kathryn had admitted their love for each other, and worse, that she had no one to talk to them about.

How could she possibly tell Kathryn that she was uncertain about love? That she wasn't sure that she knew how to love her? Kathryn deserved a partner who could love her completely, and competently, without reservation or hesitation. How could a former drone be all that Kathryn needed her to be? Seven had considered consulting the Doctor, but he had no practical experience, nothing more to draw on then the gigaquads of information stored in the ship's computer. So, now Seven found herself here in this cell with two people she barely knew, one of whom didn't even like her, pouring out a litany of doubts and questions, hoping against hope and common sense, that they would be able to help her.

A shadow fell across the bunk on which Seven was sitting. Seven looked up slowly, part of her rational mind expecting to see Samantha Wildman's kind face. Instead Seven found herself staring once again into B'Elanna's caramel colored eyes. For the first time in the three years she had known Lt. Torres, Seven found that those eyes held only kindness and compassion.

"Scoot over," Torres said brusquely, motioning with her head for Seven to move over and allow her to sit next to her on the wooden bunk.

"Why, do you wish to have this bunk now? I fail to see that it is significantly different than the one you were occupying," Seven rejoined, a puzzled frown marring her perfect skin.

Sighing deeply and rolling her eyes, Torres took a moment to reconsider whether she actually wanted to offer her help. Sometimes the former Borg could be so damned obtuse.

"No, Seven, I don't want this bunk. I thought, that if you wanted to talk, I could sit a little closer. That way you wouldn't have to yell across the cell. Unless of course, you don't want me to sit here."

The trio spent the rest of the day and the next evening trying to keep themselves amused. They talked and dozed, even going so far as to play an old word game that Samantha remembered from childhood. The conversation remained light, never regaining the intensity of the previous evening, but the atmosphere was free of tension and for that Sam was incredibly grateful. As the appointed time for their release drew near, none of them could contain the excitement and relief they were all feeling. Though Janeway had made it clear that some sort of punishment awaited them, all three were anxious to return home.

At the scheduled time of release, one of the guards appeared at the cell door. However, instead of freeing them, he informed them that due to pending charges, they would be remaining in the prison for an indeterminate period of time. He wouldn't tell what the charges were or how much longer they would be held. Their demands to see the Captain were ignored. Angry and apprehensive, they had no choice but to sit and wait.

 Kathryn Janeway stood impatiently in the office of the Lom magistrate. She had arrived, accompanied by Tuvok and two members of his Security team, almost an hour ago, at the appointed time, to retrieve her three crewmembers. An aide to the Magistrate had instructed them to wait. Waiting was not something that Kathryn Janeway did well. She was anxious to get her crewmen and return to her ship. Voyager had been in orbit long enough, and it was time to resume their course for home.

Pacing restlessly, Kathryn tried to occupy her mind. She had spent almost all of last night making preparations for a romantic and uninterrupted evening with Seven. Dinner in one of her favorite restaurants in Paris, courtesy of the holodeck, a stroll down the lamp-lit esplanade that ran along the banks of the Seine, then back to her cabin for coffee and brandy. The piece-de-resistance of course, would come later, when after an exhaustive night of making love, Kathryn would slip off to sleep, Seven's warm body curled around her.

Kathryn's pleasant reverie was broken by the sound of voices outside the door to the antechamber the Voyager away team now occupied. The heavy wooden door was flung open and the Lom Magistrate stood, framed for a moment in the doorway, the light from the hall pouring in all around him. He strode in to the room, followed by two of his aides and several members of the Security Police. His expression grim, the Magistrate crossed the room to stand in front of Janeway.

"Magistrate," Kathryn greeted him, nodding her head briefly, "I was beginning to become concerned by the delay. Where are my crewmembers?"

"In their cell, where unfortunately, they will be remaining." The Magistrate declared forcefully.

"I am afraid I have some very bad news for you Captain Janeway. One of the members of my Security Police, who was involved in the altercation with your crewmembers, has died from his injuries. You will, of course, understand that this is no longer a case of simple assault. It is now one of manslaughter."

