Kathryn turned over in bed and then, after only three seconds, turned over onto her other side once more. She had been in bed, awake, for three hours and she knew things would stay that way for at least another two. Rubbing her cheek against the softness of her pillow, she sighed and twisted her hair around her finger while her mind worked its own nuisance of an existence upon her.
Sitting up in bed, she moved to her wardrobe and removed the uniform she had worn on the Nebula excursion. She had just thrown it in there, in a mad rush, and now Kathryn was happy she hadn't cleaned it. It had its memories and it had its past. Sitting down on the floor, an emotional welling building inside of her, she held it to her cheek and smelled what was left of the man she had just so recently come to love in the flesh. The man she had trusted and whom had left her. For what? Retribution.
"Damn you," she stated harshly into the cloth of the material.
She had decided that she would ring once and if the Captain did not answer promptly after the first chime, she would then seek solace and advice elsewhere. Though she did not know where that would be.
Moving her finger to the console she pushed the button and waited.
Kathryn was shedding some rather unseemly tears and overcome by her fill of hiccups by the time the chime for an entry sounded. By herself, she had no problems with being emotional or showing 'weaknesses' or in 'just' being a woman . . . but when someone called, she would flip that internal switch and reappear as the clean-cut, reigned-in, put together, indestructible Captain -- even in a moment's time.
Moving toward the door with energy, she dried her tears and hoped her nose wouldn't stand out too much to the person outside of her door.
Seven of Nine was turning to leave as the doors to the Captain's quarters flew open. "Captain," she greeted.
"Seven?" Kathryn swallowed a hiccup and looked at the Borg woman with a question etched on her face. "What's going on?" it was definitely cause for question due to the hour.
Seven started to compose her thoughts but then she looked closely at Janeway and noted something was different about her this evening. "Captain," she didn't even so much as blink, "you are currently in an emotional state as well."
Kathryn knew she had been caught. "Seven, I--, just-- well--" she rarely stammered but everyone was entitled to the privilege once in a lifetime. Sighing, she gave up on the possibility of a coherent statement.
"Is now an inappropriate time?" Seven asked, but she hoped she didn't have to leave. Kathryn didn't want Seven to leave, "No, Seven. It's never an 'inappropriate' time. Why don't you," she delicately wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe, "come in."
"Thank you," Seven stated and walked inside to stand in the middle of the room. Kathryn waited and waited before she remembered that though the Borg woman had adjusted well to life aboard Voyager, sometimes the simplest of things went right over her head.
"It's customary to sit down when visiting your emotional Captain at 0303 hours," Kathryn chuckled and picked up the box of replicated Kleenex she had ordered, only moments ago, from where it sat on her dinning room table.
Seven hesitated only for a moment before nodding toward the sofa, "Is that location acceptable?"
Kathryn went over and sat down in a live-action affirmative. She watched as the former Borg woman carefully eased her body onto the edge of the sofa, not fully at ease. "A penny for your thoughts?"
"A penny? I did not know you collected currency from crew members, Captain," she asked. Kathryn did laugh then, and it felt good, "No, I don't, Seven. If I did I'd be the envy of all Ferangi. It's another one of our expressions," she waved her hands in the air, "I meant . . . what has you at my doorstep at this hour?"
"I am confused as to not only the nature of my relationship with the Doctor but also the nature of your position on Voyager since the Commander has deserted our Collective without any warning."
So, there it was. The first person to vocalize, to her, of their worries and confusion on Chakotay leaving. And, well of course Seven's own. . . . problem . . . . with the Doctor.
"Let's start with what is, in my opinion, the easiest topic," Kathryn smiled gently and took Seven's hand in her own, as a mother would her daughter. Seven looked at how Kathryn Janeway held her hand and shifted her weight, slightly, against the sofa cushion she sat on before trying to forcibly relax the muscles in her back.
Kathryn noticed the jerky movement that hunched Seven's body into what she supposed was as close to relaxation as a former Borg could get. "Now then," she said, "start from the beginning."
"The beginning? You mean the moment of interaction that produced these human feelings to declare conflicting thoughts--"
Kathryn gave Seven a stern look. "No offense, Seven, but get to the point!" she smiled though, letting the other woman know there was intentional humor involved.
