She stood at attention in front of the mirror, not moving, barely conscious. The light from the window cast the right half of her face into darkness like a death mask. The dark circles under her eyes were carefully concealed, but nothing could be done to make her new uniform fit her thinning frame. It hung away from her body in odd places, making pleats and wrinkles where there should be none. But the uniform was crisply pressed and for those not really looking, she was the epitome of a Starfleet Captain. Starfleet's most famous captain.
She sighed and straightened her tunic one more time before turning away to give her quarters a last once-over. It was an efficiency apartment with a pull-out sofa bed, standard Starfleet issue. Neutral colors were easy to clean or replace, and there were no pictures on the walls to relieve the blandness. These quarters were designed to be temporary and not really intended to accommodate higher ranks. It was even more barren than usual as most of her belongings had already been packed and moved to her new ship. She picked up a small bag from the table and moved to the bathroom to clear out the last of her personal effects. After a last sweep of the main room, the bag was propped by the door. The chronometer there told her that she still had another hour to kill before she was due at the shipyards.
On her way to the replicator she reminded herself again that she finally made it. A ship, a command, a reason to live. The mug of coffee was promptly delivered and she did not seem to notice that the unit was standard-issue and probably never serviced. At this point, quantity was more important than quality where caffeine was concerned. Her eyes wandered around the room and back with nothing to hold her attention. 46 years old and living in a dorm, she thought.
She finally went to stand at the small window looking out over the vehicle maintenance facility at headquarters. She sipped warm liquid as engineers and mechanics moved around the yard, in and out of the hanger, busy at living out their lives. She wondered at what it would be like to have nothing more than the next vehicle to fix, the next inductive coil to repair, the next plasma conduit to calibrate. Everything under your physical control. How many things can really go wrong with a plasma conduit? Five? Eight? Once you know the list, you just check them one by one. No real decisions, no real authority, your only stress is making deadlines or dealing with difficult coworkers. It sounded very sane. And very boring.
It should be one of the happiest days of her life. The USS Tyrens -- her new ship -- was being christened today. A nebula-class vessel, no less. They had first offered her a scientific command but she turned it down. She had a taste of living on the edge with Voyager and liked it -- everything else paled in comparison. Her refusal of a ship pretty much solidified her reputation as the kook of Special Projects--no one ever came out of the dog house to turn down a command of any kind. But she knew what she was doing. If nothing else, her father taught her how to read the political climate well enough to know when she held the reins. She was the most famous captain. They would have to give her what she wanted if they were going to get any mileage out of her fame.
The door chime echoed loudly through the small apartment. She set down her coffee and crossed to the door. It opened on Gretchen and Phoebe, bearing gifts. She embraced them both, but it was a ritual. There wasn't much talk. Words to transition them into the apartment, no more. She was happy to see them but perhaps not happy enough. She motioned them into the room and toward the sofa.
The guests sat and placed their gifts on the table in front of them. Gretchen asked after her health with a discerning eye, and Kathryn said "I'm fine." A knowing look passed between to two intruders. They spoke of the weather, the transport delays from Indiana, the news from home. The conversation petered out quickly and a yawning silence settled in, each of the women keeping company with thoughts of the one person who should be there but wasn't.
There also had to be thoughts of the last time they acted out this ritual, before Voyager's launch. It had been the culmination of Kathryn's career up to that point. It had been champagne and laughter then. They were almost late for the ceremony. Gretchen had said "Your father would be proud of you."
Kathryn pointedly ignored the gifts and the other two did not mention them. Kathryn apologized for the replicator as she offered them refreshment and they declined. She stood by the table, shifting from one foot to the other. She put her half-full mug in the regenerator and swept the counter with an idle hand. The minutes clicked away in dreary silence one by one until finally it was time to go.
They arrived at Planetia Utopia right on time. Admiral Necharev and Admiral Paris were both there to greet them, arms outstretched. The elite of the Federation were all there. Most had pulled every string they knew to get a front row seat. Starfleet was in desperate need of good news and this was good news. Its most famous captain commanding its greatest new ship. Picard himself was to make the final speech before the official sendoff. He greeted her warmly, ever the diplomat. Even he could see she was not up to snuff, that she was wan and thin. But he led the way down to the presentation platform. Reporters swarmed the dias, their flashes making a surreal light show. The launch was broadcast live to most of the Federation and Janeway was a hero again.
