B'Elanna looked around, feeling quite comfortable in this dining room, as unfamiliar as it was. It had been decorated with obvious love over a long period of time, and the warmth of hospitality radiated from its very walls. The large wooden table, covered with a snowy tablecloth, seemed to groan from the amount of food resting on it, and B’Elanna felt saliva flood her mouth from the savory scents surrounding her. She was impatient to get started, and it was only her rarely called upon good manners that kept her from grabbing the mashed potatoes and serving herself.

She was seated next to Ro, across from Phoebe, Janeway and Seven. All the Starfleet officers had changed out of their uniforms, except for Commander Patterson, but the engineer noticed their clothing still looked a little out of place in these very old-fashioned surroundings. She glanced over at Ro for a moment, wondering if she felt uncomfortable, before being distracted by the arrival of Gretchen from the kitchen.

The eldest Janeway took her place at the end of the table next to B’Elanna, placing a large turkey on the final remaining cleared space, while Michael seated himself at the other end, directly across from her. A positioning that B’Elanna thought might be significant in some way. She made herself a mental note to ask Ro later if she knew anything. B'Elanna's instincts were on high alert, informing her that there was something quite interesting going on here.

Of course, the rest of her instincts were screaming the warning that she was starving, and if they didn't begin on this impressive spread soon, she might have to do something drastic. She was startled when Gretchen reached out and took her hand, grasping her fingers firmly, while the other reached out for her daughter's hand. Belatedly, B’Elanna realized that Gretchen expected her to stand and she rose quickly to her feet, reaching out for Ro as the rest of their group also linked hands. Gretchen cleared her throat in preparation to speak, her sapphire eyes soft. B'Elanna realized that the older woman radiated quite an authoritative presence, wondering if Janeway's command ability came from her maternal side, rather than from her father, the admiral, as she had assumed all this time.

“It's far too early for Thanksgiving,” Gretchen said in a voice that resonated with emotion. “Yet, there's nothing else that can adequately describe this day, a celebration of such gratitude for the safe return, not only of my daughter, but of my daughter-in-law and their very good friends. As we sit down to enjoy this meal, I want to thank God in Heaven for this tremendous joy, and for a day that will be celebrated for a long time in the Janeway family.”

“Amen,” Patterson intoned. B'Elanna was aware of an odd look ghosting over Janeway's face, while Phoebe fought a grin and Seven looked mildly distracted for a moment.

Something is definitely going on here, she told herself.

They resumed their seats, and the next few moments were busied with filling plates and passing dishes. B'Elanna stacked her plate high, wondering hungrily if the turkey was real, aware that Traditionalists tended to prefer organic food rather than the soy-based proteins the replicator provided, regardless of how 'real' the meals might look and taste. If it was real, however, she was very curious if Gretchen had caught and killed it herself, or if she had acquired it from a market.

Prior to dinner, B’Elanna had tracked down the only replicator in the entire house. It was quite small, located in the study possessing distinctive masculine overtones in its décor, undoubtedly where Admiral Edward Janeway had worked while he had been alive. There was also a small communications array, but the rest of the rooms resembled something out of a museum. A lived-in museum. B'Elanna was glad that she had packed enough undergarments and casual clothes for the weekend, aware that if they didn't get back to civilization soon, she might have to do something as unexpected and archaic as 'laundry'. She only had the one Starfleet uniform with her, and it had to be neat and clean when she reported for duty at Utopia Planitia in four days.

Meanwhile, she and Ro were staying in the guest bedroom on the main floor, near a bathroom that B'Elanna had been astounded to discover was entirely hydro plumbing, without any sonic applications at all. The water was even activated by twisting a handle, without any kind of temperature control panel. It had taken a certain amount of trial and error with the faucets for B’Elanna to achieve the most comfortable settings with which to wash. She thought it wasteful, and far more involved than it needed to be. She wondered if Gretchen would like her to install more up-to-date equipment.

She supposed that all this food might prove to be wasteful, as well, but was far less bothered by that. She moaned softly in ecstasy as she plowed her way through the turkey, mound of mashed potatoes, gravy, dressing, peas and carrots, and assorted pickles and cranberry sauce. Ro nudged B’Elanna quietly in the ribs, and B'Elanna knew she had become a little obvious in her appreciation when she glanced up and saw the rest looking at her with amusement.

“This is really good,” she said as justification, feeling her face heat up. “Especially after being on the ration system for the past seven years.”

Gretchen reached over and patted her lightly on the arm.

“I consider it a compliment to the chefs,” she said reassuringly. “I'm always pleased to have someone at my table who truly enjoys their food.” She glanced over at her daughter, her eyes teasing. “Such appreciation is something that I didn't always enjoy, especially since my children and their father were such light eaters.”

Janeway smiled back at her mother. “It's the Janeway metabolism, mother. We're usually on the go too much to eat properly.”

“Annika helped with the meal,” Gretchen revealed, beaming at Seven. “She prepared the mashed potatoes and steamed the vegetables.”

Seven blushed, a faint pink staining her cheeks. “Gretchen's instructions were quite clear.” Her tone was dismissive, but she still looked quite pleased by the acknowledgment.

“There's never been any question that Seven's the best cook on the ship,” B'Elanna offered loyally, offering a proud look at her friend.

Ro glanced over at Seven. “Seven, have you decided on where you're going to apply for your posting?”

Seven shook her head. “Kathryn suggested that I take the time to visit the various facilities that requested my services. Both the Ministry of Technology on Trill, and the Vulcan Science Academy have made offers for me to join their organizations. I need to visit those worlds before I make a final decision.”

“What a wonderful idea.” Phoebe offered her sister an odd look. “I wouldn't have expected it of you, Kathryn.”