"Very well--" Seven stated, surprisingly enough, with a soft tone. "The Doctor has decided that his role of mentor is no longer acceptable. He wants to progress into the realm of relationships."
"With you?" Kathryn asked.
"Yes, with me," Seven swallowed.
Kathryn waited but that seemed to be all Seven had to say at the moment. "How do you feel about this?" she prompted the other woman for further discussion.
"I feel . . ." Seven looked thoughtful. "I think--"
"Don't think," Kathryn squeezed her hand, "just feel. That's what my mother used to say worked best with 'matters of the heart.' Even though our first instinct is to do everything logically, by the book." Though, she wondered after her current predicament if her mother had been wrong. Was she giving wrong advice to this other woman then?
"I feel as though it would not work," Seven stated, taking away Kathryn's chance for second thoughts.
"Why not?" she asked.
"Because I want to explore Earth, when we arrive. I know that there will be many opportunities in furthering my development as an individual," she stated.
Kathryn nodded her head, "I see. And dividing your time between yourself and someone else, namely," she paused for a breath, "one holographic doctor, would detract from your goal of understanding humanity and individualism."
"Yes," Seven stated.
"Seven, answer me this . . ." Kathryn realized that the other woman wasn't looking at her . . . for once . . . and she proceeded to taking the Borg woman's chin with delicate fingers and drawing her gaze back to her own, "do you share any of these feelings with the Doctor?"
"I--," she swallowed nervously, "I believe so. But I must first further my development as an individual."
"Then just tell him that," Kathryn smiled. "He'll understand. And as for the fact that he's a hologram, well . . . I've had my share of Holographic boyfriends," she rolled her eyes at herself, "before Chako--" She cut herself off and looked away as tears immediately flooded around her eyes, but she refused to let them spill.
"Captain," Seven stated, "your emotional state has returned."
"So it has," Kathryn chuckled through another sniff of emotion. "Which brings us to the more difficult topic.
Seven raised her eyebrows at the statement. She watched as her Captain pulled her robe more closely to her body before their eyes met again. Seven took Kathryn's hand, this time, as a daughter would her mother's, "I learn by example."
"So you do," Kathryn stated knowingly. "As for the nature of my position on Voyager, currently," she drew in a shaky breath, "I will be handling both commanding positions for the time being."
"Captain that is unacceptable," Seven stated.
"I beg your pardon?" Kathryn blanched at being so directly countered by a member of her crew. It wasn't a first and, no doubt, it wasn't going to be the last, but it nevertheless startled her train of thought, time and time again.
"You wish to be efficient on a day to day basis, you also wish for the ship to run as smoothly as possible," Seven explained in her drawn-out fashion, "by taking on too many responsibilities you risk exhaustion and failure, thereby possibly effecting the efficiency and everyday functions of your ship."
"Seven--" Kathryn started.
"This ship has already lost its Commander," she continued, "it does not need to also lose its Captain due to some medical illness from lack of sleep or nutritional supplements as no doubt will happen if you take on too many responsibilities, Captain."
"Well--" Kathryn paused taking in that drawn-out explanation. "How could a Captain who loves her crew argue with that?" she smiled. "I'll take your statements and opinions into consideration."
They were both quiet for a minute or two following. Seven took the time to look around the dimmed quarters of her leader and then turned back to the woman by her side.
"I have breeched the matter of command structure but I have, as of yet, to question your own personal reactions to the matter," Seven inquired.
"I have none--" Kathryn stated quietly. "Captain, I have always known you to be a passionate individual and rarely do you not have a reaction to a situation concerning Voyager or yourself," Seven waited.
"I suppose it's just a little too early to go into detail," Kathryn explained.
"Early as in time of day? Or early as in the nature of the event as a recent occurrence?" Seven asked confused.
Kathryn patted her leg compassionately, "Both, Seven. Both . . ."
"I do not understand," Seven stated.
"Neither do I," Kathryn smiled. "Captain --"
"Seven."
Chakotay looked around at the bridge of the Maquis ship known as 'Liberation.' What an odd name to attach to a ship whose main course of action was to destroy the past.
It had been almost two weeks since his departure from Voyager.
