Janeway sat in her kitchen chair and crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she were anywhere but where she was. The last thing she wanted to do this bright sunny morning was to talk with her mother about Gretchen's relationships with men, regardless of who they were.

“I loved Edward very much,” Gretchen began calmly, resting her linked fingers on the tabletop as she gave Janeway her full attention. “He and I shared something very precious and loving.” She regarded her daughter intently, as if expecting some sort of response.

“But you resented him for leaving,” Janeway noted with what she hoped was a perfectly neutral tone. “You resented Starfleet for taking him away.”

Gretchen shook her head. “Not at all.” She surprised Janeway, who decided from her expression that her mother was being perfectly honest. “I knew he was dedicated to Starfleet long before I married him, and it didn't matter to me. I accepted that he would sometimes have to put his duties before anything else, even our relationship. I loved him enough to be content with whatever part of himself he could give me, and he did his best to give me as much as he could. When we were together, nothing else mattered but how we felt about each other.”

Janeway frowned. “Then why—” she started to ask, then paused, firming her jaw. She didn't know the right questions to ask in this situation and it frustrated her.

“Your father and I made the classic mistake that all young people make.”

“Which was?”

“We thought we had all the time in the universe.” Sorrow suddenly edged Gretchen's gaze. “In the beginning, it didn't matter that he had to be away so much, because we knew in our hearts that one day we'd be together. Then you came along, and Phoebe, and we didn't notice the years slipping away, didn't realize how much we were losing in the process of always working for that intangible future when we could be a real family. It was a mistake that cost us dearly in the end. Your father gave his entire life to the Cardassian situation, a situation that never ended.”

Janeway felt the sharp, familiar pain strike her chest, as if her father's death had happened only yesterday. It was something that, in many ways, she had not fully come to terms with, though she had never really examined why, beyond a few minor discussions with Seven late at night. As it were, those discussions were far more than she had ever shared with anyone else, including this woman sitting across from her.

“Until now, perhaps,” Janeway managed in a dispassionate tone. “My understanding is that the war practically destroyed the Cardassian empire. They're just not the same threat they used to be.”

“Not before they introduced us to a much larger one.” There was a bitterness in her voice, a type of anger and resentment that was completely unlike anything Janeway had ever heard from her kind, generous mother. “They provided the Dominion with the toehold into the Alpha Quadrant that the Founders were looking for.” Janeway blinked as her mother stared at her with an unusual intensity. “Kathryn, I missed you dearly while you were in the Delta Quadrant, but I have to admit that there were several times when I was very glad you were well away from all that was happening.”

Janeway quirked her eyebrow. “It wasn't exactly a stroll in the park out in the Delta Quadrant either, Mother.”

Gretchen nodded. “I know,” she said, reaching over to put her hand apologetically on Janeway's forearm. “But the threats you faced were ones I could only imagine. The Dominion and the Jem'Hadar were very real to us in the Federation, and the casualty reports were something that had to be seen to be believed. A great many were officers our family knew personally; associates and subordinates of your father, officers who had gone through the Academy with you, had served with you later in your career. Kathryn, once you see the memorial standing outside Starfleet Headquarters, I think you'll be horrified at just how many names you'll recognize etched in the stone.”

Janeway dipped her head and loosened her defensive posture a bit. Her mother was correct in saying how hard it was to understand what it had been like. During the period she and Voyager had been lost, Earth had twice been on the verge of being conquered, first by the Borg, and then by the Dominion. Sometimes Janeway felt a small sense of responsibility for that, as if by being lost, she had denied herself the chance make a difference in the Alpha Quadrant. If only she had made other choices, things would not have become so dire for her friends and family.

Seven, of course, would point out that such thoughts were arrogant in the extreme and that Janeway was being completely irrational.

“I guess it's something I'll never truly appreciate,” Janeway admitted finally. “Just as I don't believe anyone other than myself and my crew will truly understand what being stranded in the Delta Quadrant was like.”

Gretchen nodded soberly. “In any event,” she said, dragging the discussion back to the initial topic, “you need to understand how time slips away if one isn't careful, Kathryn. I was so happy to hear that you and Seven were taking time off to have children, but it can't stop there. You must be there for your family. Don't make the same mistakes your father and I did. It wasn't just a matter of Edward and I suffering because we were apart; you and Phoebe suffered greatly from your father's absence. We did our best, but there's no question that there were lasting repercussions with you girls that our choices were responsible for.”

Janeway nodded, feeling uncomfortable. “I'm trying very hard to be there for Annika, and I'm prepared to do the same for any children we have. I'm not going to let any child of mine feel the way that...” She trailed off uncertainly.

“That you felt growing up,” Gretchen finished for her unhappily.

Janeway felt her heart twinge at the sorrow in her mother's eyes, and she reached over, taking the older woman's hands in her own. “Momma, it's not like we had such a bad life. You were always here for Phoebe and me, and we grew up in a wonderful community. It gave us a firm foundation.”

Gretchen sighed. “At least, we got that much right. We didn't want to drag you all over the Federation, living in one station or planet after another, following your father around from post to post. It wouldn't have given him any more time with us, because of the sensitivity of his work, and it would have left the rest of us unsettled. I hope that you'll take that into account when you consider your next command.”

“I'm not going to leave my family behind, Mother,” Janeway objected mildly. “Besides, it's not like it was back then. Ships have been designed to allow for families, and I learned on Voyager that it can be done no matter what the circumstances, you can have a family and still thrive both professionally and personally.”