Janeway eyed her younger sister. “I want Seven to fully understand all her options before making her decision,” she said in that mild tone that B'Elanna had learned to handle with care.

“Well, I think it's great,” Phoebe returned, apparently oblivious of the meaning of the tone, or ignoring it as was her purview as Janeway's sister. “Annika, as it turns out, I'm supposed to be a guest speaker at an art symposium on Trill in a couple of weeks. Why don't you come with me? We'll visit the Ministry, and then on the way back, we'll stop off at Vulcan and check out their institution.”

“That would be acceptable.” Seven offered a brief smile to her sister-in-law.

“Where will you be posted, Kathryn?” Gretchen sounded a bit concerned. “If Annika decides to go to Vulcan or Trill—”

“In that case, I'll request a posting close to her. I won't make my final decision until Seven does.”

Gretchen blinked, surprised. “You won't?”

“Of course not, Mother,” Janeway responded, a little too quickly. “Annika and I have decided that rather than pursue another command right away, I'll accept an administrative position.”

Janeway suddenly became aware that everyone, except for Seven and Ro Laren, was looking at her oddly, and she developed a defensive expression. “Why is it so hard to believe that I would adjust my career around Seven's for a change?” She glanced at Michael, who had remained very quiet until now. “Administration isn't that bad, is it?”

“Not at all,” he allowed carefully. He paused. “It's just that, in my experience, starship captains tend to be happier in more active positions.”

Janeway shrugged lightly. “Well, I suspect that in a little while, I'm not going to be very active.”

B'Elanna didn't know what that meant, but apparently Gretchen did. “Are you pregnant, Kathryn?” she asked, her face glowing as she regarded her daughter.

“No, Mother.” Janeway seemed to squirm a bit. “But Annika and I have planned to take this time to arrange to have children. That's the other reason I'm accepting an administrative position.”

B'Elanna was flabbergasted. While she could easily see Seven in such a maternal role, knowing how much Seven liked kids, she was also aware that Seven was incapable of conceiving and carrying a child. She tried to imagine Janeway with children, or even more ludicrously, pregnant, and couldn't quite manage it. She wondered how the couple would arrange to produce offspring. Would Janeway go to a genetic bank?

A vision of Janeway being artificially inseminated threw off B’Elanna's appetite for a few seconds, and with a force of will, she rid herself of the image and resumed her attack on her dinner, going back for seconds, particularly with the turkey breast and stuffing.

Phoebe nudged Seven. “Annika, come over to my place after dinner. I'll show you my studio.”

“We already have plans,” Janeway put in before her spouse could respond. “Annika and I are going to take a walk after dinner so I can show her the property before it gets dark.”

Seven regarded her with a raised eyebrow, and Phoebe shrugged. “Tomorrow would be fine, then.” She smiled with a touch of ruefulness. “In fact, that's probably a better idea. It'll give me a chance to clean up a bit.”

Janeway nodded. “I can't wait to see your new pieces. Are you still working on your series?”

“Yes,” Phoebe said, with sudden enthusiasm. “I've developed a new technique...”

B'Elanna allowed the conversation about art to fade into the background as she concentrated on her plate, wallowing in the flavors and textures that, she had to admit, replicated fare simply didn't offer. After the pumpkin pie and whipped cream had been served and consumed with enjoyment, both Ro and B'Elanna volunteered to clean up, overriding the token objections from Gretchen. Though B’Elanna was somewhat horrified to discover 'cleaning up' was not a matter of removing the dishes from the table and depositing them in the recycling unit. Instead, she found herself in front of the sink, washing them by hand in hot, soapy water which, considering the level of technology that Earth enjoyed as a society, was astonishing. As Ro dried the dishes with a 'dish cloth' and put them away in the cupboards, Michael and Gretchen busily packed away the leftovers in containers and placed them in the large cooling unit that dominated one side of the kitchen. B'Elanna made a mental note of the location, in the event she became peckish through the night.

Later, B’Elanna studied her hands curiously as she strolled out onto the front porch, wondering if those odd wrinkles in her fingers were permanent or if they would eventually disappear. Sighing, she found a seat on one of the hanging chairs and looked out over the fields. The house was situated on a slight rise, and she could see the tiny figures of Janeway and Seven in the distance, trailed by a pack of dogs as they enjoyed their walk along a dusty country road. In another direction, down by the silver glint of a stream and partially hidden in the trees, she could see another house, constructed of golden wood and gleaming glass.

“That's where I live.”

Startled, B'Elanna glanced up at Phoebe who had joined her, unnoticed.

“Yes?” B’Elanna replied politely.

“When I was growing up, I couldn't wait to get away from this place,” Phoebe explained, her grey eyes distant as she looked over the large lawns between the houses. “I found it far too quiet when all I wanted was excitement and adventure. I actually moved to Paris for a few years.”

“I guess I can understand that,” B'Elanna responded, remembering her own longing as a child to be free of the colony on Kessik IV as soon as she could. “But you came back.”

“I did,” Phoebe agreed, smiling gently. “The further away I got, the more I discovered I wanted to be back here. Maybe that's what Kathryn is finally feeling. There's nothing like being lost for seven years to make you appreciate coming home.”

“Maybe,” B’Elanna allowed noncommittally. Even after seven years in the Delta Quadrant, she had no interest in returning to her homeworld. The memories there were still too uncomfortable. In truth, she was starting to miss Voyager, and she wondered if she and Ro would be able to make a home on Mars, or if it would simply be one more stop on their journey together.