"Until we can ascertain which of the three is directly responsible for the death, we will be detaining all of them. As Magistrate of Lom, it is my sworn duty to see that justice is served. I expect to receive your full cooperation in this matter. My aide will be in touch with you, as soon as we are able to make a determination. At that point, the other two women will be free to leave Lom. However, the one responsible for the death will be tried and sentenced. On my planet, we do not believe in showing mercy toward murderers, Captain."

Kathryn Janeway stood quietly during the Magistrate's recitation, her mind reeling from the devastating news. Pushing aside the feelings of terror that clutched at her heart at the thought of leaving behind one of her crew to rot in a Lom prison cell, Kathryn forced her mind to concentrate on what needed to be done.

Gesturing toward Tuvok, Kathryn stated to the Magistrate, "This is Lt. Commander Tuvok, my Chief of Security. I am certain that he will be of great assistance to you in endeavoring to determine what happened."

"We know what happened Captain. One of your crewmembers inflicted fatal injuries on a member of the Lom Security Police. The only thing left to determine is which crew member is guilty." The Magistrate intoned, his voice firm and unrelenting.

"First, let me offer you and your people my deepest sympathies on the death of your officer. I know how painful it can be to lose a friend and colleague. That is exactly why I hope that you will understand why I will be making an inquiry of my own into this situation? I trust that you will make all of the pertinent evidence available to us. After all, the life of one of my crew hangs in the balance. No offense, Magistrate, but I couldn't, in good conscience, simply leave that to your, or anyone else's, determination. I also want to see my crewmembers. Now." Kathryn's voice was low and intense.

"I am afraid that is impossible today, Captain. The prison functions on a very strict schedule and the hours allocated for visitation are over for today. You may of course, visit them tomorrow. You have my word that they are safe and well. But then, using your technology, I am sure that you are aware of that. You have been monitoring their status, haven't you Captain?"

"As for information, it is at your disposal, Captain Janeway. We have nothing to hide. We are only interested in justice. As are you, I hope. We are aware that with your transporter technology, there is nothing that we could do to stop you from simply beaming your crewmembers from the prison and being on your way. However, having had the pleasure of spending time with you and your crew while you have been visiting us here on Lom, I know that you have an equally high regard for morality and ethics. We trust that you will wish to see justice done for this poor man and his family. I sincerely pray that you will abide by whatever decision is made in this matter. But I can only rely on your word and your own sense of honor in this case. Any information you wish will be made available to you. You have my word, Captain."

Throughout his little speech the Magistrate stared meaningfully into Kathryn's eyes, attempting no doubt to make his sincerity clear. Something about the whole performance gnawed at the back of Kathryn's mind. Perhaps that was it. It all seemed too rehearsed, too perfectly staged for full effect. From the theatrical throwing open of the door, to the mournful tones used by the Magistrate, there was something of a production to the scene that perturbed Janeway. After all why couldn't the Magistrate have contacted her before she left the ship? It seemed that all of this had been carefully arranged for the maximum effect. Glancing over at Tuvok, Kathryn tried to determine from his ever-present stoic demeanor, whether he shared her doubts about the Magistrate's veracity. A slight quirk to his eyebrow was all the indication Janeway needed to assure her that her questions were valid.

"Very well, I will return in the morning to see them. I do not expect there to be any problem at that point, Magistrate," Janeway declared, the veiled threat hanging in the air between them.

For now, however, the most important thing was finding out exactly what happened and finding a way to get her three crewmembers back on board Voyager. Tapping her Comm badge, Janeway ordered, "Janeway to Voyager. Four to beam up."

"Four, Captain?" Harry Kim responded, puzzlement evident in his tone. The Captain had left to retrieve B'Elanna, and Seven and Sam Wildman. There should have been seven people to beam back up.

"Four, Mr. Kim. Energize."

As soon as the transporter beam faded away, Kathryn Janeway was off the transporter pad, moving quickly toward the Bridge, Tuvok keeping pace by her side.

"Gather as much information from the Lom as you can get. I want to know which one of the guards died, the exact cause of death, the time of death, any other pertinent information. Find as many witnesses to the altercation in the market as you can, find out what they saw, if they could testify that the guard's injuries weren't serious. Use any and all personnel that you need, but I want results in twenty-four hours."

Stepping into the Turbolift, Janeway barked out, "Bridge."

