Gretchen prepared for bed beside an open window and listened to the murmur of voices from the porch below. The storm had broken late in the evening, leaving a cool freshness that soothed weary nerves. The two women were sitting on the porch swing talking. Kathryn had called it a 'philosophical discussion.' She could clearly distinguish between the two voices--Kathryn's low husky rumble and Seven's surprisingly melodic tone. If she concentrated, she knew she could understand their conversation, but the occasional laugh from Kathryn more than satisfied her curiosity. It also made her heart ache--it had been so long since she had heard it. She smiled to herself at the thought that her daughter's laughter had not been the only wonder of the evening.
She and Phoebe had awaited Kathryn's return from Starfleet as they always did-in their own version of a death watch. Phoebe would show up a little after five and they would sit at the kitchen table, Gretchen occasionally going to the stove to check on dinner or to refill their cups. They drank coffee and talked very little, each lost in their own thoughts. They stuck to it because it was the one night they all sat down together as a family.
In the beginning, just after Voyager returned, they had hopes that she would come home and be their Kathryn again. That she would talk to them about the delta quadrant, let them into her own hell. Until now, however, they learned more from the newsfeeds than they ever did from Kathryn. They tried to get her to talk about it at first, but gave up when the Janeway "Damn the torpedoes" attitude kicked in. Even Phoebe's incessant little-sister questions could not crack the shell. Kathryn spent most of her days walking through the fields or visiting friends or playing with Molly. It was not normal for her. She was always one to be busy, one you had to slow down.
So, after a while they grew used to the silence, awkward as it was. Gretchen realized it was only maternal instinct that kept her from pushing, allowing Kathryn to work it out on her own. God knows, Kathryn is always one to refuse help if at all possible. Gretchen also knew that if Edward were still alive, it would have been different. She'd have unburdened herself to him the first night home.
The storm had blown up not long after Kathryn left, with lightning spider-webbing across the sky and distant cracks of thunder. Phoebe had finally dashed across the field during a slight lull. It was long after dark that they heard Molly's first bark. They looked at each other, grimly put on their best faces, and braced for the dinner ordeal. Then there was another sound--the whirring of a shuttlecraft engine and relief flooded through her at the thought of company to break up the uneasiness. Gretchen smiled to herself in the dark, not having considered that the person on the shuttle might make things worse-or even that it might be someone she really didn't want in her house. At that point, they couldn't care less who it was.
Phoebe went to put up Molly, who did not behave well with visitors. Gretchen stepped onto the front porch, watching as the shuttle circled slowly in the pouring rain, landing softly on the front lawn. She had long ago adjusted to her eldest daughter's notion of prior notice-or lack thereof. Kathryn was just like her father in that respect.
Phoebe closed the front screen door and stepped up beside her mother. The hatch had opened and they could see two people inside. Kathryn, of course, in her familiar uniform and someone in civilian clothing. When they stepped from the shuttle and ran for the porch, she saw it was a tall blonde woman, dressed in a close-fitting suit. When they reached the aura of light from the porch, Gretchen saw the glitter of implants on the young woman's face and swallowed hard. She heard Phoebe's sharp intake of breath and whisper of "oh boy." They both knew who she was, of course. Gretchen remembered thinking that her presence easily increased the technology in her house a hundredfold.
But Gretchen's years of experience with whatever or whomever her husband and daughter dragged home prepared her. She put on a smile, nudging Phoebe to do the same, and welcomed them into her house.
Kathryn introduced them to Seven of Nine, explaining that her real name was Annika Hansen, but that she preferred to be called Seven. And that she was no longer Borg. It was difficult to believe that statement, given the obvious technology still present. She and Phoebe continued to operate on autopilot, trying not to stare. They had seen video of Borg and heard stories, but never seen one in person. Now they had.
Gretchen started to motion them towards the table for dinner. It had only been saved from overcooking by a stasis chamber-technology she had not allowed in her house until Kathryn had returned home. She just could not bring herself to enforce a dinner hour with her daughter fading away before her eyes. If Gretchen didn't cook, Kathryn wouldn't eat. So, for the first time in her own house, she relaxed the standing dinner-hour policy.
But Seven had abruptly interrupted the procession to the dining room. The tall blonde offered her a gift--some rare herbs which she had purchased in San Francisco. It was presented most formally and with a bland expression. Gretchen thanked her, not quite sure what to say. She felt Phoebe stiffen at her side, taken aback by the incongruity of such a thoughtful gesture presented in such a cool manner. Then she saw Seven's shy glance at Kathryn, as if to see if she had handled it correctly. And then the look on her daughter's face, one of pride and overwhelming affection. A look she had literally not seen in years. It brought a lump to her throat and she decided that if Kathryn had brought home a Romulan general, he would be wined and dined, as long as he brought a smile to her daughter's face.
