Seven quickly stood up and went over to the replicator, programming in the captain's drink and returning with it to where the woman sat quietly on the couch. 
Janeway looked surprised as she took it, gazing up at her searchingly. "Thank you," she said formally.
"I will prepare dinner," Seven told her, not only because it was that time, but because at the moment, she desperately needed something to keep her busy. She could also see that Janeway was becoming progressively uneasy, the confusion growing in her eyes with every discovery.
We have to go slowly, Seven reminded herself. All of this was new to the captain, and the Doctor had told her that Janeway might never remember everything, She had to treat the captain as if she had come forward through time, had never lived the experiences which had led to this moment. For all intents and purposes, that was exactly what had happened.
She keyed in directions for some protein, vegetables and mushrooms, placing them all on her counter after they materialized. She was aware of Janeway observing her closely, but she tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if this were just another day. She carefully did not notice when the captain got up and moved over to the counter, perching on a stool that the captain always favored during this time. 
Seven concentrated on slicing the protein and vegetables into strips before retrieving her wok from its compartment. She poured a dollop of oil in, and as she waited for it to heat, she sliced the mushrooms. Once the strips of chicken-flavored protein were sizzling in the wok, she quickly prepared Jake's supper, taking it over to his area. She wished he didn't eat so fast, but it seemed to be part of his genetic makeup. She washed her hands before returning to her counter, stirring the protein in the oil, making sure it was cooked thoroughly as she added various spices; ginger, garlic and seasonings.
Janeway had been watching this with the intensity of a scientist observing a specimen in its natural environment, sipping at her drink now and again. "Can I help with anything?" Janeway asked suddenly.
Startled, Seven glanced at her. "You do not like to cook," she said.
Amusement touched the blue-grey eyes. "No, I don't," the captain admitted. "I'm glad some things haven't changed."
Seven took a breath. "It is more efficient if you do not assist," she said gravely.
Janeway's lips twitched. "When I try to help, I'm in the way," she translated. She paused. "I gather we've had this conversation."
"On two occasions," Seven allowed.
Janeway smiled, and took another sip from her glass, seeming to be more relaxed now. Perhaps that was due to the alcoholic content of her drink, Seven allowed to herself. She did not necessarily approve, but she appreciated the medicinal properties of the drug. It was also possible that the routine Seven was imposing, was providing a subconscious relaxation for the captain as her body repeated things it had experienced many times before. The Doctor had told her that the captain's reflexes would retain their imprinting. As an example, he used Velocity. Though Janeway had learned the game after the time her memories stopped, she would probably still be the best player on the ship once the rules were explained to her. The body did not forget in this case.
Seven added the vegetables, then cast a glance at Janeway. "It would be helpful if you would set the table," she suggested gently. "The dishes and utensils are in the recycler under the replicator."
"I can do that," the captain said, seeming relieved to have something to occupy her.
Seven tried to imagine how it would be if she had forgotten her life with Kathryn, what things the captain would do in the attempt to make her remember, but her imagination was simply not that extensive at this level of her development. She would just have to think of everything the Doctor had told her, and try to apply his suggestions whenever possible. The rest of the time, Seven would just have to give the captain time and space to adapt to the situation.
She noticed that Janeway had set the table in the same manner she always had. The table was large enough for four, but Janeway had placed the dishes and utensils in their regular place settings. Additionally, when the captain sat down, it was in the same chair she always used, her back to the wall with the window so she could see the door, with Seven apparently expected to sit across from her. Perfectly normal. Seven had to remember that it was simply more of Janeway's body patterns, not an indication of her memory returning.
She stirred the last of the chicken and vegetables, covered it, then replicated the rice. She carried both large dishes over and placed them on the table before sitting down. She noted that Janeway had immediately served herself, reaching out eagerly for the spoon. More imprinting, the Borg decided.
"This is remarkable," Janeway said with surprise, as she gingerly took a bite. She favored Seven with a look. "I didn't realize cooking was a Borg attribute."
"It is not," Seven replied evenly, though the comment had stung. It was not the captain's fault she no longer knew what was sensitive to her partner, Seven reminded herself. "I learned to cook ... recently. I find it very relaxing and satisfying as a creative endeavor."
Janeway looked thoughtful. "I hadn't looked at it that way," she admitted. She paused. "I found some brownies. Yours?"
"I recreated your mother's recipe," Seven said carefully. "It was very gratifying to me that you felt I succeeded."
"You did," Janeway said. She ate a bit more of her meal. "My mother liked to cook. I never understood why. I never got around to asking." Her voice had saddened at the last.
"Gretchen understood," Seven said, before she could prevent the words.
Janeway looked at her sharply. "Indeed," she said flatly, and Seven understood that the captain had found it presumptuous that this stranger would comment on her mother.
"A few months ago," Seven explained slowly. "A device transported Commander Chakotay, Lt. Torres and myself to the Alpha Quadrant. I met your mother and sister there."
Janeway stared at her. "Why did you come back?" she asked.
"The Alpha Quadrant is not my home," Seven said honestly. "Voyager is. Also, both the Commander and B'Elanna felt uncomfortable with having returned to the Alpha Quadrant while the rest of Voyager's crew could not. We utilized the device to return here before it was completely drained of its transporting capability, and returned with a significant amount of equipment and personal items for the crew." She looked down at her plate, toying with her rice. "Gretchen taught me the basics of cooking while Phoebe taught me how to brew her special blend of coffee. I believe they wished to send something of home back to you, and this was their way of doing it."