Gretchen smiled. “I'm glad, Kathryn. If any couple can make it work, it will be you and Annika.” She paused. “Your father truly regretted all the times he had lost with you.”

Janeway felt her throat close. “We spoke of it before ... just a month before he died.”

Gretchen abruptly withdrew her hand and got up, stalking about the kitchen like a tiger in a cage. Janeway was startled, staring at her mother, amazed by the sudden display of fury, and not understanding where it originated.

“I know about the conversation you had with him,” Gretchen snapped, and gradually Janeway became aware that it was herself who her mother was so angry with. “It should never have come to that. For you to have gone through your life believing that we weren't proud of you, that you weren't good enough—” Her voice cracked as she turned to look directly at Janeway. “That will always be our greatest shame, Kathryn. Your father never forgave himself for that. I know I'll never forgive myself for it.”

Janeway was embarrassed by the admission, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Mother, it wasn't that bad. I mean, you know how kids are. I developed an idea in my head, and it got blown all out of proportion. I let it control my life. That wasn't your fault.”

“Yes, Kathryn, it was. You were our responsibility and we failed you. We never realized how your drive to be the best and your desire for perfection was really a cry for attention from us. You needed us, and we never saw it. I hope you can forgive us—”

“Momma,” Janeway said, a little more forcefully than perhaps she needed to. “It's all right. There's nothing to forgive. It just ... it happened. It's in the past.”

Gretchen shook her head, her shoulders slumping as some of her animation drained away. “Just another case of letting time get away from us.” She looked very weary as she resumed her seat. “We thought we could have it all, but there was never enough time. Then your father took you up in that cursed fighter and all our chances were gone. He had no business being in that ship.”

The pain that struck Janeway then was much stronger, and for a few seconds, she had trouble breathing. “Momma, it was his job to test the Terra Nova. It had been through many flights, and what happened was just a fluke, solar wind shear—”

“It was an experimental prototype,” Gretchen responded hotly. “It wasn't an admiral's place to be flying it, and it certainly wasn't your place to be there with him.”

Janeway couldn't believe it. Her mother had never indicated any hint of such anger in front of her children. Did that mean Gretchen finally felt comfortable enough to share such thoughts and emotion with her, that she felt her eldest daughter was now mature enough to handle them? Was this a result of all those deeply personal and vulnerably open letters which Janeway had written to her mother, never believing they would be sent, only to have them transmitted during an unexpected contact with Starfleet before she could edit them? Was that why Gretchen was now treating Janeway as someone who was not just her daughter, but as someone she now considered an adult and possibly even a friend?

If so, Janeway would rather she didn't. The events that happened on that ice floe on Tau Ceti were still too painful for her, too shameful. She hadn't even spoken to Seven about what had really occurred so many years ago, burying the incident away from her conscious mind, keeping it locked tightly away until an alien encounter in the Delta Quadrant unsealed the door it was hidden behind. The recovered memory forced her to recognize the incident itself, but she hadn't achieved any kind of resolution with it despite her best efforts.

She found it hard to look at Gretchen and she turned her head, staring through the screen of the back door. “Mother, it was a long time ago. It's in the past.”

Gretchen looked at her, surprise ghosting over her face. Obviously, she had detected a note of something unusual in her daughter's voice and her eyes narrowed, but when she spoke, her voice was very gentle.

“Kathryn, it's all right to be angry with the situation that took away your father. It's perfectly natural, in fact. I realize that there's nothing that could have been done about it, nothing could have saved him or Justin, but I can still profoundly regret the circumstances that surrounded the incident.” She paused and offered a wan smile, obviously trying to ease the stark tension suddenly reverberating through the kitchen. “I can still curse Edward's bullheadedness that finally got him into a situation he couldn't get out of. You knew him as your father, Kathryn, but I knew him as the man I loved, and I'll be the first to admit that he had a certain arrogance that believed he was the best person for the job, even when, perhaps, it would have been better to let someone else handle it.”

Gretchen caught her breath, the lines on her face deepening slightly, and for a moment, Janeway had a sense of how much of a stranger her mother really was to her, how much this person had experienced in her life that Janeway was simply unaware of. Shocked, Kathryn abruptly understood how very little she knew about Gretchen as an individual, how little effort she had made to know her as a person with her own hopes and dreams, rather than always placing her in a nice, comfortable niche as being just her mother.

It shamed Janeway profoundly.

“I can even forgive him for it, because that arrogance and stubbornness were part of the reason I loved him so,” Gretchen continued softly. “But for taking you along, for almost getting you killed? That was something that took a lot longer for me to forgive. In some ways, it's possible that I never will. It was one thing to risk his own life. It was quite another to risk yours or that of your fiancé. Justin was a good man who deserved better than to die so young.”

Janeway wanted to weep. Or laugh hysterically. Her mother didn't know who was truly responsible for what happened. She took a deep breath, and blinked back the tears stinging her eyes.

“Momma, I know that you and Daddy loved each other,” she said, striving for a calmness in her voice that she was far from feeling. “I guess that's why I was a little upset about you and Commander Patterson. It came as such a surprise. It's not that I have anything against the man personally; in fact, I rather like him.”

By directing the discussion to an area where her thoughts would not be so dangerous, Janeway hoped it would divert her away from the dark feelings surrounding the incident on Tau Ceti. Compared to those devastating emotions, discovering that her mother was involved in a romantic relationship with a younger man now seemed to be quite inconsequential. She could barely remember why it had upset her in the first place.