"Many people claim that the Maquis ended seven years ago, but they were wrong. We are the survivors of the past, of the pain and death; soon retribution will be delivered," Depark came up behind Chakotay, standing so close that his words consumed the other man's complete attention.
"You said that you would have nothing to do with us beyond this and I wonder how a man who has such passion can limit justice to one deed."
"Justice?" Chakotay questioned, his disbelief evident through the intonations.
"Then what would you call it? Certainly not slaughter and obviously not revenge. You even seemed apprehensive of associating retribution with it. As for murder, well that is what the Cardassians did to us," Depark stated, but then he paused, "Oh I see -- perhaps I was blinded by my own passions. Your interest is in Dorvan isn't it? Your home planet -- a former colony."
Chakotay turned to face the other man, "That's what mainly attracted me to your proposal. Problem with that?"
"Not yet," Depark replied. "Cardassia has been damaged almost permanently by the Dominion. But the fact that they still have clung to Dorvan, continuing to take what isn't theirs, is enough to send me back in rank beside you," Chakotay defended.
"But that's as far as you'll go by my side?" Depark let a sly grin press forward across his etched face, "Curious. Well," whatever thoughts he had left just as quickly as they had surfaced, "for each man retribution is something different. Just don't go as far as to change your mind. Innocence has not played in our company for many years."
"Why would I do that," Chakotay eyed him, but the frustration that had built in him, only moments before, was still evident by the clenching of his fists.
"Because you've spent too much time with Starfleet these past years," Depark stated. He turned to leave, but his words resounded in the confines of the bridge, "Haven't you . . ."
What could Chakotay say? The only thing he could do would be to agree.
Kathryn Janeway ran from her bed and toward the bathroom as fast as her tired legs would carry her. She could feel the bile rising in the back of her throat, her stomach tightening in agony and her muscles working to dispel from her body as much of last night's dinner as it could.
She halted and dropped to her knees, bending over the toilet and lost what food she had encouraged herself to eat yesterday.
How had she gotten so sick?
"Oh god," she moaned as she was ill again. She felt as if her entire world were ending . . . emotionally, mentally and physically. What had she done to deserve such a life of disappointment, of failure, of . . . nothingness.
She pushed her hair back, away from her face, as she sat down on the bathroom floor. Her stomach was starting to calm again. But that was the only thing that would feel peace for a short while. She hurt, she was full of anguish and she was alone.
"Captain?" Neelix paused his hand, which was holding the skillet of eggs, and observed the change in color of Kathryn Janeway's face. "Not up to eggs ala Neelix?" Green. He'd have to say her face was green. Odd, for a human, at least.
"No," Kathryn was barely able to get the word out. "Coffee. Black." Those would be her final words for him today. She really didn't have it in her to deal with his cheerful disposition. She would not rise to the occasion -- in fact, her stomach would probably rise before her spirits would.
"I'm not the replicator," Neelix eyed her as if she were unhealthy.
Ha! She was mental! "Coffee." "Black." Neelix finished and set down the former breakfast offering. "Yes, I got that." She watched him, to make sure he was heading toward the replicator, the direction she wanted him to go in, before she headed into the main area of the mess hall.
The mess hall was nearly empty but she decided to take a chance and seat herself at the table with B'Elanna.
"Good morning, Captain," B'Elanna said softly, but with genuinely reflected openness.
"Not that good," Kathryn murmured and smiled as a coffee cup was set in front of her. She didn't look up, "Thank you, Neelix." "Anything else?" the Talaxian asked.
"Not right now," B'Elanna provided the response. He left promptly. B'Elanna directed her focus on Kathryn, "You're not well."
"We both know that without you saying it," Kathryn could feel the edges of danger starting to clip away at the core of her confirmed identity. "I wanted to talk to you about the final push of our journey. In ten hours we will be approaching Beta Quadrant space. Run Voyager at warp 8 for the last hour."
"Are you sure she can handle it?" B'Elanna asked.
"Yes. She's a woman unto my own heart," she spoke fondly of her ship -- the only thing to stick with her through it all.
"If you're wondering whether or not I know why--"
"No--" Kathryn cut her off. She stood and picked up her cup, angry that yet another person had brought up which she didn't want to talk about. "No I'm not."