There was silence for a long time before Seven dared to raise her eyes to Janeway's. The captain had a stricken expression, one of utter loss, and inadvertently, Seven reached over and touched her hand. Just as quickly, she withdrew it, and Janeway looked down at her plate.
"I am truly sorry to have forgotten that," she said huskily.
Seven searched for something to say. "They also sent logs for you to see," she offered. "You can view them again."
"There are a lot of logs I haven't accessed yet," Janeway replied, after taking a few seconds to compose herself. "Some of the most recent mission logs, all my personal ones ... I'm hoping they will ... trigger something."
"Perhaps they will," Seven said. "One must always have hope."
"What if they don't?" Janeway asked sharply, meeting her eyes challengingly. "What if I never remember the last three years? What if I never remember you?"
Seven met her eyes squarely. "That would be unacceptable," she said, in an utterly determined voice.
Janeway seemed startled, then to Seven's surprise and gratitude, the captain grinned that half-smile, humor curling the corner of her mouth. "I'm starting to think that you never let me get away with much," Janeway said wryly.
Seven considered that. It was a potentially loaded statement, and one she had to handle with care. "You have indicated that part of your attraction to me is a result of me treating you as an individual rather than as a rank," Seven said. "Even in the beginning when I did not like you very much."
"So it wasn't love at first sight on your part?" Janeway said sardonically.
Seven flinched at the tone but she tried not to attach too much importance to it. "No," she said quietly. "It was not."
Janeway seemed to feel she had gone as far as she dared on this topic, and she nodded briefly, concentrating on her meal once again. Seven followed her lead, and the rest of their dinner was consumed in silence. As Seven stood up to clear the dishes, she noticed that Janeway had developed the lost expression in her eyes once again.
"Jake requires exercise," Seven reminded her gently. "That is part of your contribution to his care."
"Certainly," Janeway said, standing up hastily.
Seven kept her back to the room as she worked, and for a time, everything was exactly as it should be. She could hear Janeway talking with the dog, hear his happy yips, hear the thumps and thuds as they romped in the living area. If she stopped thinking about the situation, she could believe, just for these precious moments, that everything was normal. She tidied her area, then poured wine for the captain and herself. By that time, Janeway was seated on the couch, and Jake was stretched out happily on his back at her feet as she rubbed his tummy, his jaws split in an ecstatic puppy grin.
"Thank you," Janeway said as she accepted the glass Seven offered her.
Seven hesitated, then took a seat in the chair set at right angles to the couch. She longed to be sitting next to Kathryn as she normally would be, her arm wrapped warmly around her shoulders, Janeway's head resting on her chest. This separation felt like when they were arguing, apart and cold, but Seven understood that she had to maintain a certain amount of distance in the beginning. It would take days, she knew, possibly weeks. It was not even entirely out of the question that it could even take months, but she was prepared to take as long as she needed. She would not give up on Kathryn.
"So," Janeway said, somewhat uncertainly, "I suppose I should take a look at those logs." She did not seem enthusiastic about the idea, and Seven wondered if she was apprehensive about what she might find.
"It is not required that you be updated all in one day," Seven noted quietly. Not a suggestion, merely an observation.
Janeway nodded. "I suppose you're right," she said with a sort of relief. She sipped at her wine, made an appreciative face. "This is very good." She flicked a glance at Seven's glass. "You like wine?"
Janeway had taught Seven to appreciate the flavor of the beverage during the earliest part of their relationship, but she sensed that Kathryn had about all the information about her past that she could take for the moment, and was looking for a topic that was neutral. Seven had researched the subject of wine quite thoroughly, and knew she could discuss it intelligently. She began to speak about the bouquet of the vintage, and the planet on which it had been discovered. They talked about wine for some time, then switched to other topics that Seven was careful not to associate with their status as a couple. Until finally, it was the time Seven had been dreading, but quite aware that she had to expect. 
"I suppose it's time I headed for bed," Janeway said delicately. "I don't want to put you out..."
"I intend to sleep on the couch," Seven said calmly.
"You don't have to do that," Janeway said quickly. "I can sleep on it. These are your quarters as well."
Seven took a breath. "Your sleep patterns are irregular at the best of times," she explained in a logical voice. "It is better for you to take the bed. I will be quite comfortable on the couch."
Janeway wanted to argue the point, Seven saw, but suddenly seemed too weary of it all, and merely nodded instead. Seven's heart went out to her, but she remained impassive, standing with her hands linked behind her as the captain went into the bedroom. The door slid shut with a finality that sliced through the young woman's heart, and miserably, Seven undressed and retrieved some Starfleet issued pajamas from a compartment which also contained bedding and linens. She had been anticipating this, and had made the proper preparations, but it did not make her feel any better to have to experience it.
She made up the couch quickly, and slipped into it, staring bleakly up at the ceiling. What if Janeway never remembered their love? What if everything she could do was not enough, and Janeway never again found that special bond they had shared? Seven felt tears fill her eyes, and she bit her lip to stifle the sob in her throat. She did not want the captain to hear her.