Gretchen looked vaguely puzzled. “I'm glad, Kathryn. He really likes you and Annika a great deal, as well. In fact, he admires you greatly for your accomplishments in the Delta Quadrant. I'm sorry you didn't get a chance to know him better on your trip from DS9.”

Janeway bent her head. “That's my fault. I should have read your last letter, but I was so intent on making sure Seven was ready for life on Earth, that I didn't really understand I'd also have some adjustments to make. I guess there was a part of me that just believed everything would be the same as before I left, at least when it came to you. Now I see how selfish that was of me—”

Gretchen made a small sound of dismay. “Kathryn, don't,” she said, reaching over and grasping her daughter's hand tightly. “It's perfectly natural to assume such a thing. Certainly, if I hadn't met Michael, I would probably be living the same sort of life that I had prior to your being lost. Don't blame yourself for being human.” Her gaze grew more intent. “Kathryn, I want you to know that just because I have feelings for Michael, it doesn't mean I loved your father any less, any more than your loving Annika now means your feelings for Justin were any less than what they were.”

Janeway inhaled deeply. “I know, Momma.” She forced a smile. “I just want you to be happy. I want to know that Patterson is a good enough man to accomplish that for you.”

“He is,” Gretchen allowed, and her bright blue eyes seemed to glow with that sheen of happiness and new love. “Oh, Kathryn, it's so amazing when love appears out of the blue like this. No one could have predicted it, and I suppose, that's part of its miracle. Michael is such a wonderful person. He's kind and caring and treats me just like a queen. I'm his whole world.” Her smile grew a bit roughish. “He's also a very good lover.”

“Mother!” Janeway squeaked, outraged.

Gretchen laughed. “Honestly, Kathryn, I raised you as a Traditionalist, not a prude.”

Janeway eyed her mother with exasperation. “I doubt that you want to know how skilled Grammy Taylor finds her lovers to be.”

Gretchen immediately sobered, wincing slightly. “Touché, Kathryn. You're right.” She paused. “I'm sorry if we disturbed you last night. It was so late, I suppose we thought everyone else would be completely asleep and perhaps we forgot ourselves a bit in our,” she paused. “Um, enthusiasm. He had been away for a while.” Janeway felt herself blush, not knowing what to say to that, and Gretchen offered a rueful smile. “I certainly don't want my personal relationship to drive you and Annika out of the house.”

Janeway shook her head. “It's not that, Mother. The truth is, Annika and I would be more comfortable in our own space.”

Gretchen nodded, a wry smile touching her lips. “I suppose I can relate to that. Heaven knows, I'm quite self-conscious about you being just down the hall now, though it never crossed my mind last night. Maybe using the house in San Francisco until you build your own home here is exactly the right thing to do. That parcel of land near the pond you've always had your eye on has been cleared by the Park Commission for construction whenever you're ready.”

“Someday, Momma,” Janeway responded quietly. “There's never been any doubt in my mind about the fact that I would make my home here.” Despite everything else she might be feeling, a tender warmth spread through her as her mother reached over and hugged her tightly, Janeway returning the embrace readily.

“Go find Annika,” Gretchen suggested huskily, when she finally released her daughter. “I want to go down to the market later in the morning, and you two should come with me.”

“Seven will love the market.” Janeway offered a smile to her mother as she rose from her seat and slipped out the screen door, but it faded as she paused on the back porch, staring at Phoebe's house across the way. Jake and her sister's dogs were romping exuberantly on the lawn, and the two figures on the deck were visible, though partially obscured by trees. Chances were that Phoebe and Seven were having a grand time, and they certainly didn't need Janeway to show up in this mood to ruin their visit with each other.

Janeway suddenly found the thought of facing her sister unbearable, knowing what she had taken from her, and she bent her head as she descended the stairs. Walking quickly away from the houses, she began a desperate search for someplace isolated to regain the balance she had lost during her conversation with her mother.

Before someone looked in her face and discovered what she was trying to hide.

The tavern was cool and quiet and just the thing that B'Elanna needed to settle her rattled nerves. She accepted the ale, along with the spring water, from the bartender and carried them over to the table where Ro had found a seat. Ro regarded her somewhat sardonically as she took a seat.

“A little early in the day for this,” she noted, eyeing the ale, “but perhaps to be expected after that last apartment. Now, can we try my idea?”

“You were right, I was wrong,” B'Elanna granted, after taking a long, soothing pull from her bottle. “We should have tried the Utopia Planitia base housing from the start rather than try to find an apartment in Marsport. I just thought with what's usually issued to lieutenants, we could arrange a much better deal with something off the base. Plus, you know that despite all the tolerance the Federation claims to have, on a Human base like Utopia Planitia, a Klingon and a Bajoran aren't going get first choice at anything decent.”

“Unlike that last place we saw? What were those things moving in the bathtub, anyway?”

“I don't want to think about it.” B’Elanna barely restrained a shudder. “I thought Earth was so civilized.”

“This isn't Earth,” Ro reminded her. “Even after a century of terraforming, Mars is still very much a colony, not an independent planet. They still import too many necessities. Besides, the war affected everyone, and there are a lot of refugees remaining from worlds the Dominion conquered. They haven't gone back, either because they're scared it'll happen again or because they can't afford it. Right now, Marsport is bulging at the seams.”

“Do you want to try looking for a place back on Earth?”

“Let's try the base first. Even if we're lieutenants and not from this part of the quadrant, we might luck out and come up with something livable.”