Phoebe moved over to the corner of the porch, leaning on the railing as she looked out at the sun setting magnificently in a burst of reds and golds on the horizon, leaving B'Elanna to resume her contemplation of the scenery from the swing. As the light grew dim, sparks began appearing, dancing along the level of the grass, and B’Elanna needed a few moments to identify the creatures as insects possessing a form of phosphorescent.

B'Elanna felt Ro's presence before she took a seat next to her, the chair swaying as Ro sat down. B’Elanna was quite pleased when the other woman slipped her arm across her shoulders in a casual embrace.

“Pots all dry?” she asked softly, leaning into Ro's lanky frame.

“Finally.” Ro's tone was edged with humor. “In the camps, we had to live like this. I have no idea why someone would make it a choice of lifestyle.”

“You never ate like that in a refugee camp.”

“True.” Ro patted her stomach. “Maybe there are some advantages to a Traditional lifestyle.”

 B'Elanna glanced warningly at her. “Don't become too enamored. I like replicators.”

Ro merely grinned.

Gretchen and Michael joined them a few minutes later, the pair taking a seat together on the other swing, and B'Elanna finally put her finger on what had been eluding her. The man and woman were acting like a couple, one freshly in love, and totally absorbed in each other. B’Elanna was duly impressed with Gretchen. Commander Patterson was a particularly handsome representative of the masculine species, and much younger to boot.

Darkness had completely fallen by the time Janeway and Seven finally appeared at the far edge of the expansive lawn, stars twinkling overhead in a sky that seemed to go on forever. The couple's hands were entwined as they walked slowly toward the house, and B'Elanna watched them with a sort of proprietary comfort, basking in the love that radiated from them. Their relationship had taught B’Elanna that such profound emotion was possible, and she had been blessed to have found a similar strength of connection with Ro. Upon spotting her daughter's approach, Gretchen decided that it was the perfect time for her to retrieve some lemonade for the group, disappearing back inside with Michael close behind her.

Janeway and Seven mounted the stairs leading up to the porch, the dogs bounding ahead of them to find places to flop down amid the feet of the women who were already sitting. “Where's Mom?” Janeway asked curiously as Seven leaned against the rail next to Phoebe.

“Gone to get some lemonade,” Ro explained.

“Frankly, I'd rather have some coffee,” Janeway said, which was not a big surprise to anyone. She glanced back at her spouse. “Can I get you anything, darling?”

“No, thank you, Kathryn.”

As Janeway disappeared into the house, B'Elanna nudged Seven's foot with her own. “So how do you like the local scenery? You've been gone quite a while.”

Seven quirked an eyebrow. “Kathryn had many places to show me,” she allowed in such a dry tone that it made the engineer smile. “Along with many stories.”

B'Elanna was surprised when Janeway abruptly came through the screen door only a minute later, without the coffee she had wanted. Janeway's face was pale, and considerably disturbed, B'Elanna exchanged a glance with Ro, who shook her head ever so slightly, indicating she didn't know what was going on either. Janeway didn't offer any explanation, quietly taking a seat next to Seven who had begun a discussion with Phoebe about the behavior of dogs. Neither Seven nor Janeway's sister appeared to notice Janeway's disturbance.

“Here we are.” Gretchen and Michael slipped through the door, carrying a tray with lemonade and mugs of coffee. “Enough for everyone.”

“Actually, I'm a little tired, Mother,” Janeway said in a wan tone. She stood up and nodded toward the door. “It's been a really long day. I think I'll head for bed.”

“Of course, darling.” Gretchen offered her a bit of an odd look, but did not object as Janeway disappeared into the house amid a chorus of 'good-nights' from the rest. B'Elanna thought Seven looked a bit surprised at her spouse's abrupt departure, but Seven politely made her excuses as well, and immediately followed her spouse into the house.

Leaving B’Elanna to wonder what exactly was going on.

 

“Annika.”

“Yes, Kathryn?”

“I saw my mother kissing Commander Patterson in the kitchen.”

“Indeed.”

Janeway waited for some further reaction from her spouse, surprised when nothing else was forthcoming. She took a breath and reached over for the lamp, activating it with a touch. It produced a soft glow that spread throughout the small bedroom. These walls had been witness to most of Kathryn's youthful crisis, and despite the fact it was currently furnished in a rather generic manner as a spare room, her childhood possessions long since stored away, this bedroom still felt like her haven against the outside world.

“It wasn't a friendly kiss, either,” she elaborated squeamishly, deciding that perhaps her spouse simply wasn't understanding all the ramifications of the situation. “Not on the cheek or anything. It was a passionate kiss on his mouth, the type that lovers use.”

She almost choked on what she was saying, but there were no other words to adequately describe what she had witnessed in the kitchen. The vision of her mother and Commander Patterson clenched in a romantic embrace against the kitchen counter, Gretchen's arms entwined tightly about the younger man's neck as she kissed him with amorous abandon, was etched indelibly into Janeway's mind, and it served to send a shudder of dismay through her, even now. She still wasn't sure how she had managed to silently close the door and return to the porch, walking on unsteady legs that threatened to give way any second.

“I understand,” Seven said, greatly unmoved at Janeway's explanation.

A suspicion descended upon Janeway and she rose on her elbow, looking down at her spouse lying in the bed next to her. Seven was stretched out on her back, hands linked primly over her stomach on top of the blankets, dressed modestly in a flannel nightgown that had once belonged to Phoebe. Janeway had found it in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and insisted that they be 'properly dressed for bed while they were staying in her mother's house'. Seven had obviously not understood the necessity for such formality, but she had silently acceded with nothing more than an odd look at her.