Jake trotted over and heaved his paws onto the edge of the couch, pushing his head under her arm as he nosed her side with puppy concern. Before she realized what she was doing, Seven had lifted him onto the couch beside her, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his warm coat which muffled her weeping. The dog whimpered but remained still, more to make sure that he got to stay up on the couch where he normally wasn't allowed, than out of any understanding of what she was going through, Seven was sure, but she could not deny that it made her feel better to hug him as he cuddled against her.
When sleep finally came to her, his warmth was a soothing presence that comforted her enough to keep the nightmares at bay.
 
Janeway stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered if she would ever lose the disoriented expression which was shading her eyes to gray. She had responded several times on a purely physical level during the evening, acting without thinking. When she did stop to think, she would ask herself why she had just set the table a certain way or why, when Seven had sat opposite her in the living area, she had sensed that was wrong, anticipating the warmth at her side rather than so far away. She could not remember Seven, but there was still something about her, something undefinable, yet undeniably attractive about her. 
Janeway took a breath and dropped her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she saw the imperfection in the counter next to the sink. Frowning, she bent closer and examined what appeared to be four parallel groves on the top of the counter with one below, unsure as to what kind of ship stress would cause that sort of damage to the material. It was completely beyond her scientific ken, and she wondered why she had not contacted ship's maintenance to repair it, then decided that perhaps it had happened recently, and she had not had the chance.
She put on a nightgown, realizing that she hadn't taken the bath she had planned. At least the bathtub with its accessories were still the same, and she promised herself that she would definitely have one the next evening. She cleaned her teeth and went into the bedroom, crawling into the big bed and taking up a position in the center of it, curling around a pillow. There was a faint scent on the linens, one that danced tantalizingly along her mind's edge, and sleep stubbornly eluded her as she tossed and turned restlessly. At one point, she discovered she was staring straight up, and it took her a few minutes to understand that it was her reflection she was seeing there on the ceiling.
What the hell would possess me to have a mirror put up there?
She decided she shouldn't think about that one too much. Focusing her mind, she began several relaxation techniques, and finally managed to achieve an uneasy sleep. 
 
She concentrated very hard on not trembling as she used the micro filament to alter the nodes in the woman's eyepiece. She wondered if the other could sense her nervousness, or worse, knew that her fingers were tingling so much it was hard to keep hold of the small metal probe. No one should have that much power over Captain Kathryn Janeway. 
The elegant blonde profile was a mere breath away and the full, wine shaded lips were moving. 
You were correct, Kathryn," Seven said very softly. "My desire to remain in the Delta Quadrant was based on fear. I am no longer Borg ... but the prospect of becoming Human is ... unsettling. I don't know where I belong." 
You belong with me," Janeway told her, brushing her cheek with her thumb. "You always will."

 Janeway's eyes flickered open, and she groaned softly. A wisp of dream darted away from her as she attempted to clarify it, and she blinked uncomfortably. The illumination had come up, signifying morning watch and automatically, she rolled out of bed. She went into the ensuite and took a quick shower, then dressed in the uniform she had recycled the night before. Strolling into the outer room, she raised an eyebrow as she saw the single place setting on the counter, the dishes covered with stasis lids. Intrigued, she deactivated the covers, and was surprised to find a plateful of fruit and muffins, the traditional continental breakfast. Orange juice, pulp included, filled a crystal glass, and the scent that rose from the mug was almost heavenly. 
"Well, room service has certainly gotten better," she said wryly as she sat down on the low backed stool, hooking her feet around the simulated wooden legs.
Jake, gnawing on a bone in the corner, yipped in response to her voice and trotted over to her. She fed him a few bits of muffin which he snapped up with such eagerness that she suspected it was not something she was supposed to be doing with him. She wondered where Seven of Nine had disappeared to, then realized that the young woman was probably already on duty.
Not before she had prepared this repast for the captain, however, Janeway thought. She certainly couldn't complain about the gesture, and she wondered if it was a common occurrence or if she was being pampered by the young woman because she was still considered ill. In either event, it didn't stop her from thoroughly enjoying the meal. Breakfast was not something she was in a habit of partaking of on a regular basis ... at least, she didn't think she was.
The coffee was another revelation, and she savored it as she sipped it. What was it Seven had said? That Phoebe had taught her how to make it? Seven certainly had the unique flavor down. Janeway tried to decide if she should be jealous that her sister had taught Seven the secret while steadfastly refusing to teach it to her, or simply be glad she benefited from it now. In either event, it certainly  seemed that Seven had made quite an impression on the Janeway family.
She deposited her dishes in the recycler, and headed for the door, looking apologetically at Jake who bounded after her, a ball in his mouth. "Sorry, boy," she said. "I don't have time to play."
He sat down in the middle of the floor, looking so disappointed that she decided that this was far from the first time he had tried to pull that expression. It was simply too practiced. She noticed the silver thermos on the table by the door and she paused. There was a note on it, written in precise print. 'Take to Ready Room.'
Curious, she picked it up and exited, strolling through the corridors. This was much better she thought, as she entered the turbolift. Not so much uncertainty here, and the ship was familiar as the lift rose swiftly to stop at the command center. The door opened, and swallowing her unease, she strode onto the bridge as she had so many times before. A quick glance around settled her. Everything was in the right place, and the bridge crew was still the same.