“If you say so,” B’Elanna responded, not feeling particularly enthusiastic. She had vaguely hoped to return to the Janeway farmhouse where, after spending a lazy afternoon on the front porch, Gretchen would undoubtedly feed her another huge spread for supper. There was something to be said for a Traditional way of life, despite the lack of technological amenities.

She raised an eyebrow, astounded and pleased, as she saw a stocky, older man enter the bar, his light hair curly and thick. She stood up and motioned at him, trying to attract his attention. “O'Brien. Miles O'Brien. Come over here, we'll buy you a beer.”

She had met the chief on DS9 years earlier when she, Chakotay and Seven had been mysteriously transported to the station by a Bajoran orb they had discovered in the Delta Quadrant. She grew to know the operations officer well, recognizing a kindred spirit when it came to engineering. She still had the tools he had given her before the trio had been transported back to Voyager.

The man looked over, his face brightening into a smile, and it wasn't until he was near the table that the smile disappeared. He stopped, staring at Ro who offered him a guarded nod, and B'Elanna frowned, not knowing what was going on.

“O'Brien and I served together on the Enterprise,” Ro explained in a low tone as the man hesitantly resumed his approach, taking the seat B'Elanna shoved out for him.

“I heard Voyager was back,” he said to B’Elanna, slapping her on the arm. “I'm glad to see you again.” He dipped his head at Ro. “I admit, I'm sort of surprised to see you, uh, Lieutenant.”

“Long story,” Ro responded quietly. “But yes, I am back in Starfleet.”

O'Brien looked puzzled, and then seemed to shrug. “Well, all right then.” He signaled for a drink. “So, what are you doing here? Story has it that Voyager was picked clean of officers at DS9.”

“That's an exaggeration,” B'Elanna said, reaching for a new bottle of ale as the waiter deposited another round, as well as the padd to credit the tab. “But not by much. I'm posted at Utopia Planitia. Ro and I are up here trying to find some quarters before I report for duty on Tuesday.”

The rangy features of the chief creased in a smile. “That's great. I'm posted at Utopia Planitia as well.” He paused. “After the war, we came home to Earth and I taught at the Academy last year, but to be honest, it got a little boring. Just not enough hands-on. When an opening was made available on the team building the new Frontier-class, I jumped at it. Keiko's still working on Earth of course, so I commute.”

“We may have to do that as well.”

He studied her curiously. “Are you working at the shipyards, too?” B'Elanna wasn't sure if Miles liked that idea or not. There certainly seemed to be a history there, and she made a note to dig it out of her lover when she had the opportunity.

“I've accepted an assignment under Captain Janeway's personal command. I'll be performing the roll of her adjunct wherever she's posted.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Then you'll be at Utopia Planitia,” he informed them casually. “Rumor has it that she's next in line to be the base liaison when Commander Krause leaves.”

The two women stared at him in astonishment, and he looked vaguely defensive. “It's just what I heard. I'm not saying it's true.”

B'Elanna shook her head. “That can't be right. Janeway hasn't made up her mind where she's going yet. Besides, becoming commander of the shipyards, after having been a starship captain, is a hell of a demotion, don't you think?”

He shrugged. “It's the buzz around the water cooler.”

“Why would Starfleet even offer her such a position?” Ro asked thoughtfully, almost to herself. “Are they punishing her in some way?”

O'Brien snorted. “Hardly. Word's out that Nechayev has her tagged for command of the USS Millennium.” Again, both women stared at him, and he sighed. “That's the new type of vessel they're developing. It's been on the drawing boards for years, and they just started to build it before the war. Construction was delayed for the duration of the conflict with the Dominion, but now they're going full steam ahead with it again. It's a new design, meant for lengthy deep space missions. I guess with Janeway's background, the admiral figures she's the best choice for the command.”

“What if Janeway doesn't want to go back out on a deep space mission?” Ro asked grimly.

He looked back and forth between them. “I don't see what the problem is,” he said, obviously baffled by their decided lack of enthusiasm. “There are captains who would give up certain body parts to be awarded that ship. It's absolutely state-of-the-art, and there's talk of it having two drives; the traditional warp and some new type that is completely experimental.”

“Slipstream,” B'Elanna said.

He frowned. “Huh? Never heard of it.” He paused. “But then, we haven't really started on the internal systems yet.”

“You'll probably hear of it before too long.” She exhaled. “It seems that Starfleet has everything planned out nicely.”

“You've been out of the loop awhile, Lt. Torres. You'll get back in it quickly enough when you start work at the shipyards. We find out everything before anyone else does.” He drained his beer and granted the two officers a smile. “Take it easy. I'll see you on Tuesday, B'Elanna. Thanks for the drink, ladies.”

He got up and left the bar, leaving the women staring after him.

“Is it just me, or did that seem sort of weird to you, too?” B'Elanna asked quietly, after a few moments of silence.

“Maybe,” Ro said slowly. “I hate to sound paranoid, but I'm wondering if there's some reason for us to be receiving all that information.”

B'Elanna looked at her lover. “What do you mean?”

“I don't doubt that O'Brien is working at Utopia Planitia right now...” Ro allowed slowly, almost as if she were figuring something out. Then, she suddenly offered B'Elanna a bright, and rather false smile. “It doesn't really matter. Let's go check out some more apartments.”

B’Elanna was surprised by the abrupt change in Ro, but obediently got up from the table and followed her out into the street, the sun a little hard on her eyes after the dimness of the bar. As Ro led them to a crowded walkway, B'Elanna finally figured out that she was looking for someplace where they could talk freely. B’Elanna remained quiet as they moved along the strip until they came to an outdoor coffee shop. With the lunch rush yet to begin, they easily found an isolated table near the railing.