It was only when Gretchen and Phoebe were in the kitchen, dishing out dinner into the serving bowls that Phoebe asked the question of the day: "So, what do you say to a Borg?"
"Ex-Borg."
"Okay, ex-Borg. Any ideas?"
"My guess is Kathryn will take care of that."
Phoebe had figured out several years back that her mother sometimes said things forcefully not because she was confident in being right, but because she wanted her family to think she was. So, no longer was fooled by the tone in her mother's voice, Phoebe just raised an eyebrow and gave her a look.
Gretchen sighed. "Okay, we'll just have to play it by ear."
But Gretchen had been right after all. Kathryn began asking the young woman about the research project she had been working on, and Gretchen had to admit it was an interesting conversation topic. The girl was shy at first, of all things. That only lasted until Phoebe started in on her. Honestly, her younger daughter could be an intelligence-gathering operative for Starfleet. Seven seemed to take it all in stride, as if it were normal for someone to pepper her with questions about anything and everything. Phoebe seemed to be working toward questions about the delta quadrant, most specifically about embarrassing incidents related to her sister. After listening for a while, it became obvious to Gretchen that there was a warm and caring person beneath the cool Borg exterior. The facade was just her way of dealing with not knowing what to do, what to say, with being thrown into a situation that she did not always understand.
When the science project topic had been exhausted, Gretchen took the bull by the horns. "Do you have family, Seven?"
"My parents were assimilated when I was." She said this in an impersonal tone, reciting facts. She immediately softened her voice when she saw the shocked look on her hostess' face. "I do, however, have relatives."
"Have you seen them?"
"I spent several days with my grandparents, aunts and uncles when I first returned."
"And?"
"I was not what they expected." It was a sign of how comfortable they had become that none of the Janeways kept from smiling.
"How so?" Kathryn prodded her with a gentle tone.
"They wanted me to believe that my parents were not foolhardy in chasing the Borg. I made it clear that I would never agree with that assessment, but they would not let the matter rest." Gretchen had found herself studying the young woman intently, trying to read whatever subtle signs of emotion might be there. If it had been painful for the young woman, you would never know from the tone of her voice.
"I am a very different person from the three-year-old they remember. I sometimes thought they wanted her back again. They continued to address me as 'Little Annika' after I made it clear that my designation was Seven."
"Perhaps you should give them some time to adjust. That's a lot of adjusting for a very short time." Kathryn had cleared her throat before speaking, which had been a sure sign that there had been much emotion in Seven that Gretchen could not yet see.
"Perhaps."
The room was quiet, save the tattoo of rain on the roof and the faint whimper of Molly wanting out of confinement.
Kathryn broke the silence with a quiet voice. "They thought you were dead, Seven. Then they had to see that you aren't completely human anymore. Humans require time to adjust to rapid change. It's just our nature to cling to what we know."
"Is that why you have not received another commission? Are you still adjusting?"
Gretchen blinked rapidly at the sudden turn in the conversation, holding her breath waiting for Kathryn's answer, not daring to look at her.
Kathryn had studied her coffee cup for some time before replying. "Yes, in a way. There is a political situation brewing that is complicating things. But, yes, I have had difficulties in adjusting."
Gretchen had tried not to release her breath in one big gasp. It was a monumental admission from her proud daughter.
Seven looked around the room before saying, "This is very different from Voyager."
"I certainly hope so," Gretchen choked, breaking the tension of a room suddenly gone too still, laughing as she wiped her eyes.
Kathryn had then insisted on giving her guest a tour of the house while Phoebe and her mother cleared the table. It was after this, when the two of them sat in the living area watching the tour, that Gretchen saw that Kathryn still wore her uniform. She had been so intrigued by the Borg that she had not even noticed. It also seemed to her that her daughter's step on the stairs had recovered a little bit of it's firmness.
They returned from the tour with Molly in tow, surprisingly well-behaved. Kathryn announced that they needed to install a regeneration alcove for Seven but Gretchen could only be persuaded to allow it in the shed. She drew the line at having that much hardware in her house.
Kathryn had pouted a bit, mumbled something about Seven being a guest, but gave in quickly when she saw her mother's withering glare. The two of them had gone back out into the rain to transport and install whatever an alcove was.
