Choose Again

She's curled up in the corner of a threadbare lounge, hugging her knees to her chest, and whimpering quietly. Look closely. See through the wisps of greying hair? See her knuckles, blue veined and covered in pale translucent skin, clenched tightly? The room is darkened, but the light from the large windows, the streaming starlines of warp show more than enough. There's no mistake here. That's the captain of the starship Voyager we're staring at. It's not been a good day for her. Or even a good week. Hell, life has been pretty damned sucky of late and there's no hope of relief.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god. . . "

There are no gods here, Kathryn. There's just you. You and some other people and a ship. A ship that's way past its use by date. People well past their use by date. And a captain that retreats to her quarters and tears shreds from herself in a feeble attempt to hold it all together. Oh sure, they say they can help you. The doctor insists he can help you. He says that the medication will fix you right up, but isn't that the same thing the rest of the crew has been on for the past two years? Everyone, all the fucking time, so fucking optimistic, so keen, hearty, and full of themselves. Fuck! They can't see how fucking hopeless it all is. Don't they know just what their lives have become? Don't they realise that they'll never get home? How futile the whole thing is?

B'Elanna discovered the micro fractures a year ago today. The ship will last for maybe another ten years. Maybe. It's only something a Federation spacedock can fix. People can't fix it. The doctor's drugs can't fix it. Kathryn can't fix it. Poor Kathryn. A thing she can't fix, and it's driving her crazy. It will kill her just as dead as the rest of the crew.

She's still curled up in the corner of the lounge. Perhaps Seven will come to see her.

Perhaps not.

Q looked in through the window into the darkened quarters, and shook his head.

"Well, Kathy. Not a happy camper then. How the mighty have fallen."

****************

"Come."

In the space of a heart beat, a new expression crossed Janeway's face. Her legs unfolded and she took a deep breath, blowing out a lungfull of stress and fatigue in one rush.

"Captain?"

"Hello Seven. Sit down."

The woman stood still for a moment, then crossed to the lounge and sat close to Janeway. It seemed natural that her hand should rest on Janeway's knee and squeeze it reassuringly. But for Seven, this gesture did not come naturally. Hesitant, awkwardly, her left hand patted the Captain's leg then returned to her lap.

"You are well?"

"Fine. Just fine. A little tired perhaps. It is nothing." Janeway smiled the kind of smile distant relatives exchange at funerals.

"Perhaps. The doctor asked me to. . ."

"Fuck the doctor! Fuck him and his sentience. He'll be the last sane person on board this ship. What the hell does he know?"

Janeway's voice cracked, and she grabbed at her hair with clawed hands, managing at the last instance to soften the gesture into running her bony fingers through the coarse strands.

"You want me to go?"

"Yes! No! Hell. I don't know. Shit." Janeway turned towards the window and watched the starlines. She whispered "Tell Chakotay to scan for new life, new civilisations."

"To boldly. . ." Seven smiled.

"Don't." Janeway interrupted. "Just. . . don't. It's not a joke any more."

Seven pressed her lips together, and stared at the floor. Minutes passed in silence.

"Captain. It took me so long to learn, that sometimes it is still a novelty."

"What is, Seven?" asked Janeway, curious despite herself.

"A sense of humour. Not just irony and sarcasm. Fun. Playfulness. Elation. I'm sorry. Sometimes I forget myself."

"Humour is pain, Seven. Pain made more painful so that the real pain is lessened. Don't apologise for that." Janeway looked at her crewmate. The borg nanites in her blood persisted despite the doctor's efforts to finish the job of humanising her. The only side effect remaining was to keep Seven's physical appearance exactly as it was the day he transformed her from a borg to nearly a human. Everyone else aboard Voyager was older, and feeling it. Seven still looked fabulous. Apparently ageing was "inefficient".

Janeway reached out a finger, and stroked along Seven's cheek towards her lips. "You've done very well Seven. I'm proud of you."

Seven reached for Janeway's hand, but the Captain pulled it away before her touch.

"Do you wish me to stay?"

Yes, thought Janeway. Stay, and I can forget for a few hours about how we'll all be dead in ten years time and it will be my fault.

"No, Seven. You better go." I don't deserve you. I don't deserve anything.

"As you wish. And I'll tell the doctor?"

"That I am resting in my quarters. Please."

Seven stood, went to go, then paused. "Kathryn. . ."

"Don't call me that!" Janeway hissed. "Never, never call me that!" Her knuckles, white against the threadbare couch, her eyes sparking with a meanness that made the borg sway back away from it.

"Sorry. Really." Seven made haste to the door. "I did not intend to get. . . personal, with you. I'm sorry Captain."

Janeway felt the pressure building inside her, and did not trust herself to speak. She tipped her head towards the door and Seven left without further comment.

And perched on the desk, invisible to the occupant of the room, Q frowned.