“What's going on?” B'Elanna asked, once the waitress had delivered their order: a few pastries to take the edge off their hunger, along with some iced raktajino. Both Ro and B'Elanna were fond of the freshly brewed version of B’Elanna coffee which had become very popular in the Federation in recent decades, but couldn't stand the replicated version. “I know you made us leave the bar because you thought it was monitored.”

“It's just that O'Brien isn't someone who just works in starship operations,” Ro explained, “He's also been known to do certain missions for Starfleet Intelligence.”

B'Elanna felt weak. “You think he's with Section 31?”

Ro shook her head. “He was one of the officer who helped bring it to Picard's attention. The question is, why do we have this information suddenly? Are we supposed to warn Janeway off so that she refuses to accept such a position, or is Utopia Planitia where she should be, and we should do all we can to encourage that?”

“Kahless, that's some choice,” B’Elanna said, chewing on her Danish. “Make the wrong one, and we could be doing Section 31's work for them.”

Ro considered the situation carefully as she sipped her cool drink. “I think we should try to encourage Janeway to take it. Remember what Miles said about this new vessel being a desirable command to a lot of captains? Maybe the trick is to get Janeway in there and prevent some other captain from getting it.” She paused. “It might be interesting to find out who those other command choices are, and which admirals are pushing them.”

B'Elanna exhaled. “This is becoming really complicated.”

“Or maybe it's starting to simplify,” Ro allowed. “Look at it this way, Janeway, you, and I will all be at Utopia Planitia, working on that new ship. Chances are, if that new drive he mentioned is some form of slipstream, who else would be working on it?”

“The Theoretical Propulsion Group,” B'Elanna said slowly. “Dr. Brahms, who offered Seven a position on her team almost before we knew if the slipstream drive would work or not.” She finished the sentence in a rush, triumph lighting her eyes.

Ro raised an eyebrow. “I think that Janeway and Seven are being manipulated into a position where they can be the most useful. I'm just not sure who's doing most of the manipulating. Our side, or theirs?”

B'Elanna seemed to think about it, then shrugged. “One thing at a time. Let's find a place to live, then we'll worry about who's manipulating whom.”

Ro glanced at her, then smiled. “That's probably the best idea of all.” She dropped her thumbprint on the padd presented by the waitress, and followed B'Elanna to the nearby transport station where they caught a tube to the outskirts of Marsport.

The Utopia Planitia base was located near the crater of the same name. Of course, the deep depression was now a lake filled with crystal clear water, bordered by luxurious houses and providing the inhabitants with the opportunity for boating, swimming and a variety of water sports. Junior officers like lieutenants were, of course, traditionally housed in the apartment complexes near the central command, making it difficult to avail themselves of the amenities that the highest ranks enjoyed, but it still provided a picturesque landscape in which to work and live. Ro was aware that many higher ranked officers in Starfleet Command were known to maintain vacation homes on the lakeside area of the base, even when they weren't officially posted there.

After checking in with the duty officer at the gate, they found their way to the Housing Authority where a rugged veteran of Starfleet's Supply and Services Department had them fill out an application. He took a few minutes to read it over, and then pointed them at a hovercraft, obviously being a man of few words, which he used to transport them to the lakefront. When they entered the comfortable three-bedroom house, B'Elanna thought some sort of mistake had been made. Both women looked at him with growing suspicion. After seven years on a starship, this was practically a mansion, and the large deck that overlooked the wide lawn sloping down to the red sand beach did little to dispel that impression. In the back yard, there was even a small flower garden situated next to a tennis court.

“You do know we're both lieutenants,” Ro said, taking another glance around the spacious living room with its polished oak floor. It was already furnished with a sofa and chairs, covered in neutral-colored fabric to facilitate further decorating.

“I know what two pips stand for,” he responded laconically.

B'Elanna was more straightforward. “What the hell's wrong with it?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest, her chin stuck out pugnaciously.

That's when he cracked a smile and started to laugh. “Not a thing. Furthermore, I'm old enough to know why that's so funny. I remember the base housing I had when I was a lieutenant. I mean, it was clean, but so small that if I belched, the guy two doors down said 'excuse me'. Being on a starship was like winning a fortune at the dabo table, the quarters were so big.”

“Maybe I'm not understanding something here,” Ro said with rising annoyance in her eyes. “We're just in from Voyager—”

He held up a hand, grinning at her. “I read the application, which is why I played it this way. Not much opportunity for amusement in my line of work. I'll admit that before the war, this was considered family quarters for a command level officer, no question about that. The thing to remember is that we just don't have the same amount of administrative personnel housed on Mars that we once did, nor do we get the steady influx of pre-graduation cadets for training. Not long after the war started, new security measures were instituted that prevent personnel from accessing any Starfleet facilities unless they or their family members are posted to those facilities. In other words, no more honorary administrative positions awarded to senior officers to have a vacation home on Lake Utopia. We don't even need to use the apartment complexes anymore.”

Ro and B'Elanna exchanged a glance. It was another sharp reminder of how the war had altered Starfleet in recent years, but at least this time, the repercussions seemed somewhat beneficial. “You're serious?” B'Elanna asked, almost afraid to believe it. “We can have this house all to ourselves?”

He shrugged. “If it suits you. I have several more with lake frontage I can show you, but personally, I think this one has the best view, and because it's on the end of the access lane, it's quieter than most.”

“This one is fine,” Ro said quickly. B'Elanna nodded dumbly in agreement.