“You knew.” Janeway was certain of her assertion when she saw Seven's eyebrow quirk in acknowledgment. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I tried.” She paused, eyeing her askance. “That was the reason I asked on two separate occasions to speak to you privately before we left Voyager. If you had allowed me the 'moment' as you promised, the encounter downstairs would not have come as such a shock to you.” She paused, reconsidering that. “Or perhaps it would still have been shocking, but the encounter in the kitchen would not be so unexpected.”

Janeway didn't know what to say, the storm of emotion leaving her weak and feeling quite helpless in the aftermath. “When ... why...” She stopped, taking a deep breath as she lay back down on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Oh, my God.”

Seven was silent for the moment. “Is that why you insisted on going to bed so early, even though everyone else remained on the front porch to talk?”

The low murmur of voices from the front porch had fallen silent some time earlier, and Janeway suspected that everyone else had either gone home or went to bed. Only the steady buzz of the crickets remained, along with the rustle of a light breeze through the leaves of the large maple outside, whispering as it wafted through the window screen, making the lace curtains sway slightly, bringing with it the scents of growing things in the cool summer evening.

“I couldn't look my mother in the face,” Janeway admitted in a raspy voice, her hand over her eyes. “When did this start?”

“Not long after Voyager's contact with Starfleet Command was initiated. At Admiral Paris's request, Commander Patterson was given the task of personally delivering our letters to Gretchen. The second time he visited, he accepted an invitation to join her for lemonade. Phoebe says that the romance progressed from there until they became intimately involved a little more than a month ago.”

“How do you know this?” Janeway demanded, exasperated as she glanced over at her spouse.

“Phoebe described the courtship in her most recent letter to me.” Seven paused. “I am surprised that Gretchen did not write you regarding this.” Janeway was silent, and Seven glanced over at her. “Kathryn?”

“I haven't had a chance to read the last letter I received from her,” Janeway admitted reluctantly. “I guess I thought that since we were returning home anyway, I could catch up on any news in person.”

“You are certainly 'caught up' now,” Seven pointed out brightly.

Janeway flinched. “Why didn't you tell me before dinner? Or when we took our walk afterward?”

Seven looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Before dinner, I was busy helping Gretchen prepare the meal. During our walk, it never seemed to be 'the right time'. You were so happy to be back on Earth, and completely involved with showing me around the farm, pointing out all the various places you enjoyed as a child, that I did not wish to unduly upset you. I had planned to tell you tonight as we readied for bed, but you were most uncommunicative.”

Janeway frowned irritably. “It was a little too late at that point, anyway.”

Seven hesitated, then nodded apologetically. “You are correct. It was a 'calculated risk' on my part that failed. Obviously, I am not as adept with making such decisions as you are. I should have found a way to tell you during our walk.”

“Well, it's water under the bridge now.” Janeway wasn't particularly happy with Seven, but realized there wasn't much that could be done about it. She paused. “He's more than twenty years younger than she is, you know,” she added in a tone of outrage. “He's my age, young enough to be her son!”

“I am more than fifteen years younger than you,” Seven noted dispassionately. “Young enough, technically, to be your 'daughter'. Why is the difference in age all right for us to overlook in our relationship, but not all right for your mother?”

Janeway opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, and then shut it, frowning as that comment stymied her for the moment. “It's not the same,” she said lamely.

“I fail to see how it is different.”

“What does she see in him?”

Seven raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps the very traits that you initially found engaging. He is handsome, charming and very intelligent. In addition, he appears to be in good health and undoubtedly maintains a robust physicality due to a Starfleet regime of cardiovascular pursuits.”

“Oh, God,” Janeway moaned, covering her face again. “What does he think he's trying to accomplish with her?”

Seven was obviously surprised, raising up on an elbow to look down at Janeway. “Gretchen is an extremely beautiful woman, Kathryn. She is highly intelligent, her personality is one of warmth, humor, and strength, and her enthusiasm for life is very engaging.” She raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, she is the very sort of woman I would find most attractive, were I not already involved with you.”

“Seven!” Janeway exclaimed, dropping her hands to the blanket over her chest and staring Seven in mingled squeamishness and astonishment. “That's my mother you're talking about!”

Seven sighed. “She is not just your mother, Kathryn. Gretchen possesses several degrees in history, art and political science, serves on the board of education for the Agricultural Park, and holds a seat on the local governmental council. She privately tutors various children and young people, while maintaining this farm. She is very capable and quite vibrant.” She paused, tilting her head slightly as she thought about it. “In fact, she is very much like you in many ways.”

Janeway took another, steadying breath. “You got all that about my mother from the letters you received?”

“Phoebe has been quite informative in describing life here in the Agricultural Park so that I would be properly prepared for it. The rest I can clearly determine on my own.”

“Oh, God.”

Janeway simply didn't know what else to say, completely overwhelmed by this news. Worse, it felt as if Seven had been keeping things from her, which wasn't entirely fair to Seven. It was Janeway's fault that she hadn't read the most recent letter from her mother, nor taken the time to discuss certain things in greater detail with Seven. Of course, she could point to her many duties as Voyager's captain as a form of excuse, but the truth was, she had been too casual with the personal things she needed to know prior to her return, certain that she would have plenty of time to deal with them once she was home. She believed that preparing Seven for her new life on Earth was far more important than her own adjustment.

It had never once occurred to her that Seven would be far more knowledgeable about what was going on in Indiana than she was.

She exhaled and tried to compose herself. Beside her, Seven remained quiet, though she reached out and took Janeway's hand, granting her the space to come to terms with this in her own time and in her own way. Despite her unsettled emotions, Janeway felt a rush of tenderness ripple through her, realizing that she did have the most wonderful spouse for troubled times such as these.