Kathryn pasted a smile on her face as they quizzed her, very much aware that Picard was there to catch her if she slipped up. She posed with the admirals, with Picard, then with her family as reporters peppered her with questions about how she felt about returning to commanding a starship. But the whole time she spent in front of the crowd, she scanned the sea of faces before her, looking for the one face she knew would not be there. There were several tall blondes, each making her heart jump wildly, but in the end none of them really looked like Seven. She could imagine Seven viewing the video feed, raising an eyebrow and sighing a little at all this hoopla.
After the news conference, the group moved down the corridor to the transporter room. It was a ritual she was familiar with, one that made her heart sink into her toes. She shook hands with the dignitaries and endured the inevitable jokes about chasing Maquis and what quadrants she had left to explore now and picking up stray technology. She smiled at their attempts at humor, glad-handing the admirals, testing the limits of her frayed nerves and diplomatic training.
Then it was finally came time to go. The room hushed as the official personnel made way for her goodbye to her family. Phoebe hugged her quickly and wished her sister well. "You'll always find your way back," she said before stepping back. Gretchen held on to her tightly before leaning back to take her face between her palms, teary-eyed. "Take care, Kathryn. Try to come home a little sooner this time."
"I will, Mother. If she . . . "
"We'll take care of her."
She refused to cry. She simply would not show up on the bridge of her new command with red eyes. She took in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before stepping up to the platform. The last image she saw was that of her mother's face, tears now streaming down her cheeks. It hit her harder than anything in the last two years. Because they both knew. They knew if she ever saw Seven again it would be pure chance. Staying on Terra, staying put, meant that it was still conceivable that Seven would find her way back. By going out into the universe, Kathryn exchanged long odds for impossibility.
********
Her body settled into the familiar contour of the command chair. Her left hand automatically reached for the console beside her, pulling up a status screen without conscious thought. Next to her sat Commander Thompson, her new first officer. He was a blond man with broad features, a bit stodgy but she thought he would be solid in a crisis. Like most of the crew, he was still a bit wary of her, respectful but restrained. She glanced around at her hand-picked crew. No one on this ship had served with her on Voyager. She would have to prove herself to them, one by one. She had made some headway in the last several months, getting to know them and getting them used to her command style. Her experience on Voyager gave her the ability to read a crew like no one else. They were aware that she had been given command of the Tyrens for publicity's sake. But what she didn't understand was that their wariness was at least in part because they saw her as a captain on the edge.
There had been some fantastic rumors from contacts in Starfleet about her search for a Borg--an ex-Borg, to be exact. One of the ensigns at Special Projects reported that she almost lost her chance for a commission because she spent whole days searching for ways to scan for Borg technology in civilian areas of Terra. Most of that area had anti-intrusion technology that kept it off sensors, not to mention that it was illegal. But it really started the gossip mill running.
"Admiral Paris is hailing, Ma'am."
"Onscreen."
The Admiral's image jumped to life on the viewscreen. "Captain Janeway, the USS Tyrens is officially under your command. Good luck and godspeed."
"Thank you, Admiral. Mr. Thompson, take her out."
"Aye, Captain. Docking control, USS Tyrens requesting permission to depart."
"Permission granted. Tethers away."
"Tethers are away. Mr. Kaviski, back one-quarter impulse."
"Back one-quarter impulse, aye, Sir."
The ship eased away from the docking port. It dipped to port and Thompson gave the final order. "Ahead full impulse, Mr. Kaviski."
"Ahead full impulse, Sir."
The ship moved smoothly from the platform used to build it and the viewscreen was quickly filled with pinpoints of stars.
"We've cleared the port."
"Thank you, Mr. Kaviski." He turned to the woman in the chair beside him, wondering what lay ahead for them.