He grinned again and held out a padd for B’Elanna's thumbprint since B'Elanna was the officer signing for it. “You can requisition any necessary household goods, like additional furniture, from the auxiliary supply depot just down the road, next to the community's Officer's Club,” he said, jerking his thumb in a general westward direction. “An air tram makes regular stops throughout the day to transport officers to the central complex and if there are any problems, you can just call the Housing Authority. The office is open until 1700 hours, but you can leave a message with the computer. If it's an emergency, we can usually get a maintenance crew out here within the hour. The groundskeeper comes by on Wednesdays to mow the lawn and maintain the garden. If you want to do that yourself, you have to make arrangements with him so he can skip your place. The difference in expense will be credited to your account at the Officer's Club.” He pointed out the glass doors where a dock jutted out into the shimmering lake. “You can even requisition a private sailboat if you'd like, but there's a deduction in your monthly credit allowance for private berth fees and maintenance, which can add up quickly. It isn't worth it unless you're really into boating. You can rent one from the civilian Marina at a far more reasonable rate, and return it when you're done.”

“Thanks,” B'Elanna managed, still in a state of disbelief. He waved a casual good-bye and strode down the walk, where he hopped into the hovercraft, and disappeared down the road. She turned and looked at Ro who appeared greatly bemused.

“I've never lived in a house before,” Ro offered quietly, looking at the view out the back doors.

B’Elanna shook her head. “I have, but not like this,” she responded, a slight catch in her voice. She straightened her shoulders, embarrassed to be so emotional over a house of all things. “Maybe this won't be such a bad posting for us after all.”

Ro flashed her a grin. “Why don't we slip down to that supply depot and pick up what we need? I think I'd like to sleep here tonight.” Her eyes traced over the compact form of B’Elanna with intimate provocation and B’Elanna feeling her pulse rate jump perceptibly.

“Sounds like a good idea,” B'Elanna replied.

“A really good idea.”

Seven of Nine frowned as she saw her partner cut across the lawns toward the large cornfield in the distance. She and Phoebe had returned to the upper deck, and while Phoebe finished her painting, Seven leaned back on the bench, enjoying the sunshine and the rare pleasure of being outdoors. When Kathryn suddenly appeared on the back porch of the main house, Seven fully expected her to immediately come across to join them, but instead, Janeway simply gazed in their direction for a long time before her head and shoulders slumped and she went off in another direction entirely.

“Phoebe,” Seven said, promptly standing up. “I need to leave now.”

Surprised, Phoebe looked at her. “Okay,” she said, somewhat doubtfully. She offered a rueful grin. “I know I'm not the best hostess—”

“It is not you,” Seven assured her abruptly as she turned and rapidly descended the wooden stairs. Janeway had disappeared by the time she reached the bottom, but Seven suspected she knew where she was headed, and set a brisk pace that Petunia didn't even bother to follow. Crossing the lawn, Seven plunged into the large expanse of corn that spread in a sea of green over the landscape.

Moving through the cool, green plants, Seven could not see much of anything, the leafy stalks rising much higher than her head. It was like moving through an extremely regimented jungle, and frequently she had to stop and regain her bearings by utilizing her ocular implant, just as she had the night before when her partner had dashed from the house so heedlessly, upset by the sounds of her mother's romantic activities with Commander Patterson.

After several moments, she abruptly exited the field, the dividing line between the corn and the grassy meadow sharply defined by a drainage ditch. She stepped lightly across it and looked toward the end of the meadow where it sloped down into a small hollow. Located there was a pond, cool and peaceful, surrounded by the grand forms of weeping willows. Their long branches trailed gracefully on the ground and into the still water itself, obscuring what might be sheltered beneath any one of them. Green circles of lily pads dotted the water, while at the far end, a few ducks glided passively in the reeds. Seven raised her head, her eyes keenly sweeping the area. A command to her cranial implant altered the view in her left eye, allowing her to see in the infrared spectrum, and she immediately spotted a Human-sized blob glowing red-orange beneath the largest tree.

She took a breath and resumed her normal vision, crossing the meadow and pushing through the willow branches to discover her partner sitting on the hard ground, her back against the tree's rough trunk. Janeway's knees were drawn up, her arms wrapped tightly around them, almost as if she were cold. Her eyes were a disturbingly blank grey, and her face seemed devoid of any expression that Seven could readily identify.

“Kathryn?” Seven offered, surprised when she didn’t acknowledge her arrival.

Her eyes widened when Janeway continued to stare straight ahead.

“Kathryn,” she tried again. “What's wrong?”

Again, no response, and Seven felt uncertain, unsure of what to do next. Kneeling beside Janeway, she touched her on the shoulder. “Kathryn? Do you wish to be alone?”

Janeway leaned away from her, not a rejection necessarily, but almost a flinch, as if Seven's touch hurt her in some way. Seven was becoming a little frightened. “Kathryn, please, speak to me.”

Janeway shook her head minutely, barely moving it, and Seven took a deep breath, trying to control her fears. Janeway obviously needed her, and she could not let her uncertainty overwhelm her. She especially could not allow it to prevent her from doing what was needed to reach through this sudden withdrawal by Janeway. In some ways, it reminded Seven of the way Janeway deliberately put distance between herself and everyone else during certain, emotionally stressful times on Voyager, isolating herself in her quarters or her ready room, away from those who might try to help her. This seemed a far more acute and powerful withdrawal, a mental distancing that was more disturbing than a physical one. In the past, Seven had learned to bridge such self-imposed isolations, and she was determined that she would bridge this one. It would simply require patience and the reassurance to Kathryn that she was not alone, that she had someone who cared for her and whom she could trust absolutely.