Phoebe had left after the storm broke, but only after extracting a promise from the young visitor to pose for her. Seven had been puzzled by the request and only agreed to it after Kathryn nodded her approval.
Gretchen climbed into bed after putting out the light in the hall. Now the voices were low, falling into long pauses. She could also hear the contented grunts of a well-petted dog. She supposed that Molly lay sprawled in one of her favorite spots-on the swing, probably nestled between the two women.
She awoke with a start and looked over to see that it was nearly 3:00. The house was silent; voices no longer wafted up from the back porch. When she didn't hear anything, she wondered at what awakened her. She started to turn over when her heard a faint footfall on the stairs. It was not the familiar tread of one of her daughters, so it had to be Seven. She got out of bed quietly and went into the hallway to see if Seven needed help. But Seven had found the right bedroom to begin with and stepped in.
Gretchen slipped down the hallway, pushing down the thought that she was intruding. It was her own house, after all. When she reached the door, she saw Seven standing next to the bed, hands behind her back, at attention. She was watching Kathryn and Molly sleep. Gretchen could not see the woman's face and a sudden unreasoning fear washed over her that the Borg would harm her daughter. She was immediately ashamed of the thought, but for a mother who believed her daughter was lost for eight years, she'd earned the right to be little paranoid. Finally, she decided her daughter was in no danger and stayed where she was.
She was about to step up and say something when Molly couldn't stand it anymore and crawled to the edge of the bed, begging to be petted. Kathryn's body stiffened and she awoke. Gretchen had a feeling that without Molly's intervention, Seven would have stood there for some time, just watching Kathryn sleep.
Kathryn looked up from her pillow, blinking and clearly gathering her thoughts. "Seven. What is it?" she finally said, her voice thick with sleep.
"My regeneration period has been interrupted and I am unable to restart it." The soft voice seemed to be absorbed by the darkness.
"Is there something wrong with the alcove? Maybe we didn't get the plasma conduit calibrated correctly." Kathryn sat up, sliding toward the headboard and looking over at the clock.
"The alcove is functioning within normal parameters." The voice was now a little shaky, Gretchen thought.
Kathryn looked back up at the woman standing before her, drawing up her knees and hugging them to her chest. "Then what is it, Seven?"
"I do not wish to disturb you, Captain. I just . . . " Seven looked away, out the window.
"Feeling a little lonely?"
"Borg do not . . ." she started automatically, but trailed away quickly.
Kathryn moved to the far side of the bed, lifting the covers and pushing Molly to the foot. She patted a spot next to her.
Seven did not understand at first. "Captain, I don't . . ."
"It's okay, Seven. Everyone gets lonely now and then. You do sleep now, don't you?"
"Yes."
"Well then, get in and let me get back to sleep."
The young woman stood for a moment longer, watching Kathryn settle back in. It didn't take a genius to see that the young woman was confused between the need for comfort and the need for distance. Distance had protected her for so long. Finally, she climbed in gingerly. Gretchen stifled a groan at the memory of the shoes Seven was wearing. Those sheets were not replicated, and her daughter would be replacing them the next time she went into town.
After a few minutes, Gretchen moved a little closer. Seven was stretched out on the left side of the bed, ramrod straight, hands interlaced across her stomach. Kathryn was already curled up again, asleep, with a hand resting on top of Seven's. Just as Gretchen turned to leave she heard the young woman say something in a whisper. "I have missed you, Captain."
Gretchen tiptoed back to her own bed, not feeling a bit guilty at her blatant eavesdropping. It was with mixed emotions that she realized that her instincts had been right about her daughter's affection for the Borg-Seven. She just wondered how long it would be before Kathryn admitted it to herself.
********
The following week went by in a blur of activity. After adjusting the alcove to the proper specifications, Kathryn decided that they should build a smaller version of Voyager's Astrometrics lab in the Janeway garden shed. That way, she could assist Seven with her research. She would not be dissuaded. So Kathryn threw herself into it as a woman possessed. It was not unusual for Gretchen to trip over some piece of equipment in the front hallway, yelling at her daughter to come and pick up her toys. For all her reservations about all this technology, Gretchen was more than pleased to have a happier daughter. The darkness still shaded Kathryn's eyes, but now she was too busy to brood.
The day before Kathryn's appointment with Starfleet, Seven had gone somewhere to procure a few more inverters, whatever that was. She did not expect to return until late in the evening, but sent a message that she would indeed be home for dinner. Then she returned in plenty of time for the dinner hour, which is more than Kathryn ever did. Gretchen was in the kitchen putting the final touches on a fruit and salad plate when Seven returned.