"You don't want to love him if he doesn't love you," B'Elanna grabbed Kathryn's wrist that was loosely at her side.
"He doesn't love me," Kathryn stated, moving her hand to take the chief engineer's; her anger faded away, "And I don't love him."
"But he loves you," she stated very quietly. Kathryn Janeway tugged her hand away and left.
"Admiral Paris," Kathryn Janeway focused on the module at her desk. "I have been waiting a long time to meet with you on a direct link."
"Yes, those former transmissions of ours were rather tedious in the way they had to be sent, Captain," he replied. "I understand that Commander Chakotay and two of the former Maquis were able to reunite with a man named Depark."
She couldn't believe it. No doubt, Tuvok, ever logical, had taken care to send his security updates, ALL of them, out to headquarters without her approval. He had come to her, five nights ago, to voice his worries about her 'present state of mind' of which Kathryn had smartly replied that she had *no* state of mind left.
'*So what else has he told you . . . that I'm insane?*' Kathryn's mind worried.
"Yes," she answered steadily. "An unfortunate loss for Voyager." "And the Federation," he added. "Charges for the Maquis group were dated," Admiral Paris stated, "but with these recent events and questionable activities, I have no choice but to be ready for your arrival at Deep Space Nine to take into custody the remaining Maquis members." It took everything she had not to throw something. But this was Admiral Paris -- the man who had taught her, who had told her that if she cried it would be all over! How could she relate to him, though, after the amount of personal change she had been involved in. "I can't readily agree to that," she challenged. "Kathryn," he started. She flinched at the level he was trying to reach her at. "I understand and can guess at the relations you have formed over the past seven years, that things for you have been very different than anything we could have prepared you for in your years at the academy. But, the Federation has its regulations, it has its protocols and you are still a caretaker in its existence." "Where will they be detained and for how long," she cut to the chase, leaning back in her seat. "On deep space nine, after you dock. I'd say that they will be held until we understand what is happening between Depark and Chakotay. Needless to say, your debriefings will also be transpiring at that time," he provided. "I'll anticipate a full day," Kathryn said smartly, but without disrespect. "Keep me posted on the status of Depark," she felt as though the words could barely leave her mouth it was so dry with disdain. "We will see you soon," Admiral Paris smiled and the transmission was cut. Kathryn listened to the silence of the readyroom. She rubbed her hands over the smoothness of the modules keypad and thought to herself on how things had changed. She thought that when her ship and crew arrived home, it would be a fulfillment of what she wanted most of all -- but, not anymore. She just didn't want to go anywhere. "Doctor to the Captain." The hail came via her combadge. "Janeway here, go ahead." "There is a . . . transmission here for you . . . " Kathryn sat up, "Where is it from?" "I don't think where is what need concern you but . . . whom."
She had to sit down. On the screen of the Doctor's module was Chakotay himself. Why would he do this to her?? "Kathryn . . . " Her name dwindled between the two of them as she let her body land solidly and heavily on the chair at the desk. "I only have a few moments before I have to end this communication. It's too--" there was a moment of static "--risky," he finished. "Why are you doing this," she asked with a single breath. No more would leave her body. "I had to--" his words were lost to the interference of a rigged communication module, "-- never knew that he would --" it was ending . . . "-- check -- understand?" "Chakotay?" Kathryn leaned forward and began to try and clear up the transmission on her end. "Do you understand?!" his voice was steady but fighting the static as it ended. Kathryn took a deep breath, her nerves firing up as she looked to the Doctor. "That sounded rather . . . important," the Doctor stated cautiously. "It sounded like a warning," Kathryn's mind worked itself raw for a moment. "But of what." Or had her former arch angel turned against her once again. She didn't have time to think as the sip lurched a bit. "*Warp Eight . . *" her mind focused on the acknowledgment that they were heading toward Beta space. Soon there would be an alpha arrival. Voyager was running out of time.
Seven of Nine moved with cautious steps toward the door that held her mentor. She was well aware that it was 0300 hours and that no doubt the Captain was sleeping, yet Seven's humanity had reared its head in an emotion known as anxiety that, according to her human mind, needed to be resolved immediately. B'Elanna Torres had recommended the Captain for the situation. She had been reluctant to follow through, but with prodding from Mr. Paris it seemed logical enough.