The slender, dark form of her chief of security, Tuvok, stood at tactical while Harry Kim still manned  operations. Both, however, had advanced a rank, she saw, and she made a note to remember that when she addressed them in the future. Tom Paris, still a lieutenant, half turned in his chair at the helm while Chakotay stood up expectantly.
"Captain," he greeted with honest appreciation in his voice. Around her, she could sense the sudden pleasure infusing the rest of the bridge crew, lightening their eyes, bringing smiles to their faces. Or, in Tuvok's case, a slightly raised Vulcan eyebrow.
"Commander," she returned calmly, though she was sure there was a grin curling the corner of her mouth. "Status."
She tucked the thermos under her arm, suddenly aware of the incongruity of it but no one seemed to notice, and she guessed that it was a regular accessory for her.
"The ship is maintaining course to the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay responded promptly. "We're coming up on a group of systems that Seven has assured us is non-hostile. Actually, 'unremarkable' was her term. I gather the Borg came through here a few times. It might be a place to check out."
Janeway considered that. Apparently, where Neelix had once been their native guide, Seven was now considered the expert on the area they were traversing. She would have to remember that as well, and speak to her about it later. She nodded. "Set a course, Tom," she said.
"Aye, ma'am," he responded crisply, and turned back to his board.
She blinked at the very formal reply. She didn't think it was crunch time, then realized that her crew had been sincerely worried about her. She supposed she should not be surprised by that, but it pleased and flattered her, nonetheless. Chakotay cleared his throat slightly, and she regarded him inquiringly. 
"Today is personnel reports," he said carefully.
"I tried to forget that," she joked dryly, and there was a palpable sense of relaxation that spread over the bridge at her easy humor.
"Oh, I believe it," he said with a relieved grin.
She smiled at him and turned for her ready room. "Tuvok," she said as she passed, giving him the conn as Chakotay followed her into the room.
This hadn't changed either, and she settled behind her desk with a quiet pleasure. She placed the thermos on the desk, bemused as Chakotay immediately picked it up and opened it, pouring the dark liquid it held into her cup with a practiced air. She smelled the warm, rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee, and she sent a mental thought of appreciation to the Borg who apparently was a woman of many skills. Seven certainly knew how to take care of her captain, Janeway thought.
Chakotay retrieved a mug of Tirellian tea from the replicator for himself, and settled himself in the low-backed chair opposite her, picking up the first of the padds stacked on her desk.
She took a breath. "You realize, I'm still behind here," she said quietly.
"I know," he said simply.
And they left it at that as they began to go over the reports. There was one bad moment when Ensign Wildman was up for rotation to biometrics, and Janeway suggested that Ensign MacTara could replace her. Chakotay's face sobered, and he had to inform her that the young man had died on a mission a year and a half before.
That was the only truly awkward incident, however, and when the task was done, and Chakotay had left her alone, she leaned back in her chair, daring to feel a sense of satisfaction that she was still Kathryn Janeway, still captain of Voyager, and certainly not ready to give up that role anytime soon.
She accessed her computer and brought up the remaining mission logs she had to go over, startled to see a small, but distinct, image of Seven in the corner of the screen. She supposed that it was something she had placed there, though she had never considered herself the sort to indulge in that kind of ... well, romantic twaddle. Still, it was a discrete image, and she was soon able to ignore it as she began going over the logs immediately preceding her accident.
A few hours later, she poured herself another cup of coffee from the thermos and carefully mounted the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of her Ready room. She sipped from her lucky cup as she stared out the huge windows of transparent aluminum, watching the stars streak by, distorted by the warp bubble surrounding the ship.
So much to absorb she thought. An encounter in the Beta Quadrant with a civilization very much like the Federation. A Bajoran orb which transported her people to the Alpha Quadrant and back. Recreating Kes in a holographic image which raised the question of sentience for the Doctor as well. An alien uprising, and the discovery that the Loch Ness monster now dwelt in the Delta Quadrant.
Her assimilation at the hands of the Borg.
Janeway shook her head. She supposed she should be grateful she didn't remember that, though it appeared that Seven of Nine had saved her. I must really love her, she thought dazedly. To have braved the Borg Collective to try to rescue her like that. My god, I never would have believed I would or could do that for anyone.
She contemplated the dark liquid in the porcelain cup, hoping to derive some kind of enlightenment from the smooth, velvet blackness. The recent side trip to the parallel universe where she had met a Commodore version of herself, seemed greatly commonplace compared to the knowledge of the slipstream project which had resulted from their encounter with the Borg. Apparently the propulsion drive hadn't worked perfectly the last time they tried it, the test shuttle disintegrating, leaving Seven and herself stranded on a planet for three weeks, but there was no question that the science behind the experiment, the theory itself, was entirely correct. It was just a matter of ironing out a few bugs, and adapting the system to Voyager. Once that happened ...
They would be home in three months.
Janeway regarded the passing stars thoughtfully.
It seemed the most significant thing she had done over the past three years was kidnap a drone from the Borg Collective and make her part of her crew.
If only she could remember it.