Alone in the lift with Tuvok, Kathryn felt the hand of fear she had pushed aside earlier slip its skeletal digits around her heart, the fingers squeezing tightly, causing an answering ache to spread across her chest. The thought that she had been trying to avoid came slithering back as well, twining snakelike through her brain, and refusing this time to be pushed aside.

"Tuvok, find out who they're accusing. I need to know which one of them may have inflicted the fatal injuries." Kathryn almost whispered, her eyes a flat, dark grey.

"If indeed, these injuries were the result of a blow or blows, then it is highly unlikely that Ensign Wildman could be responsible. She lacks the physical strength necessary to strike an opponent with sufficient force to kill. Therefore, it seems reasonable to assume that either Lieutenant Torres or Seven of Nine was responsible. Both women possess ample strength and skill to incapacitate or eliminate an adversary." Tuvok stated calmly, knowing that his words were exactly what his Captain did not want to hear.

The chime to Kathryn Janeway's Ready Room sounded, startling her from her contemplation of the planet spinning in orbit beneath the hull of her ship. She had been sitting on the couch, staring out the viewport for hours now, too tired to sleep. Tuvok's investigation had hit roadblock after roadblock. The information provided by the Lom had been sketchy at best. The death certificate had been vague as to the exact cause of death, merely listing it as "Due to injuries sustained in the line of duty." There appeared to be no corroborating statements from any witnesses other than fellow Security Police, and the Medical Examiner was unavailable, having just left with his family for an extended vacation.

Tuvok had attempted to interview several of the merchants and vendors in the market, but had meet with a standard response of, "Sorry, I can't help you. I wasn't (there) (paying attention) " or Kathryn's personal favorite, "It happens all the time. I wasn't really interested." It was apparent to the Voyager crew that there was something stopping the people of the market from helping them, and Kathryn was willing to bet it was fear.

Fear was an emotion that Kathryn found herself very familiar with these days. They had yet to receive word from the Lom as to which of the women they would be charging with the crime. Kathryn tried not to let herself think about it, but the thought kept creeping back like a wayward child, insistent and needy. Unless Tuvok could manage to come up with some information that would clear all three women, Kathryn faced the very real possibility of having to decide whether to go against everything she had been taught as a Star Fleet officer, against everything she believed in. If the choice became leaving one of her crew to spend the remainder of her life alone in a Lom prison or violating her own principles, then Kathryn knew that she would choose the latter, without hesitation. She prayed that she wouldn't have to make that choice. Especially if the choice involved Seven.

Kathryn had been hit rather forcefully with the knowledge that no matter how hard she tried to separate her professional and personal lives, when it came to a situation like this, her heart seemed determined to emerge the victor. The idea of leaving Seven behind was simply incomprehensible. Kathryn knew that if it came to that, she would turn over control of Voyager to Chakotay and remain behind on Lom, visiting Seven every day, and doing everything she could to get her released. The fact that the Lom's lack of technology in their prisons made that choice unnecessary, did nothing to lessen the impact of that knowledge.

To realize, after all of these years, that there was something, someone, more important to Kathryn Janeway than her ship or her career, was a devastating and soul-blistering insight. A line or two from a poem she had read last night came back to her, bringing a self-deprecating smile to her beautiful face.

She wondered briefly if Seven would appreciate the irony of the situation. For some reason it seemed appropriate that the Borg should have an appreciation of irony. As the chime sounded again Kathryn gathered up her wayward thoughts.

Rising from the couch and ruefully massaging the muscles at the back of her neck, Kathryn moved over to sit behind her desk. She should at least give the appearance that she was working.

"Come."

Ensign Tom Paris came slowly into the room, none of the usual cockiness evident in his step or demeanor. He had been quite subdued since the Captain and Tuvok had returned from the surface without the three women. The idea that B'Elanna or Sam or Seven might be charged with manslaughter and sentenced to a long prison term, had taken the wind out of his sails. For the first few days of their captivity, he had made jokes about his "jailbird" girlfriend, making references to 20th century slang that left most of the crew bewildered. Now, however, Tom was serious, offering to assist Tuvok in his investigation in any way he could.

"Any word, Captain?"