The captain gave her first real order on her new ship. "Set course for the Andalasian system, Mr. Kaviski."
"Course laid, Ma'am."
She kept her gaze on the console at her left. "Shall we see what she can do, Mr. Thompson?"
He looked over at her with a placid expression.
She took that as a yes. "Warp 8, Mr. Kaviski."
Thompson kept his composure well enough, but he also got the message. She was the captain and whatever he had heard about her or thought about her, she was the boss. No doubt he was under orders to yank command away from her at the slightest provocation. She was just acknowledging that she knew it, daring him to do something, to say something. He resisted the temptation to sigh or slump in his chair. It looked like it was going to be a long trip.
Kaviski's fingers hestiated over the panel, but he, too, did not show any sign of not obeying her order. "Warp 8. Aye, Ma'am."
"Engage." She smiled at her first officer, acknowledging that she understood his enlightenment. He thought that it was the first time he had ever seen a sincere smile on her face. He suddenly felt a lot better. Maybe she wasn't as far around the bend as he thought. Deep in his heart, he had always thought that anyone that could stare down the Borg to bring a crew home could not be the same person in all of the wild stories flying around.
The hum of the engines changed pitch as the warp bubble formed and the stars blurred into lines on the viewscreen. The massive engines shifted smoothly and left Planetia Utopia in a cloud of dust.
Kathryn stayed on the bridge for only a few minutes longer, wanting her crew to understand that for her, it was business as usual. She would revel in sitting in her command chair when the bloom was off the rose. As she stood to go to her ready room, she said, "You all may as well know now that I prefer to be called Captain. Save the ma'am for crunch time." She took in their smiles, knowing that they were caused more by the excitement of the moment than any humor in her comment. Soon enough they would be overcome with the monotony of daily starship duty. "You have the bridge, Mr. Thompson."
"Aye, Captain."
She moved across the front of the bridge area to the ready room on the starboard side that was much more plush than her last one. She also saw to it that the replicator in it had been programmed with the best cup of coffee in the Federation.
*******
Kathryn returned to her quarters that night, putting off the inevitable for as long as possible. The first night would be her worst. Her bag and the two gifts had been placed on the small table in the dining area by one of the ensigns assigned to the transition. Her books had been stowed on a shelving unit earlier in the week. She stood and stared out of the viewport for some time before passing through to the bedroom. She pulled off her tunic and grabbed one of the books on the way back.
She paused for a moment, looking back over her shoulder. Over the bookshelf hung one of Phoebe's paintings. It had been a Christmas present last year, created during that magical autumn nearly a year ago now. It was a field by the farmhouse, transformed by cool weather to oranges and reds, swirling together. Kathryn touched the painting, skimming the ridges of the brushstrokes as if to bring it to life. She wondered if Phoebe knew that she and Seven spent much time walking that field together.
She sighed and went to the replicator for some coffee. She had not slept a full night in months, driving herself beyond her limits to get the ship ready ahead of schedule. She was hell-bent to prove she was worthy of a commission. Now that she had it, she could settle back in. Maybe get some real sleep again. It would just not be tonight.
She sat down on the chair and eyed the gifts a bit warily. Her mother's was a box that was tied with a simple ribbon. Phoebe's was a flat rectangle that looked like another painting, although smaller. She didn't like the looks of either of them, so she opened her book, called for some music and began reading. She ignored the fact that she was acutely aware of the padd that was deposited inside her bag next to the gifts. Seven's padd.
She sipped her coffee and turned the page.
********
Stardate 55378.5 Deep Space Three
We have had two very full months of duty, making the rounds of Federation outposts to give the ship and the crew a good shakeout cruise. They are a good group and the time I have spent with them has lightened my spirits considerably. Mr. Thompson is steady and calm, able to deal with sudden shifts in circumstance. He needs work on his sense of humor, though, which is providing me with much diversion.
The Tyrens is currently docked at DS3. We have spent the last ten days at a scientific outpost that was overrun by an asteroid storm. We delivered medical supplies and helped rebuild shelters for most of that time. The doctor has proved to be a most efficient and helpful officer. He is still a little rough around the edges, having spent most of the last fifteen years in a lab environment. Between him and Mr. Thompson, I begin to think that the USS Tyrens is the latest Starfleet proving ground for second-chance officers.