 
Seven of Nine stared at her astrometrics station without really seeing it, her thoughts swirling with the inescapable doubts and fear that she would be unable to do what was necessary to help the captain remember.  If only she were more Human, had more knowledge about this sort of situation.  Her research into it had been remarkably unhelpful, and it made her ill to think that she might actually be making things worse by imposing her presence on Janeway. 
The hiss of the astrometrics lab door interrupted this depressing line of speculation, and she looked up to see the ship's chief engineer approaching her.
"Lt. Torres," she greeted formally, knowing they were both on duty. Her voice was grave because of the situation, but there was a lightening in her heart. The Klingon/Human hybrid had become her closest friend on the ship after Kathryn, and she was very glad to see her.
"Seven," the shorter woman responded soberly. "How are you?"
"I am ... functioning," Seven said finally, after giving the question all due consideration. "It is difficult at times, but I realize that the situation could be much worse."
"That it could be," B'Elanna agreed, leaning against the console as she regarded the tall blonde with dark, intent eyes. "I can't stay long. Vorik and I are going over the bridge science station again today. I just wanted to stop by and see how you're doing."
Seven nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you," she said. She eyed the engineer curiously. "Have you discovered the cause of the captain's accident?"
The woman's face grew still. "I'm working on it," she said evenly.
Her suspicions were immediately aroused by the lack of inflection in the Klingon's tone ... B'Elanna was a bundle of emotion at the best of times ... and Seven fixed a penetrating stare on the lieutenant, frowning slightly.
"What have you discovered to date?" she insisted quietly.
B'Elanna's eyes slid away from hers uneasily. "I can't tell you, Seven," she said reluctantly. "Not yet. I don't have enough to go on."
Seven was really alarmed now by her friend's evasiveness. "Explain," she demanded, leaning forward.
B'Elanna shook her head. "I can't, Seven," she said. "Not right now. As soon as I have anything, you'll be the first to know ... after Tuvok."
Seven stared at her. "Tuvok," she repeated flatly. "Is this a security matter?"
"It could be," B'Elanna said. She frowned. "I shouldn't have told you this much.  Tuvok and I will handle this. Your main priority is looking after the captain."
That reminded Seven of her situation, and her face tightened. "She does not remember me, B'Elanna," she said softly. "She does not remember our love."
"She will," B'Elanna reassured. She grinned suddenly, though it appeared slightly forced. "Believe me, Seven. You're not the sort of person one can forget for very long. No matter how hard someone tries."
Seven recognized the attempt by B'Elanna to bring humor to the situation. She knew it was a standard practice in dealing with traumatic situations, particularly by this woman. It was honestly meant to comfort her, and she accepted the intention, rather than the literal meaning of the words.
"I try to have hope," Seven allowed.
B'Elanna's angular face softened, and she patted Seven on her arm. "Do that," she said. "I have to go."
Seven caught her hand, holding her in place as she froze the engineer with a significant look. "Find out why this happened," she said.
"I will," B'Elanna promised before she pulled away and left astrometrics.
Seven looked after her, thinking dark thoughts, then tried to resume her work. She would do herself, the ship or the captain, little good by neglecting her duties. She drew up the charts for the systems that lay ahead, utilizing her memory of the Collective's pass through here a century before, while bolstering the data with information gathered by the long range sensors. As she did, she tried not to think too hard about what the captain was doing, hoping that Janeway had found the transition back to duty easier than she had found her transition back to her personal life.
Seven remained at her post for her entire rotation, finishing the charts and sending them to operations on the bridge before beginning the next series for the area beyond the small nebula which lay ahead. However, when the chronometer display on her screen altered to indicate the end of her shift, Seven immediately logged off and headed for her quarters, hoping to prepare Janeway's favorite dish, a potato, corn and beef-flavored casserole, but when she entered the cabin, all thoughts of dinner immediately fled.
Janeway was curled up in the chair, several padds on the small table beside her, copious tears staining her face as she raised it to look at Seven. 

 

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording: 
Today Seven of Nine announced our relationship to the entire bridge staff. She came onto the bridge near the end of our shift, and asked me if I had completed my day. When I foolishly replied in the affirmative, she blithly informed me, as well as all present, that we now had enough time to make love, since the morning had left us an insufficient amount. 
I now know that it is absolutely impossible to die from sheer humiliation. Otherwise, I would not be sitting here to record this. I can only imagine what was going through the mind of Chakotay ... or my god, Tuvok. Yet, how can I be angry at her? Seven simply wants to be with me, and could care less if anyone else knows it. Since I was the one who told her this morning that we would have plenty of time to be together after our duty shifts, I have only myself to blame. I have to remember that Seven still takes things very literally and to be more careful about what I say to her in the future.

Janeway took a breath. The log entry had initially amused her, then realizing that this had actually happened to her, and not someone else, she had glanced around to see if anyone was looking. A foolish gesture since she was alone in her ready room. 
My god, Seven had certainly been a lot to handle, she thought dazedly. How did I manage to get through it? Yet, since they were still together, it was clear she had found a way. 
Absently, she lifted the cup to her lips, disappointed to find it was empty. The thermos was long drained, and with dismay, she realized she would have to use the replicator to make more. She had an uncomfortable feeling she would not enjoy that beverage nearly as much.