"Nothing new I'm afraid. Tuvok has beamed back down. He's going to try to meet with some of the other guards, get their version of the story. He also wants to see if he can locate the boy who started the whole thing, in a manner of speaking. He may be able to tell us something."

"It's not looking good is it, Captain?" Paris' voice sounded unusually restrained.

Moving around her desk, Janeway placed a comforting hand on Paris' shoulder. Smiling her best "I'm the Captain and everything is going to be all right" smile, Kathryn gave his shoulder a light squeeze before responding.

"I promise you, Tom, we will find out what happened and we will get them out of there. You have my word on it."

Hesitating for an instant before he spoke, Paris took a deep breath and finally voiced the words that so many of the crew had been thinking.

"Why don't we just beam them out of there right now and get the hell out of here? They're not our laws, and it's obvious that something fishy is going on. Why even wait around and give them the chance to move them somewhere we can't get to them or worse?"

"Tom, you know the answer to that. You don't need me to tell you. That's not who we are. That goes against everything we have been taught to believe. We need to make the effort to adhere to their laws, to follow their regulations until we have good reason not to. I swear to you, we will not leave here until we find a way to clear all of them of these charges."

"And if we can't? If it comes down to leaving one of them to rot in jail or violating our regulations and beaming them out, what then, Captain? Are you willing to leave B'Elanna here? Or tell Naomi that we had to leave her Mom behind? And what about Seven? Are you willing to give her up after finally finding each other?"

"You are so out of line, Ensign," Janeway responded, her voice as cold as liquid nitrogen.

"I'm sorry, Captain, it's just that..."

Raising her hand to forestall any further comment from him, Kathryn moved back around her desk and sat carefully in her chair. She contemplated the top of her desk for a few moments, tracing the lines in the veneer of the wood, patterns that twisted and turned, offering no answers. Finally she raised her eyes to his.

"We will not leave anyone behind," she said slowly, emphasizing every syllable.

"Are you saying that we will beam them out if it becomes necessary?"

"You heard me, Mr. Paris. We will not leave anyone behind." Kathryn repeated, her dark grey eyes never leaving Tom's.

"Go and see if you can help Tuvok with his depositions. I'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."

Tom opened his mouth to respond, thought better of it, opened it again, and finally, simply nodded his head in assent.

"Dismissed."

"Aye, Captain."

"And, Captain? Thanks."

 Kathryn's visit to the prison had been without incident. Well, almost without incident. B'Elanna had not taken the news of their continued incarceration in the spirit that Janeway had hoped. After listening to Torres rant and curse for about ten minutes, Kathryn had informed her that if she didn't at least attempt to behave in a manner befitting a Starfleet officer, that when they returned to Voyager, B'Elanna would be looking back on this experience with fond memories. The Magistrate had only allocated twenty minutes for the visit, explaining to Janeway that he had to consider the ramifications of too much information being shared in light of a future trial.

Kathryn had been able to talk to Seven in relative privacy for a few minutes. She attempted to reassure Seven, as she had with all of them, that she would find a way to get all of them out of there, even if it meant the possibility of compromising her principles and beaming them out. Mostly though, she tried to simply relish being near her, their fingers touching through the cold metal bars of the cell door. Whispering, "I love you," Kathryn had left the prison, a fracture forming, gaping and raw, in her soul at the parting sight of Seven, standing behind those solid bars, a small reassuring smile on her full lips. The incongruity of her beauty, the silver-blonde of her hair, the piercing blue of those lovely eyes, set against the backdrop of dark gray granite walls seared the image into Kathryn's mind.

Now Janeway sat once again in her ready Room, waiting for Tuvok to return to the ship. He had beamed back down to the planet, resolved to obtain any information he could that would clear his crewmates. So far, his investigation had yielded nothing but the certain knowledge that things were not as they should be on Lom. Kathryn was convinced that some sort of cover-up was being perpetrated. If they could simply discover a way to uncover what it was.

"Come," Janeway responded as the chime to the door sounded.

Tuvok came slowly into the room, the pace of his steps giving a clear indication that the news was not good. He came to a stop in front of Kathryn's desk.

"Well? Anything at all?" She asked somewhat brusquely, the strain of the past few days evident in her voice.