Annika is correct, she reminded herself sternly, allowing the touch of her to help soothe her. If the age difference was irrelevant to her and Seven, then certainly it should be to her mother. She did wonder, however, why Gretchen would settle for a commander when she had been married to an admiral. She reached over and turned out the light, allowing the peaceful darkness to descend upon them once more.

Suddenly, an odd sound reached her ears, one that seemed, in Janeway's opinion, very out of place and inappropriate in this most Traditional of houses.

“That's B'Elanna and Ro,” Janeway said, her anger rising at the couple's inability to keep their hands off each other. She sat up, frowning as she glared into the darkness, hearing the unmistakably rhythmic squeak of bedsprings. “I can't believe those two. Have they no discretion?”

Seven tilted her head, listening intently for a moment. “That is not B'Elanna and Ro,” she corrected with complete certainty. “They are in the guestroom downstairs. That sound is coming from the larger bedroom down the hall.”

Janeway stared at her spouse blankly before the reality of what her was saying washed over her. She had assumed Patterson had left hours ago, though now that she thought of it, she could not remember hearing the hovercraft departing to take him to the Portage Creek Transport Station.

“No,” she whispered in absolute horror.

Seven glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as other sounds became audible, soft cries, feminine in nature, far more vocal than the lower, masculine grunts of pleasure, escalating slightly as the rhythmic sounds increased.

“Now, I know why you are so verbal,” Seven noted in a scientific tone. “It is hereditary.”

Janeway did not wait for the crescendo of what was going on in her mother's room, leaping out of bed and grabbing her robe and slippers before she dashed out the door of her bedroom. She was vaguely aware that she was being childish, but she couldn't help herself, clamping her hands over her ears as she slipped down the hall to the stairs. Descending them in a rush, she tiptoed to the front door which she closed softly behind her. She remembered to breathe again once she was running across the lush lawn, not entirely sure where she was going, except that it was away from the house and all the things that she wasn't ready to deal with. Her feet took her unerringly on a path that hadn't been traveled in quite some time, and she discovered that her willow tree was still there, still offering shelter beneath its drooping branches to a distressed and confused Kathryn Janeway, just as it had so many times before. She sat down on a low branch, not really thinking, just trying not to fall apart.

She started abruptly when a comforter was draped over her shoulders and Seven of Nine sat down beside her.

“Your footwear is inadequate for this terrain, or for this time of the evening,” Seven noted sternly, regarding Janeway's slippers that were soaked through from the dew on the grass, the hem of Janeway's nightgown sodden and dripping around her ankles.

Janeway did not reply, but was somehow not surprised to discover that, not only had Seven taken time to retrieve a comforter, she had also pulled on her uniform boots and brought Janeway's along as well. Janeway did not object as Seven carefully removed her saturated footwear, drying Janeway's feet with a corner of the blanket before she slipped the boots over them. Janeway shivered, and Seven moved under the blanket with her, wrapping her arms around her as she pulled the padded quilt around their bodies.

“It will be all right, Kathryn,” she whispered in a comforting tone, cradling her like a child. “I do not understand why this disturbs you so much, but I do know that it is not a bad thing. Commander Patterson makes Gretchen happy in a way that she was not, the last time I saw her.”

Janeway swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “I know,” she husked, tears welling in her eyes. “It's just that ... Daddy ...” She took a breath, frustrated and angry, not sure where it was springing from. “It's as if she's forgotten all about Daddy.”

“I am sure she has never forgotten your father, Kathryn,” Seven assured her quietly. “But she has been alone for a long time, far longer than you were on Voyager when I became involved with you. Would you really wish to deny her happiness?”

“Of course not,” Janeway whispered. “It's just so hard to imagine she could be happy with anyone else. It makes me feel a little sick inside, I guess.”

Seven kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I am sorry this is so painful to you, Kathryn. I do not believe it was anyone's intention to hurt you.”

Some small sense of perspective reasserted itself after picking itself up shakily from where the blow had flattened it. “I guess once I have a chance to get used to it, it won't be so horrific. Patterson's not such a bad guy.” Janeway paused, breathing deeply. “Annika, he's only a commander!”

Seven made a small sound in her throat, one of sympathetic amusement. “I am 'only' a lieutenant. Besides, I am sure Gretchen did not take his rank into consideration when she chose him as a mate.”

“'Mate',” Janeway echoed. She closed her eyes. “Oh, God.”

Seven stroked Janeway's hair soothingly. “Kathryn, you will adapt,” she assured her, her arms strong and warm around Janeway, offering all her support and love without hesitation. “It will be all right.”

Janeway was not sure it would ever be all right again, but she also knew she couldn't continue to react this way. It was completely immature and totally unlike the strong, capable woman she perceived herself to be, regardless of how adrift she felt now.

“Annika,” she whispered finally.

“Yes, Kathryn?”

“I think we should live in San Francisco,” Janeway said, swallowing hard. “Rather than stay here with mother and and Commander Patterson.”

Seven hugged her. “That is wise.”

Janeway inhaled deeply and buried her face into the warm haven of Seven's neck, wondering how she was ever going to come to terms with this one.

 

Seven of Nine blinked as the unfamiliar sound of birds spilled into the bedroom through the open window, the astonishingly loud noise of their cries penetrating her unconsciousness and prodding her awake. She yawned, aware of Janeway’s warm body sprawled bonelessly over hers, soft skin pressed deliciously against her own, wonderfully unencumbered by flannel or anything else. She didn't know what time she and Janeway had made their way back to the house, but everything had been dark and quiet as the couple tiptoed up the stairs and into their room. They had removed their damp nightgowns, draping them and the comforter over the chair beneath the window to dry before crawling between the sheets where they immediately fell asleep in each other's arms.