Glancing at the time, she realized she had only an hour or so left on her duty shift. She wasn't accomplishing much in the way of ship's business, and she decided that she would rather be in her quarters while she went over the rest of her personal logs. Especially if the last one was any indication of what she could expect. She definitely didn't want anyone coming in here and catching a glimpse of it over her shoulder. She must remember to put some priority seals on the personal logs as soon as possible so that no one would ever be able to call them up.
She logged out of the ready room, forwarding her incoming to her quarters for the duration of her shift, then picked up the empty thermos, tucking it under her arm as she headed out the door. She nodded briefly at Chakotay who had the conn. "I'll be in my quarters," she informed him.
"Understood, Captain," he said easily.
The turbolift deposited her on deck three, and she strode into her cabin, startled again by how different they were. The familiarity of the bridge, and the ready room, had lulled her into a sense of comfort, and as a result, she found the transition even more jarring than the night before. She did appreciate the adoring bundle that greeted her eagerly, however, deciding that this was change she could easily get used to. She picked Jake up in a joyful hug after first dropping the thermos on the counter.
He wiggled happily in her arms, and she thought that he felt a bit heavier today. Puppies grew so fast at this age, and she knew it wouldn't be long until she would have to start walking him throughout the rest of the ship. She made a mental note to herself to ask Seven to create more devices like the one in the corner, and have them installed on every deck. That way, no matter where she and her pet walked, they would never be too far away from one.
Seven, she thought with a spurt of excitement. What made her think she had built the device? Then she glanced at it, and recognized the unmistakable Borg influence. Who else could have constructed it? An assumption based on accumulated visual data, she decided with disappointment, not a memory.
Depressed suddenly, she released Jake before going into the kitchenette and retrieving the plate of caramel brownies from beneath the counter.After replicating a large glass of milk, the sides of the glass frosted slightly, she carried both back to the coffee table. Jake scooted over, an interested expression on his fuzzy face, but she frowned sternly at him.
"No, Jake," she said firmly.  His ears went down, and she went over to the work area.  This is pure comfort food, she thought as she bit into the gooey square, savoring the chocolate and caramel combination as she downloaded more of her personal logs from her console into a series of smaller data padds, taken aback by how many remained for her to catch up on. This could take days, she noted dismally. She squared her shoulders and returned to the chair, carrying her stack of padds. She settled into it comfortably, and reached over for another brownie, frowning as she realized the stack was a lot smaller than it had been.
She glared at Jake who looked as innocent as it was possible to look through the dark bits decorating his snout, clear evidence of his perfidy.
"Bad dog," she scolded. "Bad, bad dog." He lowered his head in shame ... and licked his chops.
She favored him with a look of disapproval, then returned her attention to the first padd. Curling up in the chair, she began to read, picking up where she had left off in the ready room.
Time passed without notice as she discovered that she had tried to stop loving Seven ... an unsuccessful attempt, obviously ... and found that Seven possessed a remarkably forgiving nature which no doubt stood her in good stead living with a Starfleet captain. Janeway also learned, much to her surprise, that Voyager's captain possessed a rather unattractive streak of jealousy, appalled at the pettiness of her log entries that had followed their arrival in the Beta Quadrant's Confederacy. She was disconcerted to realize she was disliking this Tazna Jade person without having to actually remember her.
The next log started with an entry which was thoroughly chastising to herself. She had forgotten Seven's birthday? Somehow, that did not surprise Janeway, and she made a face as she read how she had neglected her partner, overlooking plans for dinner, forgetting appointments, and then finally, being totally oblivious to Annika's special day. Janeway winced as she read how she had ignored Seven's needs time and time again but that she was hoping a special birthday surprise, albeit a few days late, would make up for it somehow. Then Janeway accessed the next entry and her blood froze, staring at a haggard image of herself, the voice broken, and barely audible.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording: 
Annika is dead. 
I say it out loud, yet it doesn't seem real. I don't want it to be real. I saw it happen and I still can't believe it. I seem to be able to absorb the loss of B'Elanna and Chakotay, but Annika .... she can't be gone. She can't. I don't know how I can go on with this, yet I know I must. The ship needs me. The ship always needs me, and as always, I find myself answering that need.
Annika is dead. 
One moment I am anticipating her return, and the surprise I have planned for her, and the next, she's gone without even a chance to tell her how much I love her. All my wasted opportunities. All the times I worked rather than be with her, all the times I put duty first and her last. I can't fix this now. I can never fix it.
Annika is dead. 
I keep wanting to ask someone why this happened, why it had to be Annika, what I have to do to make this go away. I want to scream out these questions, but I know there is no one who can answer me.
Annika is dead. 
There will be a memorial service tomorrow. The crew will look to me for guidance, for solace in this time of terrible tragedy. I will make something up, and they will accept it because I am captain, and therefore I must know how to make some sense to this ... but I don't. I will spend the rest of my life never making sense of it.
Annika is dead. 
Oh god, why couldn't it have been me?

​

Janeway stared at the tiny viewscreen as it went blank, the entry abruptly ending, and she felt her breath catch at the back of her throat as she went through the rest of the entries in the log. Such a combination of loss and guilt, she thought dazedly. The litany of despair and hopelessness seemed to be beyond bearing., yet somehow, she had managed to continue to function after Seven's presumed death, probably because she had no choice, the ship deep in the heart of hostile space. The official mission logs she had read earlier had given absolutely no indication of this private and personal hell. 