"I have interviewed all of the merchants and vendors in the immediate area of the fight. I have also conducted several interviews with shoppers who were in the market that day. Combined with the information provided to us by the Lom Magistrate, I must confess, Captain, I have been unable to discover any persons or information that will contradict the official charge levied by the Lom."

Sighing deeply, Kathryn swiveled her chair, turning to her right to face the viewport along the far wall. She had been hoping that Tuvok would be able to come up with some information that would justify a decision to simply beam her people out of the prison. Anything that might show that the charges being made against them were false or misplaced would allow her to make the decision with a relatively clear conscience. It appeared that she would not be afforded that small measure of justification. She would have to make this decision to violate her principles without the benefit of actual evidence, only with conjecture. Janeway wondered if that would be enough to let her sleep at night, knowing that not only had she deprived the family of the dead guard of a measure of justice, but that she had caused one more chink in the foundation of everything she believed in.

Tuvok remained standing, something in his manner alerting her that he had further bad news.

"You found out something didn't you? What is it?" she asked, not really certain she wanted to know.

"I encountered the Magistrate in the course of my investigations today. He informed me that the Lom have ascertained to their satisfaction which of the three was responsible for the death."

Kathryn ran her tongue slowly over her suddenly dry lips. She knew that Tuvok was waiting for her to ask which one it was. It would be easier not to ask, not to know. Kathryn Janeway however, never picked the easy choice.

Looking up at him, her eyes a steely grey, her face expressionless she asked the question.

"Who are they charging?"

Only someone who had known her as long as Tuvok had would have picked up on the slight waver in her husky voice.

"Lieutenant Torres."

Kathryn felt some small part of her release, an inner sigh of relief so profound she could feel it in every part of her body. She had been trying so hard not to think about it, not to consider the very real possibility that Seven would be the one charged. If she didn't allow herself to consider it at all, then she could close off that part of her mind that prayed that it wouldn't be Seven, that part that even now was awash with relief. That part of herself of which Kathryn was acutely ashamed. She was the Captain. She should not feel relief that any member of her crew had been charged with killing a man. It went against every instinct, and, yet, there it was. She was allayed by the knowledge that the woman she loved was free.

With a sigh of self-disgust, Kathryn rose from her chair, moving swiftly over to the replicator.

"Coffee, black."

Cup in hand, she returned to her desk. Sitting down, she looked up meet Tuvok's impassive gaze.

"I want to meet with the Magistrate again. I need to know exactly what their intentions are in this matter. Make arrangements for him to meet with us at sixteen hundred hours. In the meantime, have Harry step up his research on Lom law and jurisprudence. I want to be fully prepared to defend B'Elanna against this charge."

Nodding briskly to her, Tuvok turned and left the room. Alone with her thoughts, Kathryn felt once again the waves of relief wash over her. That they were followed quickly by waves of disgust at her selfishness was only slightly soothing to her. This is what Kathryn had worried about, this desire on her part to protect Seven no matter what, even going so far as to feel relief that another of her crew had been charged with this crime. She had kept from becoming involved with a member of her crew, fearing that loving one person would run the very real risk of placing the rest in jeopardy. Now, it seemed, her fears had been at least partially justified. B'Elanna was her Chief Engineer and her friend, and yet, all that Kathryn could feel in those first moments after Tuvok's announcement, was assuaged.

"This is Kathryn Janeway, Captain of the Federation Starship Voyager. You have information regarding the death of the Lom Security Police officer?"

The Magistrate stood gazing out the window, the market, a constantly changing mass of goods and people, spread out before him like a sumptuous banquet, prepared only for him. In a few minutes Janeway would arrive, no doubt anxious to do whatever was necessary to free her people. A smirk of amusement and satisfaction slipped across his face, unpleasant and presumptuous.

The sound of voices heralded the arrival of the Captain and her rather stoic aide. The Magistrate pasted on a false expression of sympathy and concern, a player, as well as the director, in this morality play.

Crossing the room to take her hand in his, the Magistrate was so intent on his own part, that he failed to appreciate the look on Kathryn Janeway's face. Pulling away the hand he had grasped as if she had been in contact with a Venuvian Slime Monster, Kathryn rounded on him, her voice clipped and frosty.