I am covering part of first shift and all of second shift so that my senior staff can have some time off during the more exciting hours at the station. I find that does more for morale than any speech ever will. We will be leaving in two days for a diplomatic mission to a new culture petitioning for admission to the Federation. They have developed techology that may produce smaller and more efficient warp cores that will make traveling the galaxy a safer experience. I look forward to seeing it in action.
I boarded the station long enough to exchange civilities with the commander there and eat dinner one night. I also searched their databases for Borg activity, but found nothing of interest. I know that rumors swirl around me when I do that, but I am past caring. I just don't trust to fate to meet her when it would be so easy to pass like ships in the night.
I am glad to be occupied again. I am now sleeping a little more at night. As time passes I fall back into old habits and patterns and their familiarity gives me comfort. I even take on Velocity now and then with various crewmembers and I am beginning to gain a little weight. Mom would be proud.
The gifts are still unopened. I have placed them in my bedroom closet, awaiting the day I am strong enough to be reminded of home. I don't know how soon that day will come, but it is not today.
********
Kathryn lounged in her chair, reading a padd of personnel data, catching up on her new crew. They were due to leave DS3 tomorrow evening. It was still several hours before she was due on the bridge and this was one part of her job that she enjoyed.
The door chime rang but she didn't shift her position. "Come."
She heard the murmurings of a baby and looked up quickly.
"Permission to enter, Captain?" B'Elanna and Tom stood at the door, beaming. Tom held a squirming toddler and his wife had a cooing baby.
The padd was immediately forgotten and she could not get out of her chair fast enough. She didn't know who to hug first, so it became kind of a group hug.
"It is so good to see you. Why didn't you warn me? I would have prepared something for you. Dinner at least." She was gushing--as much as Starfleet captains could gush.
B'Elanna shifted so that the baby wouldn't get crushed between them. "We weren't sure we'd make it in time. I'm working on a project that kind of comes in cycles and I didn't want to promise I'd be here without making it."
"Come in, come in. Let me hold that baby." She fought back tears as she looked down into a cherubic face. "He's beautiful, B'Elanna." She cradled him carefully, watching him wave fists and smile.
"Hey, you say that like I had nothing to do with it," Paris said with mock offence.
"Yes, but you didn't work as hard at it," she answered with a smile. They stepped into the cabin. "What's his name?"
"Thomas Paris III. Very original." B'Elanna rolled her eyes.
"It's a great name. There is much history in the Paris line."
"I suppose it's better than Captain Proton."
"Come in, sit down. " She finally gave up the baby to B'Elanna and squatted down to talk to Miral, whom Tom had finally put down. She held her arms out, trying to get the toddler in a hug. "Hi, little girl. I was there the day you were born. What a day that was." But she was nearly two now, and would have none of it. There were too many interesting things to explore.
They got the baby settled into a soft spot on the sofa and secured with pillows. Miral began investigating the room with her father in close proximity to keep her out of trouble. Kathryn brought coffee from the replicator and a glass of juice for Miral.
"This is a great ship, Captain. I saw the plans when I was on the new technology team." B'Elanna sipped her drink with an appreciative smile.
"Yes, I'm very fortunate. But you know, I would take Voyager back in a heartbeat."
Something in the way she said it made B'Elanna look a little closer. And then made her put down her drink and envelope the captain in another hug.
To her surprise, the captain held on to her as if she were drowning. Because of that, she didn't see the look that passed between husband and wife, and didn't question it when Tom decided to take Miral on a tour of the ship a few minutes later.
"My daughter will not be satisfied until she is into everything. We'll be back."
The two women settled on the couch with the sleepy baby. B'Elanna didn't know where to start. She had never seen the captain looking like this, even during the worst days on Voyager. "What is it?," she asked in a gentle tone. "You look exhausted." She reached over to place her hand on top of the captain's. "We heard that Starfleet didn't want to give you another commission. Has it really been that bad?"