"Mrs. Janeway," she stated in a polite voice, standing at attention in the center of the kitchen.
Gretchen laughed. "Please, Seven, you can call me Gretchen. We've had this conversation before."
"I am still uncomfortable with the custom of addressing Captain Janeway's mother by her first name," she stated firmly.
"I know, but surely you have been here long enough . . ."
"I am sure that I will eventually become comfortable with informalities."
"By the way, thank you for fixing the saucepan handle. It has been broken for longer than I can remember."
"I abided by your rules regarding technology. I did not replicate anything to complete the repair," Seven pointed out carefully. "I used tools I found in the shed."
"Thank you, Seven. But you know that you don't have to fix everything in the house. I've lived with this saucepan for years."
"Yes, but it is most inefficient to use utensils that are not in proper working order." Seven paused and tilted her head to the left. "Have I been impolite?"
"Heavens, no, Seven. I just thought that you would have better things to do with your time."
"I enjoy contributing to the workings of the household. It is no trouble."
"Well, then, how about getting those rolls out of the oven and into that basket. Dinner's almost ready."
Seven carefully picked up a potholder and opened the oven. "Where is the captain?"
"Um, Kathryn didn't expect you. She's gone out for the evening."
"She is on a date?"
Gretchen was surprised. "Yes, with an old friend from school days. I'm sure she won't be late." At least I hope she won't. She had gotten a message from Starfleet not long after Seven left that had upset her terribly. Then she couldn't get out of the house fast enough.
"I see. What activity did they choose?"
Gretchen hid her smile. "I think they went to dinner and then a walk along the river. It's a standard evening's entertainment around here-not much goes on."
"I am familiar with dating rituals," she said as she neatly placed the rolls in the basket.
"Oh?" Gretchen said faintly. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear about it.
"I attempted a date with a crewmember of Voyager. I failed and did not wish to endanger another crewmember."
Gretchen pushed down the mental images that sprang to mind, fully aware that for all of Seven's avowed knowledge of dating rituals, she was an innocent. She kept her voice on an even keel. It was a skill she had honed during a week full of surprises. "How did you injure him?"
"I attempted a maneuver while dancing that dislocated his shoulder."
Gretchen smiled warmly at her definition of failure. "Most people don't do well on their very first date, Seven. It always seems like there is so much more at stake than there really is. I am sure you would have no problem finding someone else to take you out." Now there's an understatement, she thought, ex-Borg or no.
"One of the scientists in the study offered to do so on a daily basis. He was impolite and therefore I ruled him out as a suitable mate."
"Oh, Seven, dating is not about finding a mate, not really. It's about finding out more about yourself. What you like, what you don't like. So when you meet someone who really matters, you will know it."
"You believe I should have dated the scientist."
"Was rudeness his only drawback?"
"Yes. His comments were in a tone of voice which I found insulting. Another female member of the team informed me that it was called innuendo and that he was making oblique references to various parts of my anatomy. It is a method of saying something of a sexual nature without being explicit. Once I understood, I found it most informative."
Gretchen just managed not to spit out the coffee she had been sipping. "Informative?"
"It taught me that language is a most flexible and useful talent to master."
"I see." Gretchen cleared her throat. "Well, you know that innuendo in a working environment is not just rude, it is harassment."
"Then I was correct in refusing his advances."
"Yes, Seven, I would say that you exercised good judgement in that situation."
"Thank you, Mrs. Janeway. I believe it is now 6:00 and time for dinner."
"Yes, it is. We may as well start. Phoebe will be her when she is good and ready." Phoebe had been taking advantage of the relaxing of the dinnertime rules, but tonight she would eat cold food.
********
Kathryn insisted on being taken home. It had been a disaster from the beginning. It was the first time she'd been out in a while, and if she had forgotten why she stopped dating, the wrestling match on the park bench had brought it all back quickly.
When she had first returned to Indiana for the counselor-mandated rest, she had been suddenly bereft of her crew, her whole life. She stood under the shadow of a court-martial, and there was no place for her at Starfleet. Her commission was still valid, but it wasn't worth squat without a posting. She had decided that being home would be better than the college widow routine in San Francisco, but it took only a few weeks to realize she had been wrong.
So when one of her old classmates asked her out within a month of being home, she had jumped at the chance. Memories of a happier time would replace the loneliness in her heart for the only family she had known for eight years. A kiss under a streetlamp next to the restaurant had unleashed years of unspent hormones, and turned into a mind-and body-numbing marathon.