**************

Alone, and another night of not sleeping. Janeway counted the panels on her ceiling, counted the cycles of the air conditioning unit, counted the random ticking of a working starship, counted the times she'd regretted not taking any slim chance of returning to the alpha quadrant. She kidded herself that it wasn't self pity. She was thinking rationally, and being the only person on board who could berate her for being too damned selfish and stupid. Her fingers clenched into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. She barely resisted the urge to press just that little bit more, so that the pain could flow out of the small wet injuries and relieve a bit of the pressure.

The touch at her temple seemed remote at first. Her eyes were squeezed shut, wrinkling the skin into deeper crows feet. Her brain dismissed the touch as unimportant, something less, something that did not concern a person who had committed murder a hundred times and would do so again. But eventually Janeway realised the touch as a thing not created by the twisting of her fractured mind.

Her eyes flashed open.

"Kathy. I knew you weren't sleeping."

"Q."

"You remember me? I'm flattered."

Janeway remembered all right.

"You can fuck me now if you like."

"What?" Q sat back on the edge of her bed, and pressed a hand to his Starfleet uniform. "Me? Fuck you? Please, Kathy. You could at least play hard to get, again. That was fun."

"Cut the crap Q. Take this. Take me. Fuck me, hurt me, whatever you want, I'll do it. Just get these people home."

Janeway pulled the bedclothes away. She sat up and took hold of her night dress, and in one quick gesture, ripped it down the front and shrugged her way out of it. She reached over and grabbed Q's hand and placed it on her breast, leaning into it, pushing his fingers deep into the pale flesh.

"Do it, Q." quietly, desperately.

Q held the soft weight in his hand, and rolled the nipple idly between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh Kathy. Has it really got that bad?"

"Yes."

"Really, really, bad?"

Janeway's eyes refused to leak tears as she licked her lips, her hands laying palm up and open on her thighs. "Anything at all, Q. Whatever it takes."

"Even Captains of starships have limits, Kathy. I know that well."

"So you won't fuck me?"

Q smiled, and not in a good way.

"I didn't say that."

***********

Q kept pushing on her breast, pushing her back down onto the bed, holding her there. With his other hand he stripped her shredded night gown away onto the floor. Still holding her there, his fingers pressing into her, his free hand stroked the length of her body, feeling the soft skin, the older, wrinkled skin, the no longer firm skin. He brushed over the dark curls of her pubic hair, now sprinkled with curled greys, and settled that hand between her legs.

"Spread them for me Kathy."

Janeway opened her legs.

The hand around her breast squeezed harder, forcing her nipple up ready for him as he leaned down to take it into his mouth. His tongue licked it, played with it, as his fingers pulled it higher and tighter.

"Like that, Kathy?"

"If it's what you want, yes."

"I must want it. I'm doing it aren't I?" His teeth pressed around her nipple in a slow bite, increasing in force. Janeway's lips pressed together, but she could not hold back the gasp of pain that eventually Q solicited. He chuckled around her breast, then lifted his head.

"That hurt?"

"Not much, no. Did you want it to hurt?"

Q frowned. "You're not getting into the spirit of this Kathy."

"I'll do what you want Q. I said that. But don't ask me to enjoy it."

"But I want you to enjoy it! I order you to enjoy it." Q's hand worked harder at her cunt, his fingers sliding in, fucking her, his thumb rubbing gently along her clit. "Surely that feels good?"

Janeway looked straight into Q's eyes, then closed her own. "Yes Q. I like it a lot. Please. Don't stop." Her voice a monotone.

Q smiled happily "That's better! I knew you'd come good."

Her eyes closed, Janeway didn't see that flash of light that removed Q's clothes, she only felt the weight of him lying on her, the hands grasping at her breasts, at her back, the wet inept kisses across her face and mouth, and the dull pounding of his cock into her. For forms sake, she lifted her hips to meet him. Out of habit, she sucked his tongue, and groaned into his mouth. She arched her back, and wrapped one arm across his shoulders, her fingernails making marks, small marks. The other hand bunched the sheet into a tight ball in her fist. Her eyes closed, she counted the cycles of the air conditioning unit, counted the random ticking of a working starship, counted the times she'd regretted not taking any slim chance of returning to the alpha quadrant.

And counted this as one chance she would not let slip.

***********

"So. Was I the better than your tattooed friend?" Q lounged alongside Janeway, stroking a finger down her sticky body.

"I never fucked him, Q."

"Really? That's not what they think."

"Right. Whatever."

"So was I? Good?" Q persisted in a slightly worried tone.

Janeway rolled over to face him. He was dressed again, in red command Starfleet uniform, head resting on a hand, his face inches from her own. She could still feel his slickness between her thighs and her nipples ached from his rough handling of them. Her cunt was raw and tender as no matter how much she had tried to put on a show for Q, her body knew different. It had been a dry old fuck.