"It's not the ship. The ship is great. It's everything I wanted." Kathryn did not look up from her mug.
"But. . ." B'Elanna prompted her.
Kathryn continued to stare down. The younger woman did not push her.
"I've made such a mess of my personal life."
"Is that all?" B'Elanna breathed out. "Who hasn't?"
The captain smiled despite herself. "No, I mean I really botched it, but good."
"So, tell me."
Kathryn took a big breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know where to begin."
"Take your time."
Kathryn stood and went to the viewport where she could look out over the space station with it's crowded docking pads. She crossed her arms and leaned against the glass.
"Starfleet was difficult at first. Yes, I destroyed some major Borg technology, I brought all of you back, but I'm also the one who stranded us. They wanted to know why I didn't bring Ransom's crew home. Why I would even think of forming an alliance with the Borg, no matter what we were facing. Why I interfered with the Caretaker array to begin with. Do you know, they had one whole group devoted to checking my Prime Directive compliance."
"Desk-jockeys with inflated egos."
Kathryn nodded in agreement. "Typical bureacracy. I endured it knowing that they couldn't keep going on forever." Her voice trailed away as she stared back out the window.
"And?"
"I lived in Indiana with Mom and commuted to San Francisco. I don't know what I'd have done without Mom and Phoebe." Kathryn took an audible breath and dived in. "One day I went to the Voyager Museum and Seven was there. It was the oddest feeling, seeing her there in Astrometrics just like she used to be. Just like we were back in the Delta Quadrant. She had run away from a scientific experiment, so I took her home with me."
"She must have enjoyed that."
"Yes, she did. Mom gave her cooking lessons and Phoebe taught her to paint. She seemed so much . . . I don't know, softer."
"More human."
"Yes, " and she smiled a knowing smile. "You don't know how human."
"Meaning?"
Kathryn turned back to B'Elanna with a searching look. "She and I became . . . involved."
B'Elanna swallowed hard, and kept from blurting out anything. She hoped her eyes were not completely bugged. Those lessons with Tuvok finally paid off. "You and Seven . . . " she finally said slowly.
"You're shocked."
B'Elanna took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. "Not shocked, exactly. Surprised, I guess. You spent so many years alone among a full crew I guess I never thought past that. I never considered that you might become involved with someone from the ship."
Kathryn turned back to gaze out the viewport. "I spent most of that time trying to make up for her not having a mother."
As B'Elanna adjusted to the idea, she found that it appealed to her. Her voice grew stronger as she got over the inital shock. "But you aren't her mother. You were her best friend for all those years. I'm sure not many would be surprised that it progressed farther than that."
Kathryn nodded and became silent again. "It was wonderful. She seemed to blossom in a world without technology. It was almost like she regressed." She spoke slowly. "I always cared for her. I think it changed because all of the external constraints disappeared. I felt complete for the first time in my life." She did not attempt to keep the bleakness from her voice.
"It didn't last?" B'Elanna prodded.
Kathryn's voice became hard. "No. I wanted a command more than I wanted her. I drove her away."
B'Elanna took a deep breath. "Come and sit down, Captain."
"Why?"
"Just humor me. Sit." She patted the spot on the couch beside her.
Kathryn moved over to the sofa slowly, warily. She sat down, carefully placing her hands in her lap. B'Elanna touched the baby without actually looking at him and Kathryn wondered if B'Elanna even knew she had done so.
"We're here at DS3 because of Seven. She knew you would stop here at some point on your first run in the new ship." The captain sat very still, barely breathing. B'Elanna reached down and pulled a padd out of the bag with the baby's things. "She wanted me to deliver this to you personally." She held the panel out between them.
Kathryn stared at it, trying to rein in the emotions running through her. "You've seen her?" she croaked.
"Yes."
She suddenly came out of the haze. "How long ago? How did she look? Oh, why didn't I know . . ."
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you all of it, if it takes all night." B'Elanna touched the captain's hand, surprised at the tension there as she guided the padd safely into it.
Kathryn set the padd on her lap, staring at it, almost afraid to touch it.