But she had chosen quickly, not wisely. The lout bragged about the most famous captain in the Federation and she had a succession of dates that ended in much the same way. Desperate clenches that exhausted her and allowed her to forget who she was, what she had done.
She stopped the whole mess when the 104-year old garbage man hit on her one morning while taking Molly for a run.
Until tonight.
She managed to get home without too much more fuss, and tried to get to the door before him. In some perverted twist of fate, Gretchen had left the porch light off and when she hesitated, trying to get her bearings, he caught her from behind, groping her, trying to kiss her. She was a strong woman, but he outweighed her by a hundred pounds. He had her pinned against the house and she quickly realized that she would not get away by force.
"Enough," she said quietly, not wanting to raise the household. And Seven. Seven was due any minute, if she weren't already here.
"Just one more kiss and then I'll go," he said.
She stilled, not giving in right away. Anything to get him away from her. "Promise?"
"Scout's honor."
"You were never a scout."
"Okay, okay, I promise."
She tried to squirm to a position where she could kick him, but he held her firmly.
He didn't wait for her permission, just pressed his whole body against hers, rubbing against her. He brought her head into line and kissed her fiercely. When it became clear he was not going to stop, she began struggling again, but he just leaned into her harder, if that were possible.
"Captain, I see you have returned." The metallic voice came from the darkness somewhere to the left of the porch. Even knowing it was Seven did not keep the chills from going up Janeway's spine. He pulled away immediately, squinting in the darkness, trying to see the source. He still held Kathryn's arm tightly pinned. He didn't even know if it were a man or a woman, or some technological trick.
"Perhaps you would like me to escort this gentleman to his vehicle?"
Now a faint red glow pierced the darkness with a strange whirring sound.
"Uh, no," he said, backing away, hands up. "I was just leaving."
After he tripped down the steps and left in a cloud of dust, Seven turned to the captain. Her enhanced vision allowed her to see angry tears and shame color a face that looked bruised. She gentled her voice. "Are you all right, Captain?"
"I'm fine, Seven. Thanks."
"Was I wrong to intrude?"
"No, no," Kathryn said, reaching to touch the young woman's arm. "Not at all. I'd have gotten rid of him sooner or later, but you did it more efficiently than I could have. Thank you." Seven's enhanced hearing caught the shaky tone.
"You're welcome, Captain."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Captain." Seven did not know what the proper ritual was for this situation, but she wanted to hug the captain, to give comfort. Instead, they went their separate ways: Seven to her alcove, Kathryn to wash off the feel of rough hands on her body.
********
Kathryn stood under the stream of hot water and cried, leaning against the shower wall, great wracking sobs. It was some time before she felt it all drain out of her. She and Seven would go somewhere together tomorrow. She would have to get on with her life.
When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, Gretchen called "goodnight" from her room, concern threading her voice.
"Goodnight, Mom."
She turned off the hall light and made her way to her own room. She left her robe on the chair by the door and crawled into bed, reaching for Molly. But she ran into something more solid.
"Seven?"
"You are upset. Everyone gets upset now and then. Please get in so I can go back to sleep."
Kathryn smiled despite herself and curled up next to Seven, exhaustion overtaking her quickly. Seven pulled the dark hair away from Kathryn's face, smoothing down the stray wet strands tenderly, much as Kathryn had taught her to pet Molly. She was surprised to hear the same kind of contented low rumble from the captain. She was progressing at understanding the rituals of friendship, she thought proudly.
********
Gretchen awoke early and went downstairs to start the coffee. Kathryn would be back from her run and from the sound of things on the front porch last night, would be cranky this morning.
She went back upstairs to take a shower and something caught her eye in a quick glance at Kathryn's room. She stepped down the hall for another look. Seven was stretched out, ramrod stiff, but Kathryn was curled up nearly on top of her, her face snugged up against Seven's neck, her arm tightly wound around her waist. Seven's left arm held her gingerly. It was amazing, but they were both still asleep.
Gretchen retreated back down the stairs, smiling. Maybe she'd been wrong about Kathryn after all. Maybe she would finally see what was so clearly before her. And now maybe Seven would finally learn to use first names.
She was back in the kitchen, reaching into a cabinet for a skillet to prepare breakfast when she had a thought and straightened up quickly. Seven had gotten past her on the stairs last night. While she was awake. She chuckled at the thought. Kathryn has certainly met her match. Maybe we all have.