Carefully, as if dealing with an easily startled animal, Seven eased onto the ground next to Janeway, pulling her onto her lap as she leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “Kathryn, I am here,” she told her softly. “I am not going anywhere, and you cannot push me away. I will remain here until we have dealt with this.”

Silence stretched between them, but Seven did not move, nor did she say anything else. She just waited patiently, holding her spouse close and keeping her warm, making sure Kathryn had a physical awareness of her even if she didn't want to acknowledge her consciously.

“I...” Janeway whispered finally, her voice cracked. “You don't know...”

“I do not know what?” Seven asked gently. “Tell me, Kathryn.”

“I ... I can't.”

“You can tell me anything,” Seven said positively, with complete confidence.

“Not this.”

Seven hesitated. Janeway had, in the past, occasionally refused to tell her things, though Seven inevitably discovered them, either by being firm or teasing them out of her partner, but she sensed that this instance was different in some way. This was not a case where Janeway was hiding something for Seven's sake. Instead, it was almost as if Kathryn was afraid to tell her, as if the consequences would be so dire, it would damage them both far more than how Janeway was feeling now. Could this withdrawal spring from the discussion Kathryn had shared with her mother? Seven drew her fingers lightly up and down Kathryn's back through the thin shirt, suddenly aware of how small her partner felt in her arms.

“Kathryn, I am Borg,” she said finally, not knowing if what she was saying was correct or not, but sensing that she had to find some way to reach Janeway, to show her that it was all right to confide in her. “During my time in the Collective, I assisted in the assimilation of many beings, including children, bringing an end to their existence as they knew it.” She faltered, this reality still somewhat hard for her to acknowledge at times, particularly here, on such a lush, green world that was the antithesis of the sterile coldness that was Seven. “I comprehend that I was not entirely responsible, that I was unable to make any other choices at the time, but that does not ease the sense of accountability I sometimes feel for my actions.”

She brushed her cheek against the cool skin of Janeway's cheek. “Despite that, however, you loved and accepted me completely,” she concluded carefully. “I do not know what it is that so troubles you now, but you must know that I offer you the same unconditional acceptance and love you give me. Nothing will ever change that.”

“You can't say that,” Janeway responded huskily. “You don't know...”

“I do know that,” Seven responded with absolute assurance. “You can tell me anything, Kathryn.”

“I killed my father.”

The words were stark, wrung from some deep, dark part of Janeway's soul, flung out of her in a paroxysm of an agony so deep, it seemed impossible that she had survived it.

Seven was careful not to reply too quickly.

“Explain,” she asked finally, in a perfectly even tone. It was not colored by surprise or judgment, simply a request for information. For several minutes, she didn't think that Janeway would reply at all, before finally, she began to speak in a painful, halting voice.

“Daddy, Justin and I were testing the Terra Nova. It was a prototype craft that Daddy had designed for the conflict with the Cardassians. It was just a routine flight, one which had been done several times before. I don't know exactly what went wrong. There was no warning, no hint of danger. I think Justin said something about wind shear, but it happened so quickly. We crashed, and when I regained consciousness, I could see this ... this black iceberg in the water.” She paused, breathing harshly, her eyes not staring at the green cocoon of the willow branches surrounding them, but at the white bitterness on that ice floe so long ago. “The ship had come apart, and it was the front part of the fuselage I was looking at. Through the viewport of the cockpit, I could see Daddy and Justin. They were hurt, but they were still alive. In the part of the cabin I had ridden down, there was a computer station that still had power in it. I cobbled together some circuits until I had a makeshift transporter that could make a site-to-site transport. While I was altering the console, the cockpit was sinking into the water.”

She stopped and Seven tightened her embrace, completely supportive. “Go on,” she prompted softly.

The silence lasted so long, Seven had thought she had lost her chance to reach her, but finally Janeway continued, speaking in a flat intonation, almost as if the technical assessment of the situation was the only way she could approach it. “Two emergency microfusion generators were still online,” she recited. “I routed them to the primary energizing coils and brought the targeting scanners online. They refused to lock on. The annular confinement beam was too unstable to hold two bodies in the spatial matrix. I had enough power and time to transport only one person. Not two. Only one.”

Seven felt the blood drain from her face, abruptly comprehending the terrible choice her partner had been forced to face on that ice floe. She had never told Kathryn that once she had made an effort to discover what official logs pertaining to that event were contained in Voyager's databanks, wanting to understand her partner's obvious reluctance to discuss her father's death. But all Seven found was a Starfleet medical report that had listed, in dry detail, all the injuries Janeway had suffered in the crash: the fractured leg, the cracked ribs, the concussion, numerous cuts and contusions, the ruptured spleen. During the actions Kathryn now related, she would have been sliding into shock, operating purely on training and sheer will as the wickedly icy atmosphere drained the heat from her body with every passing second.

“I had to choose which one would live and which one would die,” Janeway whispered, each word a shard of pure agony, just as every breath must have been on that terrible day. “How could I do that? How could I save the man I loved and let my father die? How could I go on knowing that I had sacrificed Justin to let my father live?”

Seven closed her eyes, hurting profoundly for her beloved Kathryn.

“What happened next?”