B'Elanna continued to hold the captain's hand, although she knew the older woman was unconscious of the touch. "Seven showed up on our doorstep about 4 months ago. She wouldn't tell us what she was doing or where she was going. She wouldn't even stay the night. She looked a little like you do now. Exhausted. Worn out. Sad. Seeing you explains a lot."
"Tell me everything she said."
"She told us she had a message for you but that she couldn't trust Federation communications with it. She said that you would pass this way eventually and that I should deliver it to you. I kept an eye on the transport logs and when I saw the Tyrens on the list, we packed up and came."
The captain's expression had not registered anything. It was as if she had gone completely numb. "Captain, you really can't blame yourself. Seven is the most stubborn, opinionated person I've ever met. She can't be the easiest person to get along with, even at her best."
The captain nodded slightly but didn't say anything at first. It was only when B'Elanna noticed the teardrops landing on the padd that she wished there was something else she could do, something else she could say. But there wasn't anything.
********
Late that evening, after sleepwalking through second shift, Kathryn took a long swig from the glass of whiskey. She was sprawled on the couch, tunic slung over the armrest behind her head. It had been a long day, and she knew it was going to be a long night. Thompson would have to cover her shift in the morning. It was the least he could do after she covered for his shore leave all week.
She caressed the padd in her left hand. Next to her lay the other padd, the one she found in their bedroom in Indiana. It contained only a few entries. It looked as if Seven had just started keeping logs on it. Probably why she left it behind.
Finally, fortified with enough alcohol, she punched the button on the bottom of the screen to start the playback. It was video instead of text and she flinched at the face that appeared before her, so warm, so alive.
"Captain." The sight of her face shocked her, and it did not prepare her for the jolt to her heart on hearing that voice again.
"I apologize for leaving so abruptly. I regret that I did not have the strength to wait for your return from Starfleet to say goodbye. I feel I owe you an explanation for my behavior. It is the least I can do after all you have done for me.
"The week before my departure, I had completed a survey of likely Borg cubes with drones able to be freed from the collective. I attempted on several successive evenings to discuss my findings with you, but you were not interested. I understand that your time at Starfleet has been very difficult for you. When you returned in the evening you were very tired and did not want to be bothered by details. This was the culmination of many weeks of the same behavior. When we first became lovers, we spent much time discussing matters of mutual importance. But, as time passed, we spent less and less time talking about the Borg and more and more time planning your next command.
"I stated on several occasions that I would not accompany you when you received your commission. You were unwilling or unable to process this information. I also know that you will not give up your commission to travel the galaxy on a Borg cube for my benefit. I felt that a clean break was in your best interest. I apologize if my sudden departure caused you undue pain. Do not dwell on it. I choose to relive memories of our walks and our sexual activities. Perhaps you should do the same.
"I will remember our 93.2 earth days together as lovers as the happiest of my life, no matter how long I live. Your love truly changed me from a Borg trying to be human into a human with Borg technology.
"Please send my warmest regards to your mother and sister. They, too, hold a special place in my memory. I now know what it means to be a part of a family. It is much more satisfying than a collective.
"By the time this reaches your hand, I will no longer be in the Alpha Quadrant. I have already freed a small Borg scout vessel from which we will take on increasingly larger cubes until the Borg are all free or destroyed. Do not concern yourself with finding me. I will succeed in my mission or be destroyed in the attempt. I wish you luck and happiness in your new command."
At the end of the message, Seven looked into the recorder for several seconds. At first, Kathryn thought she was going to say something else, and then her expression became unreadable. At the last minute, her face began to droop as if she were about to cry, but the image snapped to darkness before it completed. Kathryn stared at the screen for some time, taking another long draught from the glass beside her.
Strangely enough, all she could think about was that last horrendous battle with her mother. It always haunted her, but the whole thing seemed to be happening again.
"I will find her. I will bring her back." She was packing, angrily throwing clothes and books into her bag. Angry at herself.
"And then what? You have a commission. She wants to spend her life freeing all of the Borg she can. Are you going to help her or just kidnap her like you did the last time?" She could still hear the strident tone of her mother's voice, calling her to task.