"You've been lying to me, Magistrate."

"Captain, I have no idea to what you're referring. I can assure you that I have been completely up-front and honest with you from the outset," he replied, sincerity fairly oozing from his lips.

"Spare me the rest of this drama you've cooked up. To tell you the truth, it's badly written and even more poorly acted," Kathryn drawled derisively.

"Again, I must profess my ignorance, Captain. I was hoping to be able to offer you and your crew member some assistance, some leniency perhaps."

"In return for a modest fee of course?"

"Well, I was thinking that it would serve justice and my people more to collect a large fine from you, a sort of settlement if you will, rather than incarcerating your crewmember for years. That would only cost my people money for food and housing. However, collecting a sum of our currency would allow me to continue in my efforts to fight crime and poverty," he finished sanctimoniously.

"By increasing the number of collectors?" Janeway asked, a look of distaste curling her lip.

"Collectors, Captain?"

"For your protection ring. You know the one. Where your thugs go around, extorting money from innocent, terrified merchants," Kathryn drawled, the corners of her mouth turning up ever so slightly.

She could see the indecision in his eyes. He was debating whether to continue to profess his innocence and ignorance of the situation. Slowly, a snide grin made its way across his face. Chuckling softly, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

"You win, Captain. But, you are mistaken in your assessment of my motives. I do these things for my people, to help do away with the crime and poverty that plague this planet. We all must pay for our collective freedom, Captain. We all must play our part. The money that is gathered from the merchants helps me tremendously in my efforts to raise Lom to the position she deserves to hold in this system. You may not approve of my methods, but you must agree that my goals are admirable. I love my people, Captain Janeway, and I will use whatever means I deem appropriate to insure their continued safety and prosperity."

"You don't love your people. Loving people doesn't allow you to terrorize them, to harm them for your own interests. Love means that you protect them, that you use your wisdom to guide them. That you use your strength to support them and help them grow. Frankly, Magistrate, the only person you love, is you. I only pray that soon, your people will realize that. I hope they show you more compassion then you have ever shown them."

"I'm beaming my people out of your jail and then Voyager will be leaving orbit. I wouldn't advise you to try and hinder us in any way," Kathryn said softly, just a trace of menace in her tone.

Tapping her Comm badge, she ordered, "Harry, beam up all members of Voyager's crew currently on the planet."

"Aye, Captain."

As the transporter beam gathered her up, Kathryn offered a silent prayer that the people of Lom would soon be free of despotism.

Stepping off the transporter pad, Kathryn asked the ship's computer, "Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

Smiling to herself, Kathryn tapped her com badge. "Janeway to Chakotay."

"Welcome back, Captain. I understand your negotiations were a success." Kathryn could hear the smile in her First Officer's voice.

"Very much so. Get us out of here, Chakotay. Back on course for the Alpha Quadrant. You have the bridge for a couple days, if you don't mind."

"Say hello to Seven for me, Captain."

Shaking her head at the familiarity she had allowed to creep into her Senior Staff, Kathryn walked swiftly down the corridors of her ship, now safely back on course for home.

Arriving at the door of her quarters, Kathryn paused for a moment, willing the tension that had been her constant companion for the past week to leave. So much had happened, so many beliefs had been shattered and a good portion of Kathryn's citadel lay in ruins at her feet. There would be time to begin to reevaluate, to talk about all that had occured. For right now though, all that Kathryn wanted to do was wrap her arms around Seven's slender waist and bury her face in that long, lovely neck and forget about the rest of the universe, even for just a few short hours.

Activating the panel on the door, Kathryn crossed the threshold to find Seven standing in the center of the room, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Without a word, Kathryn moved into the circle of her arms, breathing in the wonderful, familiar scent of her skin and hair. They stood there for a long time, conscious only of the beating of their two hearts, that, together once more, fell into a timeless rhythm with each other, unchanging and constant as the movement of the stars. After a long while, Kathryn looked up into Seven's eyes, feeling, as always, as if she had boldly dived into water of the clearest blue, fathomless and glacial, sinking without struggle into their depths.

"You were incorrect, Kathryn," Seven said, those eyes holding a distinct twinkle.