She was startled when the entries suddenly stopped, as if the person recording simply had nothing left to say. She crosschecked the Stardates, and realized that the personal logs ceased a good month before the official logs revealed the triumphant return of Voyager's three lost crewmembers. She instinctually understood that the woman, Kathryn Janeway, had stopped existing while the starship captain went on.
Profoundly, shaken, she viewed the final entry in the log.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording: 
I have been remiss in keeping up to date on my log regarding all that has happened the last three months, but what was there to say? Annika was dead ... and a very vital part of me died at the same time. But now, Annika is alive. She was always alive. Strangely, I find myself furious with her for having put me through this, for granting me this preview of hell, even though I know she had no control over what happened. She had no intention of hurting me, yet I feel as if this was her way of punishing me for my past neglect. I want to shake her for scaring me so badly. Instead, I hold her as if I will never let go, and doing my absolute best not to cry like a child. It is completely irrational but then, rational is not exactly a word I could use to describe myself these last months.
Annika is alive. 
Even now she lies asleep in our bed, and I go repeatedly to the bedroom door to look in on her, to reassure myself that I am not dreaming. That the nightmare is in fact, over. She looks so innocent, so peaceful, lying there; so very beautiful. I am unsurprised that my family absolutely adores her. Their messages rave about her, especially Mother's. I have the impression that she approves of our relationship more than any other I have ever been involved in. I don't know why. I'm not sure I want to know why. I am content that she has had this chance to know Annika, and is happy for us.
Annika is alive. 
I watched her this morning as she opened the gifts that should have been hers months ago, and thought that to have her back is a gift beyond measure, a treasure beyond price, a second chance that I probably don't deserve, but shall be eternally grateful for.
Annika is alive. 
And she is my heart. Without her, I have none, just a frozen lump of nothingness where it used to be. I don't believe she understands how much I need her. Until now, I didn't understand it myself. I will never let her down, again. I will never allow myself to put her second to anything, including this ship. I never thought I would or could say that about another human being, no matter how much I loved them.
Annika is alive. 
Finally, so am I.

​

Janeway was embarrassed by the tears flowing freely down her face, but she couldn't seem to stop them. Did she truly love Seven that much? It seemed she must, yet there was nothing within her to prove it. She strained for some sense of it, some hint of the raw, overpowering emotion that she had supposedly felt for the young woman, but it remained forever elusive. What would she do if it never returned? Would she too, cease to be? Would only the captain, the role ... the rank ... be left to carry on, to function in the woman's stead? 
The door hissed open, and she looked up to see Seven of Nine standing in the doorway. The young woman's expression spoke volumes, and clumsily, Janeway wiped her face.
"I ... I forgot the time," she said huskily, "and that you would be off duty."
"Are you all right, Captain?" Seven asked uncertainly. Janeway had to remember that, as hard as it was for her to be going through this, it had to be harder still for Seven. After all, she had not forgotten the relationship at all, the emotion still filling those pale blue eyes, though she tried very hard to hide it.
"I'm fine, Seven," Janeway responded, a bit more harshly than she intended.
Seven did not flinch, but the captain thought she saw a hint of shadow cross her gaze for just an instant.
"I'm sorry," Janeway apologized in a much gentler tone. She motioned to the padds. "I've been going over the logs and ... some of them are difficult to deal with all at once."
"I understand," Seven said carefully. She took a breath and dropped her eyes, going over to the kitchenette where she immediately began to pull out dishes and ingredients.
"Now, I know why you learned to cook," Janeway said, after an awkward pause that seemed to stretch for hours. Hesitantly, she got up and moved over to the counter, perching gingerly on the stool. "My mother is very persuasive."
"She is, indeed," Seven agreed in a subdued tone. When she finally dared to glance up, it was to study Janeway anxiously. "Would you care for anything? It will be some time before dinner is ready."
Oddly, Janeway felt humor suddenly flicker inside her, hiding her grin as she dipped her head. She is so like Mother, she thought. Food is the cure for everything. Not much wonder they got along so well.
"I'm afraid I raided the kitchen earlier," she admitted bashfully. She looked back at the glass now standing empty on the table, the profusion of chocolate crumbs scattered among the padds, the considerably diminished number of brownies on the plate testament to Janeway's love for the sweets ... and Jake's thievery.
Seven followed her glance, her eyebrow raising as she counted the remaining squares, then she favored the captain with a look of pure astonishment. "Nine?" she said. "You ate nine?"
"Well, to be honest, I only ate four," Janeway countered, trying not to laugh. "Jake, um...."
"They are not good for Jake," Seven said with dismay.
Janeway flashed her a smile. "I liked them," she responded. "So did he."
She stared at Seven, and finally she lowered her eyes, but not before Janeway had seen the amusement coloring them, whether with regards to the dog, or the fact the captain was such a pushover with him. Janeway wasn't sure which was the case, though she was glad that the mood had lightened somewhat. Slipping off the stool to retrieve her dirty glass from the table, Janeway popped it into the recycle unit, and swept the crumbs onto the carpet, intending to clean them up later, but Jake immediately pounced on them, vacuuming them up far more efficiently than any cleaning device could manage.