"I don't know."
"The bottom line is that to have Seven, you will have to give up your commission. Are you prepared to do that?"
Kathryn stood up to her full height in the middle of the room. "Are you saying I didn't love her enough?"
"Of course not."
"We could get married. She could live on the ship with me, Starfleet be damned."
"Kathryn, be honest. If you really wanted to be with someone permanently, you would have married Mark long ago. You let that drag on forever, excuse after excuse. I honestly don't think you would have ever married him. Being gone for seven years made a convenient excuse and relieved you of the obligation."
Kathryn mumbled something about duty and Starfleet in a half-hearted response, knowing that she really didn't have an answer for that one.
But Gretchen heard the comment. "You may think that your career is everything, but it's not."
"It was good enough for my father," she shot back, fighting tears.
Gretchen gentled her voice. "A father who was rarely here." Kathryn's head snapped up to level a hurt glare at her mother. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I knew what it would be like. Seven is just not willing to pay that price. She won't just sit around and wait for you to come home. It's not her nature."
"Lieutenant Jacobs to Captain Janeway."
Kathryn sat up quickly, snapping back immediately. "Janeway here."
"Sorry to bother you, Captain, but there's an ion storm brewing in the P'Teriu system. DS3 operations thinks we should depart within the hour if we want to get to the conference on time."
"Acknowledged. Recall all personnel from shore leave immediately and make ready for departure."
"Aye, Captain."
She shoved the two padds into a drawer in her bedside table on her way to a cold shower and a hot cup of coffee. One thing about Starfleet, she thought. It leaves little time for self-pity.
********
Kathryn stepped off the transporter pad into the bright sunlight of midday. She squinted as hers eyes adjusted and she made out the familiar path leading towards town. She shifted the small bag to her other hand and strode down the road smartly, nodding and smiling to acquaintances. It was good to be home.
As she walked, the memories of that autumn with Seven mingled in with those of her childhood, coming home from the transport station with her father, hand in hand. Sometimes he would be talkative, other times preoccupied. She now knew that it had nothing to do with her and everything to do with his job. She understood that more than ever, thanks to her mother's going-away present. It was two years' worth of her father's personal logs from one of his commands.
They dated from the time she had been eight and not nearly old enough to understand much about her father and his profession. Reading those logs over the last nine months had changed her whole view of her father and their chosen career. She realized how lucky he had been to find her mother. It gave her a whole new respect for Gretchen. She also knew it was something she would never be able to do--to expect someone to wait patiently while she pursued the latest threat to the Federation across the galaxy. She was an all-or-nothing one, especially now.
She planned on two days with her family. She thought that was all she could stand. Just long enough for a real visit, not long enough to dwell on anything too much. Get some closure. She had mostly given up on ever seeing Seven again. There was one little corner of her that still held out hope, but it had been frayed by the endless months of no word, no sign of her. She still found herself scanning crowds for that one face, but it was more habit than anything by now.
She rounded the last turn gazing across the fields to her left, saving up for that first view of the house, like she always did. When she looked back towards the house, it felt like a cold slap. Unconsciously, she had expected to see Seven's lanky frame, leaning against the house, tapping a rhythm on the padd in her hand, waiting but not wanting to look like she was waiting. Only today he porch was empty and the view seemed to slam against her, taking away her breath. She gasped in the air, forcing herself to calm down, reminding herself that it had been a long time now. She was over it.
What she didn't know was that Gretchen stood inside the screen door, watching her come up the road. She saw Kathryn hesitate on the last bend before squaring her shoulders to continue the walk toward the house. Never cry defeat, she thought. Kathryn had walked to the house from the transport station hundreds of times in her life. Watching it this time was easily the most painful.
Kathryn stood outside the door, fighting back tears as she looked at her mother. "I think my father was the luckiest man in the Alpha quadrant," she finally said.
"He'd be proud of you." Then Gretchen stepped up and pushed the screen open, and Kathryn walked into her embrace, no longer holding back the pain. The gap between them was gone. She would survive this. She could survive anything. She was home.