"Sure Q. You were great."

"Yes, I know. I have certain talents with humans." The smirk was so predictable, that Janeway almost laughed. "Perhaps I should expand my repertoire. That borg lassie you keep is quite a dish."

"You leave her alone! Don't you touch her!" Janeway sat up and grabbed Q's shirt in her fist. "Your business is with me Q, and me alone. I've given you what you want. . ."

"And you expect payment. Yes." Q detached Janeway's hand from his clothes one finger at a time, and folded her fist into his. He squeezed it hard, until she gasped. He put his face right next to hers. His whisper was full of malice.

"You had the chance here, Kathy. You thought all I wanted was a quick fuck. You've been killing yourself with guilt and rightly so. These people, your friends, are all dead because of you. I give you a second chance to make things right, and you let your own stubborn pride and misplaced dignity drag you down again. How much would it take? Just how near death do you have to be?" Q reached up to take a handful of her hair and pulled her head back hard.

"Half measures and compromises, just like you've always done. You forget I am omnipotent. I just look human, Kathy. I am not human. You're a sad old woman, Kathy. You'll die that way."

Janeway's voice refused to work. Her lips were dry and her hands were shaking. The import of Q's words and the rightness of them drove through her very soul. She wished herself dead there and then, if only to spare herself a future of knowing how badly she had fucked up yet again.

"Please. Q. Spare them. Spare them," she managed to croak.

"Fool. Like I care?"

"That will do Q." The voice came from the door.

"Ah! We have a guest. Please Kathy. Introduce me." Q dropped his hold on Janeway and stood, straightening up his uniform with a tug.

"You know who I am." Seven stood very still, her hands open at her sides. "Get away from her, you bastard!"

"Seven! No!" Janeway pleaded weakly.

"So this is Seven? Hmmm, I like her. I like her a lot. Great taste in uniforms, and the shoes? To die for." Q walked around Seven inspecting her.

Seven ignored Q. "Captain. Are you all right? I apologise for not knocking, but I needed to check your status after last night." She frowned at the rumpled bed clothes that Janeway clutched hastily about her. "I appear to have arrived too late. I'm sorry."

"So am I, " remarked Q. "If I'd known you were available. . ."

"I am not available to you Q. I will never be available to you."

"Ah, but Kathy said that once too, and look how happy she is now."

Seven turned her attention to the tall man, her face the picture of borg emotional control. "I see a weak being preying on a sick woman. I see a spiteful and petulant entity with no honour. I have no regard for you. Go away."

Q stepped back a pace, smiling. "Oh, I really like her. You've got yourself one hell of a girlfriend here Kathy. Perceptive, too."

"Please Seven. You don't know what this means." Her legs bent up in front of her, Janeway huddled in the sheets, hugging her knees.

"She does, Kathy. She does. Don't you Seven?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be off. I know when I'm not wanted. Don't expect to see me again. I've got greener pastures, and much nicer Captains to play with in the alpha quadrant." Q turned to Seven and patted her cheek. "Bye sweety. Nice to meet someone on board here with one iota of loyalty. You should teach some to your Captain one day."

"I learned everything I am from Captain Janeway."

Q approached Janeway, who swayed away from him. Seven stepped forward, but Q gestured her back. "OK, OK, I'm going. A good bye kiss, Kathy?" He leaned towards the Captain, his lips puckered.

"Captain! No! Don't do it!" Seven yelled, and reached for Q to haul him away but found her feet frozen to the floor. She watched helplessly as Kathryn Janeway,

reached her arms up,

looped them round Q's neck,

pressed her naked body against his,

and devoured his mouth with her own, putting every ounce of strength and passion and desire and need into that one kiss as if her whole life, her whole purpose of existence was to be there, kissing Q.

"NO!" Seven screamed, here eyes screwed tight, refusing to watch.

************

The room is darkened but for the streaming starlines shining through the small window. Two people lie curled into each other on the small bed. Their heads close together, their whispers audible only to the other.

"I don't have your strength."

"You are stronger than you know. We will prevail."

"It will take our whole life. This will be our life."

"But at least we have a life now, and it was your doing. B'Elanna reports that all the microfractures have disappeared. She can find no trace of any abnormality in the hull. We will survive." Seven raised a hand and ran her metal tipped fingers through Janeway's greying hair. "You made the right decision. Q kept his promise. We will live. We will make it back."

Janeway tipped her head into Seven's hand, rolling it under her touch. "How you must hate me. You saw what I did. What I became. Q was right. You must teach me honour, for I have none, now."

"I have your honour in my keeping. It is safe, and you are safe." Seven touched her Captain's lips with her own, feeling the need behind them, and hope.

"Seven. My Seven. Help me? Stay with me?"

"Yes, Kathryn. Always."

************