Janeway snuck a glance at Seven, who regarded them both sternly so she offered a mock glare to the dog. "You're going to get me into trouble," she growled. "Try not to be so obvious."
Jake wagged his tail, and looked expectantly at her for more. She grinned at him, and returned to her stool with the plate of sweets, placing it on the counter as she watched Seven layer the pastry at the bottom of the casserole with potatoes, spices, corn, and beef protein.
"I love that dish," Janeway said.
Seven hesitated, then nodded. "I know," she admitted. "I hope that by preparing your favorite meals, it might help you ... remember."
Janeway considered that. "I don't think so," she offered thoughtfully. "I mean, the concept is probably sound, but these dishes bring back my childhood, which I already remember. Perhaps if you prepared a dish that was uniquely yours, and not a recipe from my mother, it would work better." Then, she held up a hand, eyes widening with alarm. "It doesn't have to be tonight," she added hastily.
Seven, who had merely paused temporarily in her preparation, allowed a small smile to curl up both sides of her mouth. "I will not waste this," she promised. "Yet, I believe you may be right. I had not considered the fact that these meals were created so that you could have a sense of home. It was short sighted of me. Unfortunately, I do not have any recipes that are 'uniquely mine'. I utilize only Gretchen's. She gave me so many that I have not yet attempted them all, and of course, there are favorites that you enjoy having me repeat on a regular basis."
Janeway nodded. "Is there anything we did together that is uniquely ours?"
Seven stared at her, then blushed, looking down as she bit her bottom lip, suddenly extremely busy with placing the corn with just the right thickness in the dish.
Janeway was confused, then blushed herself as she thought about it. "I mean," she said self-consciously. "Something besides ... that."
"We played Velocity," Seven offered.
Janeway frowned. "The game with the disc and phasers? I never learned to play."
"Actually," Seven said gently, concentrating on her task, "you are the best player on the ship."
Janeway felt the emptiness yawn beneath her again, and took a deep breath. "Oh." She forced a grin. "The best on the ship?"
Seven looked up, eyes sparkling. "Oh yes," she said with enthusiasm. "I have never beaten you, even though I possess superior visual acuity and stamina. Although Chakotay came close to defeating you in one match, it was only because you had pulled a ligament. Even then, you beat him with a triple ricochet move that was absolutely brilliant."
"I see," Janeway responded, smiling easily now at her vivaciousness. She folded her hands on the counter, and tilted her head slightly as she regarded Seven. "We'll have to schedule a game soon."
"I would like that," Seven said, somewhat shyly. She placed her casserole in the heating unit, and set it to high.
Janeway promptly hopped off the stool, and went to set the table as the young woman began to prepare Jake's dinner. The captain realized that she did feel a sort of comfort in doing these domestic tasks, and it encouraged her that she remembered how to place the settings.
There was a chime at the door, and she frowned, looking over at Seven. The Borg appeared equally baffled, and Janeway went to answer it. The Doctor stood outside, regarding her sourly.
"You were supposed to be in sickbay ten minutes ago," he said.
Janeway winced. "I forgot," she said honestly.
"Why does that not surprise me?" he said, brushing past her to enter the quarters. He nodded briefly at Seven, then glanced at Jake who was bounding about him, barking with puppy fierceness, darting at the hologram's ankles to snap at his pant legs. "Do you mind calling off your dog?" he asked acidly.
Janeway found herself darting a look at Seven who returned it, warmed by the moment of shared amusement.
"Jake," Seven said crisply. "Good dog. Sit."
Jake glanced at her, then glared back at the Doctor though he did sit down. He did not stop growling, however, and Janeway was hard pressed not to smile at the Doctor's expression. "I'm sure he doesn't mean it," she offered.
"I'm sure," he echoed with obvious disbelief. "Captain, if we could retire to your bedroom while I examine you?"
She nodded and led the way, feeling a bit embarrassed as he stopped and gazed up at the mirror on the ceiling. "How ... decadent," he sniffed. "This certainly wasn't here the last time I visited."
Janeway was still getting used to the idea that the Doctor could now leave sickbay. "You've been in my bedroom?" she asked with distaste.
"Oh yes," he replied readily, apparently not picking up on the tone of her voice. "The last time was when Seven first rejected her abdominal implant, and was vomiting excessively. Not to mention when your lovemaking took on ... shall we say ... a violent turn."
Janeway blinked at him. "Violent?"
He glanced at her, and offered a contrite expression. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said hastily. "Nothing like that. In the beginning, Seven occasionally lost control of her hand implant during your more ... intimate moments. But it was only that one time that she shredded your back muscles. She learned very quickly to ... well, improvise. In fact, I suggested the metal rod on the headboard, and it seems to have done the trick quite nicely," he added brightly.
"Oh," Janeway said weakly. Well, at least now she knew what the metal bar was for. Lost control, he said? She made the ice queen out there lose control? Despite herself, she felt a faint sense of cockiness steal over her, but then she realized she had no memory of how she had managed to pull it off, and again, the ground grew unsteady beneath her. She swallowed her fear, knowing it was altering to anger, but unable to contain it completely.
"Let's get on with this," she said irritably, shrugging out of her tunic.