Breathing deeply, Seven inhaled the fresh morning air, aromatic with the light perfume of flowers, along with the muskier and pleasantly familiar scent of her. She dipped her head, seeking out Janeway's mouth, capturing it in a slow, melting kiss, love for her filling her with its strength and joy. The slumbering captain stirred at the touch of Seven's lips, returning the kiss with drowsy pleasure, a soft sound rippling up from the base of her throat. Seven deepened the embrace, joyfully tasting the sleepy flavor of her spouse, enjoying the way Kathryn returned her touch, Janeway operating purely on instinct at this point, not really awake.

Running her hand down to Janeway's breast, she cupped the small mound of flesh, chafing the nipple that grew hard beneath her thumb, inciting a moan of pleasure from her spouse. Desire heating her blood, Seven urged Janeway over onto her back, conscious of the smaller dimensions of this bed as compared to the one they had shared on Voyager, careful to keep them both away from the edge. Her lips traced a searing path down the Janeway’s throat, falling upon her proud little breasts with avid delight, teasing the soft brown nipples with her lips and tongue, feeling Janeway's fingers tangle in her hair.

Suddenly, Janeway froze, her entire body becoming a taut band of resistance, and greatly confused, Seven raised her head.

“Kathryn?”

“I can't,” Janeway responded in a hushed whisper. “Not here, and not now.”

Seven hesitated, and then rolled back onto her side of the bed. She reached out with her left arm and pulled Janeway to her, drawing her head down onto her shoulder. “Very well,” she said quietly, resting her cheek on the soft, auburn hair. She did not entirely understand why Janeway was reacting this way, but she knew she had to respect it. She rubbed Janeway's back idly.

“I'm sorry, darling,” Janeway said miserably.

“I understand, Kathryn,” Seven assured her, pressing her lips consolingly on Janeway's brow. “It is impossible to make love when you are uncomfortable with your surroundings.”

“I shouldn't be uncomfortable,” Janeway replied fretfully. “This is my home.”

“I do not believe you feel that way any longer.” Seven looked down into the classic features, studying her intently.

Janeway hesitated, sadness tinging her grey gaze. “No, I don't.”

Seven exhaled slowly. “I think that you need to speak with your mother, Kathryn. You must attempt to resolve this, or you will continue to be unhappy, regardless of where we live.”

Janeway looked quite resistant to the idea, her jaw firming in an obvious gesture of disagreement, and Seven brushed her fingertips along the squared line to soften it.

“It does not grant you any benefit to avoid it.”

“Damn,” Janeway said finally, reluctance evident in every muscle. “I hate this.”

“I know.” Seven hugged her sympathetically. “But it must be done.”

“Can't I save it until after we move to San Francisco?” her spouse asked plaintively. “Over a comm link?”

Seven frowned. “Kathryn, you are being irrational.”

Janeway frowned and looked stubborn, but rather than pursue it, Seven chose instead to nuzzle her spouse lovingly on the neck, kissing a soft line up to her ear.

“I do love you, Kathryn,” she murmured into the delicate shell-like organ.

Janeway immediately melted and managed to look ashamed.

“I'm being an ass, aren't I?”

“You are definitely displaying certain obstinate traits.” Seven smiled and added with a touch of dry humor, “Yet, your stubbornness is one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Well, your patience is one of the reasons I fell in love with you,” Janeway muttered, snuggling closer. “God knows, you've had plenty of cause to call on it lately.”

Seven smiled, but did not disagree. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against the soft pillows beneath her, feeling drowsiness steal over her. She felt Janeway nudge her.

“Are you going back to sleep?”

Seven sighed. “Do you have some objection? It is still very early.”

“I thought we could cuddle for a while,” Janeway suggested wistfully.

“I thought we were cuddling.”

“I want you to kiss me while we're cuddling.”

Seven opened her eyes so that she could look down into the classic features. “That can be arranged.”

“I'd hate to have to make it an order,” Janeway muttered as she raised her face.

Seven smiled and inclined her head, closing the distance between them so that she could cover the firm lips, settling into a series of slow, melting kisses that enhanced her desire without satisfying it. She suspected it was also arousing Janeway, despite Janeway's earlier objection to making love in this room, and before long, she felt Janeway's hand slip up to cover her breast, fingering the pink nipple gently.

“Kathryn?” she whispered against the tender mouth.

Janeway hesitated. “Maybe if you're very, very quiet.”

Since Seven was far less vocal than Janeway while sharing pleasure, she wasn't sure why Janeway thought she needed to establish such a parameter for her, but she did not argue.

“I shall be very quiet,” she promised, her voice barely audible. Janeway immediately increased the intensity of her caress, rolling Seven's nipple between her fingertips, the point hardening as it tingled beneath the provocative touch.

It was almost more exciting this way, Seven decided as they continued to kiss deeply, stroking each other with languid intent. Limiting any noise they made seemed to enhance the sensation, and the sounds they did make, the moist exchanges of their lips and tongues, the whisper of increased respiration, the subtle hiss of skin slipping gentle over curves beneath the blankets that lay over their entwined bodies, only served to heighten the stimulation being provided Seven. But Janeway was not normally this restrained, and Seven worried briefly if being forced to remain so silent was inhibiting Janeway's enjoyment in their lovemaking. It was a theory that ultimately proved false when she finally slipped her fingers between her legs, and discovered a wildly abundant moisture awaiting her in the delicate heat. Janeway made a low sound in her throat, unable to stifle it, and she promptly buried her face into Seven's neck to muffle any further outburst.