“I refused to accept either option,” Janeway whispered. “I tapped into the capacitors, rerouting the power through the phaser couplings that would have boosted the annular confinement beam up to eight hundred megawatts, allowing me to transport both. I only needed enough power to make one transport. By the time it was ready, the fuselage had sunk beneath the ocean and I ... I couldn't get a lock. No matter what I did ... no matter how hard I tried ... they just wouldn't transport.”

She shuddered abruptly in Seven's arms, reliving the horror.

“Because I couldn't choose which one to save, I lost them both,” she said, her voice lost and whip-thin. “I failed. I failed Justin. I failed Daddy. I failed in my duty as a Starfleet officer.”

Seven flinched. How many times had she flung the words 'you will fail' in Janeway's face, unaware of how deeply and cruelly the phrase must have cut, not realizing that she could not have chosen any harsher assessment of her partner had she deliberately set out to do so.

“You did all you could.”

“No,” Janeway said, and now her tone was as cold as the air must have been on that day, keen with self-loathing. “I should have saved Daddy. He was the superior officer who held a more vital role in the Federation. He also had a wife and another daughter who needed him. I loved Justin, but he had no family. I was the only one who would have mourned his loss, but I wasn't courageous enough to accept that future. I failed to make the correct choice.”

“There was no correct choice,” Seven told her firmly. “Making such a decision now is something you have managed only after time has granted you a distance from the event, and after command experience has given you the conceit that you could weigh one life against another. Ultimately, you are deluding yourself, Kathryn. You do not give up on life. If the same event happened today, you would still do the same thing, and try to save them both. It is certainly not a decision you could have made under those circumstances and at that time in your existence. You are being too demanding of yourself.”

“I was arrogant, Annika,” Janeway whispered. “I thought I could face any challenge, defeat any obstacle—”

“You were young, and in pain and doing exactly what your mind and heart told you,” Seven told her. “You did not kill your father, Kathryn. It was an accident. You did everything you could to save him.”

Janeway closed her eyes, an expression of pain slashing across her face. “How can I tell mother? I cost her the man she loved. I cost Phoebe her father.”

“No,” Seven insisted, seeking the right words to reach Janeway, wanting to make her see that this secret she had been carrying for so long was a burden she did not have to accept. Suddenly, all of Kathryn's descents into despair, all those bouts with paralyzing guilt, made sense to Seven. It was not her command or her ship that ate away at Janeway's sense of self. It was this, a secret hell she had hidden away for so long that perhaps even she did not realize where all the lingering feelings of shame originated. Every incident that caused the slightest doubt in her abilities inevitably drew it to the surface, making difficult professional incidents personally devastating to the starship captain.

“I never told anyone,” Janeway whispered. “I never explained that I could have saved one of them if only I had the courage to make a choice.”

Seven brushed her lips over Kathryn's forehead. “It was not a choice you could make, Kathryn,” she repeated, hoping that if she said it enough times, it would somehow filter through the pain. “Any more than it is a decision you could make now, if you had to choose between me and your mother.”

“You must hate me,” Janeway said in a very small voice. “They will all hate me.”

“You are my Kathryn,” Seven said, holding her close. “I would never hate you. Indeed, I would take this hurt from you and suffer it myself if I could. No one else will hate you, either, least of all your mother or Phoebe. They love you just as I love you. Completely, with all our hearts.”

That's when Janeway began to cry, and she cried until she couldn't breathe, and then she cried some more until Seven became concerned that she would have to slap her or do something equally as drastic and unpleasant to get her to stop. It seemed to take forever before the tears and the sobbing finally ceased, and Seven maintained her embrace throughout, murmuring words of comfort until her voice grew raspy and she had to stop. Then, she just held Janeway as tightly and as lovingly as she knew how to hold her. For a long time afterward, they huddled beneath the tree, Seven listening to Kathryn breathe, stroking her hair, and rocking her gently in her arms. This was such a huge thing that Janeway had finally been able to relate to her, and Seven hoped that, with the confiding, Janeway would be able to find some measure of peace. She had a sense, vague though it was, of how far Janeway had to come to reach a place where she could speak of this incident with her, something that perhaps a younger Seven wouldn't have understood earlier in their relationship. Seven was grateful that she had grown enough to appreciate the depth of this incredibly difficult and delicate sharing.

“I have to tell Mother,” Janeway said finally.

Seven kissed her temple. “Yes,” she agreed, hurting for her partner, but incredibly proud of her courage at the same time. “It is a burden you have carried for too long, Kathryn. Trust in her as you trust in me.”

Janeway shivered and dropped her head to Seven's shoulder, clinging to her partner within the cool shadows of the tree. Seven hugged her tightly, conscious suddenly of the foliage that surrounded and hid them from outside eyes. The fragrance in this private place was of dusky herbs and the fresh, earthy scent of loam, granting her a sense of peace. She thought she understood why Kathryn continued to choose this place in which to find sanctuary, even against her own internal thoughts and fears. There was a certain amount of irony in this situation. Since returning to Earth, it had been Janeway who had experienced the more difficult time, had been faced with the more emotional challenges. Despite that, however, there was a sense of home here that she knew was very important to Janeway, and if Seven were to be completely honest with herself, it was something she desired as well.

“Annika?”

“Yes, Kathryn,” Seven responded.

“I'm so frightened. What if Mother can't understand?”

“She will.” Seven placed her forefinger under Janeway’s chin and raised her face so that she could consider the stormy grey eyes. “You are not alone, Kathryn. I will remain with you when you speak with Gretchen.”

She brushed her lips over Janeway's, a promise and a reassurance.

“It will be all right, Kathryn. I am here for you. I will always be here for you.”