Seven caught her breath at the sensation of wetness and tender flesh beneath her touch, fondling the hard little ridge with slow, easy pleasure, aroused by the liquid sound that her fingers made in the viscous moisture. As she finally slipped into her with loving tenderness, Janeway shuddered violently, expressing her arousal in an uncontrolled physical display in lieu of a verbal one. Clinging to Seven with one arm wrapped tightly around Seven's neck, she explored Seven intimately with the other, her sticky caresses also audible in the quiet room. Seven smiled as she felt Janeway shudder a final time, the clinging walls fluttering around her fingers, Janeway muffling her helpless whimper into Seven's neck. Then, Seven lost her smile as her own climax was triggered by Janeway's insistent fingers, the pleasure sweeping over her as she jerked once, and then again, the pulsations growing almost unbearable before she was finally able to relax, completely sated.

The couple lay for some time in lazy contentment, basking luxuriously in the warm afterglow, still snuggled together in the center of the small bed.

“I guess there's something to be said for having to be quiet,” Janeway mumbled finally.

Seven lifted a brow. “I do find the size of the bed limiting.”

Janeway chuckled softly. “No need to worry about that, love. I intend to have a new bed put in our house in San Francisco as soon as I can.”

Seven smiled lazily and nuzzled her, nibbling along her neck. “Would that not encourage us to disturb the neighbors?”

“Not at all,” Janeway promised. “The house is separated from others by lawns and quite a few trees, all surrounded by a high, cedar wood fence. You'll love it, and so will Jake.”

Seven ran her fingertips lightly up Janeway's arm, noting the goose bumps that rose in the wake of the caress. “I'm sure he will.” Carefully, she trailed her fingertips over to Janeway's breast, stoking the nipple gently.

“Stop,” Janeway warned softly, even as she arched closer. “We got away with it once. I don't think we could a second time. People will be up soon.”

Seven smiled and nipped at her ear, but as she did, she heard the door open downstairs and footsteps head for the main floor bathroom. Ro, Seven decided after listening closely for a few seconds, the tread lighter and more graceful than B'Elanna's more aggressive and brash footsteps. Seconds later, Seven heard movement in the bedroom down the hall. She knew it contained its own private ensuite, which was fortunate, because she did not know what Janeway would do if she ran into Michael coming out of the upstairs bathroom in a state of dishabille.

“You are correct,” she said regretfully as she eased her embrace. “I hear our housemates stirring now.”

“Then we should get up as well,” Janeway said, rolling out of bed where she drew on her robe, moving over briefly to the chair by the window to check on the nightgowns and comforter.

“Still damp,” she noted with dissatisfaction as she prodded them.

Seven tilted her head. “In the future, perhaps you should consider dressing in more suitable attire before dashing from the house in the middle of the night.”

Janeway shot her a baleful look and Seven grinned faintly at her.

“You're not funny.”

“In fact, the comment I made was quite amusing. Assuming I correctly understand the concept of observational humor.”

Janeway stared at her, then was forced to look away as an unwilling grin touched her lips. “I think I liked it better when you didn't understand humor.” Janeway retrieved some clothes from her bag. “I'm going to take a shower.”

“Would you appreciate some company?” Seven asked hopefully.

Janeway shook her head. “I would love that, but you can't.” At the doorway, she paused and turned back to look at her spouse wistfully. “Annika, I promise, once we're moved into the house in San Francisco, things will be more normal between us. There won't be this need to watch what we say and do.”

Seven nodded. “Very well, Kathryn,” she said, though she wasn't exactly sure why they had to 'watch' themselves in Gretchen's house. Janeway being 'Human' again, no doubt.

Janeway disappeared, and Seven slipped out of bed, pulling on the crimson robe she had brought with her from Voyager. As she did, it struck her again that this was not a temporary stopover, not a leave where she would soon be returning to the ship quarters that she had considered her home for so long. She felt her heart start to pound unpleasantly, and it occurred to her that if she concentrated on Janeway's disturbed emotions, she didn't have time to recognize how unsettled she was feeling. She took a slow, measured breath, forcing down her fears into a more controlled part of herself.

Standing in front of the window, she looked out at the early morning mist which was rising on the fields, tinted gold in the soft light of the rising sun. It was beautiful, she decided, even strangely familiar in a way, but obviously it was not home, not even to Janeway. She hoped that her was right, that once they had changed their place of residence to San Francisco, they would be able to establish a more normal routine and begin to feel less displaced.

The sound of the door opening behind her made her turn, and she was disturbed to discover that more time had passed during her reverie than she had realized. Janeway was dressed in a light blue shirt and some form of blue, denim trousers, with brown hiking boots on her feet. She looked completely different than she did in her Starfleet uniform, and again, Seven felt an odd sort of disquiet in her chest.

“What's wrong?” Janeway asked quietly as she picked up her brush and began to sort out her hair, still damp from her shower.

Seven shook her head. “I believe I find myself missing Voyager.”

Janeway immediately stopped what she was doing and came over to slip her arms around Seven's waist. “I do, too.” She shook her head, looking somewhat dismayed at the admission. “Ironic, isn't it? We spent so many years trying desperately to get back to the Federation, and now that we're here, I feel out of place. I guess what they say is true; you really can't go home again.”

Seven was appalled at that saying, and it must have shown on her face because Janeway winced and sighed softly. “Don't listen to me,” she begged Seven, hugging her tightly. “I'm still cranky from last night.” Reaching up, she kissed Seven apologetically on the mouth. “Let's just get on with it, darling. Go take a shower, dress in the clothes I put in your bag, and then you and I will have some breakfast before we visit Phoebe's studio.”

Seven bent her head, allowing Janeway to nuzzle her chin. “Very well, Kathryn.” She paused. “What clothes?”

Janeway quirked her eyebrow and drew away, finding Seven's carryall and pulling out pants similar in material to what Janeway wore, along with a white shirt and some undergarments.

“This is what we wear on the farm.” Janeway held them out. “I replicated them for you before we left Voyager. I also have some boots for you, as well.” She pointed at the hiking boots tucked in the corner, and Seven marveled that Janeway had found time to acquire all these things, especially considering that she couldn't find time to read her correspondence. She was also quite touched, realizing that her spouse had been attempting to smooth Seven's assimilation into the Indiana culture by providing her with the proper garments.

Seven accepted the clothing, leaned down to kiss Janeway softly on the lips in gratitude, and obediently headed for the bathroom where her spouse had left her some dry towels. She discovered that the combination tub and shower unit was still damp from Janeway's usage, and somewhat unpleasant. Seven studied it with a certain amount of misgiving, wondering why there was a fabric curtain rather than a door or a force field to keep water from spilling onto the floor. There was only the one shower nozzle as well, and it took Seven some experimentation before she could find a proper temperature. She hoped that the house in San Francisco was more technologically advanced.

Seven showered quickly before drying herself off and dressing in the clothes Janeway had given her, finding the pants somewhat binding around the hips and crotch. She remembered wearing similar garments in a holodeck simulation involving a Mississippi riverboat, and fortunately, the 'jeans' seemed to grow more comfortable the longer she wore them, the fabric molding to her body. She went into the hall, noting that the polished wood floor was cool through her sock feet, as well as somewhat slippery, a possible hazard that made her step lightly. As she returned to the bedroom, she saw that Janeway had made the bed and was kneeling on the carpet next to the open door of the closet, looking at a stuffed bear that was like the one Naomi had possessed on Voyager. Janeway had a bittersweet expression on her face, and her blue-grey eyes were distant as she held the toy before her.

“Kathryn?”

Janeway glanced up at her, her mouth twisting a bit. “It's Bobo. I found him on the top shelf of the closet.”

Seven gracefully lowered herself to the rug beside her spouse and regarded Janeway compassionately.

“One of your childhood toys. The confidante I replaced.”

Janeway managed a smile. “Fitting, isn't it? My finding this, I mean. Certainly, I've been acting like a child since I got here.”

“Not a child,” Seven corrected immediately. “Merely an individual trying to redefine her parameters.”

“I'm surprised he wasn't thrown out,” Janeway said absently, running her fingertips over the glass eyes and the fuzzy muzzle.

Seven reached out and took it from her, Janeway regarding her in surprise.

“I am glad he was not,” Seven told her soberly as she held him on her lap. “He is required to fulfill his role as confidante to our firstborn.”

Abruptly, Janeway's face became soft and vulnerable, displaying that half-pleased, half-abased expression that Seven adored so much. She leaned forward, putting her hands on Seven's forearms that were wrapped around the bear, and kissed her gently, a sweet acknowledgment of love and tenderness.

“You're absolutely right, darling,” she said with rueful agreement. “It's time for me to stop living in the past and start looking to our future.”

Seven pulled her onto her lap, along with the stuffed toy, holding them both tightly.

“I concur, my Kathryn,” she whispered into her hair. “We both shall.”

 

Epilogue

 

“Samantha T. Cogley.”

Sam Cogley winced as she heard the unpleasantly strident tone of her Ferengi landlord. The maintenance for her office was a little behind—all right, it was a lot behind—and she wondered if she pretended she wasn't there, he would possibly go away.

“I know you're in there,” he snapped, pounding on the door. “You can't fool me.”

She kept her mouth shut, watching the padds in front of her shiver and vibrate perilously close to the edge of her desk. She held her breath, and then looked up when the pounding stopped.

“Fine, don't answer the door, but that won't change the facts,” he continued yelling through the portal. “If you don't have the rent by the end of next week, I'm having you evicted.”

Since she also lived here, that was not an idle threat and she winced. Finally, the sound of him stomping away granted her a temporary reprieve, the pounding of his steps interspersed with muttered comments about how stupid he was for managing to rent space to the only lawyer in Federation history who didn't know how to make a credit.

That was an exaggeration. She knew how to make credit. She just didn't do it on a regular basis. Frowning, she picked through her padds, looking for something a little more substantial than the bills that most of them had downloaded from her mailbox on Spacenet. She was astonished to find an inquiry as to her availability to take a new case and intrigued, she scanned it, blinking as she read the details.

A Borg? On Earth? Requiring legal counsel to define her rights as a citizen of the Federation within the confines of Starfleet?

Well, that certainly wasn't the normal type of case she accepted. For one thing, the client offered payment up front, she noted sardonically. But it did sound interesting and if she didn't make some credit soon, she could lose her office. A lawyer without an office was like, well, a Starfleet captain without a starship. Somewhat adrift and without resources.

She keyed in the communications system, finding out how soon she could catch a transport to Earth. To Portage Creek, Indiana, to be precise. She was somewhat appalled to discover that she also had to make arrangements for primitive ground transport from the spaceport because this client was apparently in the middle of a Traditionalist community of some sort that prohibited transporters and air trams.  She added it to the expense account she intended to present along with her services.

So long as long as this Phoebe Janeway could pay, Samantha was going to take this case. A credit was a credit, and frankly, it had been too long between making any. What would her namesake, the renowned Samuel T. Cogley think? Always get the money up front, he had told her on more than one occasion.

Certainly, old Sam had been one hell of a lawyer, defending the legendary Captain James T. Kirk in a Starfleet court martial. Defending a Borg would have been nothing more than a walk in the park for him.

Perhaps it might even be a walk in the park for his great, great granddaughter.

 

The End

On to JB 43