A BEGINNING, A MIDDLE, AND A PROPER END

Voyager Vortex One

"Don't you think it's a just a little bit tacky to wear your medal to the party?"

"Heck, it's the only medal Starfleet'll ever give me--I'm gonna get some mileage out of it--"

"Did you hear about the latest guy who wants to write a book about us? This one's researching crew dynamics under long-term stress."

"How many books about us does that make? Eight? Ten?"

"So far. Did you hear they gave Nishimura the key to her city?"

"I wouldn't want the key to my city. They've let too many more people join the colony. I couldn't wait to get back into space--"

"They're teaching math a whole new way now. I can't help my children without confusing them."

"My kids are beyond needing help with math. I missed so much of their childhood-- I guess I'll have to wait for the grandchildren."

"My kids are feeling very superior because they know seven years of Federation history that I don't. That damn war--everybody's so paranoid! I'm really tired of having to give a password and a DNA sample just to use a public loo."

"Shapeshifters will do that to you. Remember Species 8472?"

"Oh, they turned out to be pussycats. Remember the time Kelliser's Meski bats got loose and we had to go on security alert until we found them all? And then they started to reproduce? Madre de Dios, what a stench!"

"And when those weird spongy plants kept kissing everybody in the botany lab?"

"Remember when Chakotay sent me to Jeffries panel 127 every day for a month to check for faulty relays? It's the most inaccessible panel on the whole ship--no access port nearer than fifty feet of tube plus two ladders--I practically got a concussion from hitting my head sixteen times a day. You know, I was positive he was faking that glitch to get me back for decking him on the bridge, but I couldn't ever prove it. And come to think of it, it was around that time that every system in my quarters got the hiccups. The replicator would burn my pizza just when I was out of rations, or the sonic shower would develop a feedback loop when I already had a headache."

"Decking him on the bridge was only the last straw--you were a thorn in his side for weeks. You're lucky that's all he did to you--remember when he flattened Dalby in the mess hall?"

"Given a choice I'd have taken the broken nose. Wait a minute--you knew? Why didn't you tell me?"

"The Maquis stick together. You fooled me, too--remember? --No, sweetheart--you can't have champagne until you're at least thirty--"

"Betrayed by my own wife-to-be. Dad, help me out here--I need an ally! Well, all I can say is, Chakotay had better look out at the next reunion--"

"Here, Captain, have another glass--"

"I will not sing with your combo, Lieutenant Kim, no matter how much liquid courage you pour down my throat. My father was the only Janeway who could sing better than a frog in heat. Go find the Doctor."

"Are you kidding? It took me an hour to get him off the stage--"

Voyager Vortex One, organized by Harry Kim and the Delaney twins, with Reg Barclay serving as their San Francisco liaison, had commenced at noon and looked now, as the setting sun made coral-and-rose clouds of the fog over the Golden Gate Bridge, to continue straight through the next night's banquet without a pause. All but one or two of Janeway's favorites had arrived. Tuvok was conversing in Vulcan with Ensign Vorik about, they said, some untranslatable concept in metaphysical logic; Tom and B'Elanna were showing off a very restless year-old daughter and the design specs for their newest shuttlecraft; Harry was showing off his lieutenant's pips, Janeway having promoted him and several other ensigns as higher-ranking crew members began to leave the ship; and the Doctor was simply showing off, while snapping holo-images of everyone in sight. A hundred and fifty crew members plus guests made for a huge crowd, and she wandered among them happily, stopping every few feet to reminisce and be introduced to assorted spouses, partners, children, a few siblings and parents, and even Barclay's fluffy white cat, whom he had very sweetly christened Neelix. The original of that name would be joining them via a special link with Starfleet's transgalactic communicator, for eleven minutes on each day of the reunion. He would, she was certain, have something to say about the limited variety of comestibles on the buffet table.

She knew them all so well, far better than any other captain knew his or her crew, far better than she would ever know another. They had led richer lives than was usual aboard ship, Voyager serving not merely as their vessel but as their community, their home. Shore leave being rare and brief, and new pastimes and topics of conversation at a premium, crew members had formed bands, written holonovels, put on plays, staged sports and trivia tournaments. Most had pursued at least one hobby, taking up in earnest activities that ordinarily would have been just passing interests, and had shared their projects with their shipmates. They had created tapestries, wood carvings, sculptures of clay and metal and stone and light, novels and poetry and symphonies--a revealing of themselves through art and craft that most crews, and most captains, never knew. They had supported each other through bad times, as well, even more than on most ships, through illness and loss, and even through the sorts of transgressions that in ordinary circumstances might have required crew members to transfer to other vessels, might have damaged or destroyed friendships. They had all learned to forgive, and she could even speak cordially, more so than ever before, to the five Equinox crewmen and their families, all of whom were wary at first but relaxed more and more as the hours passed. Discharged from Starfleet in disgrace, they were currently at loose ends, but they had earned the right to be here by serving Voyager honorably and by accepting their punishment, even welcoming it, with humility. She could admire their courage in attending, and she was glad to see knots of their former shipmates collecting around them. For all that she woke each morning thankful to be home, thankful to be able to talk with her mother and sister and friends with just the touch of a comm button, she missed that closeness, that familiarity. She tried to foster something of that feeling among her current crew, about three-quarters of whom were new to her, and she was aware that many of them thought her intrusive. She would never wish upon them what Voyager's previous crew had endured, but at the same time she knew that that crew, and their captain, had lived more fully because of it.

And there, just inside the door shrugging off his jacket, was Chakotay. He caught sight of her as she started toward him, and broke away from the group of Maquis about to surround him. They met halfway and threw their arms about each other, she trying not to douse them in champagne, he doing his best to keep them from toppling into the hors d'oeuvres.

"Oof--I knew you were the bear type!"

He laughed and released her. "Sorry--but I could say the same about you. I need the Doctor to check my ribs."

She patted his stomach. "They have a little more padding than when I saw you last."

"Not enough exercise, and Icheb has developed a passion for exploring San Francisco's restaurants whenever he gets a few hours away from classes. The banquet caterers had better beware; he's coming straight here from a training exercise, and he'll be hungry."

"We'll lay on an extra table or three just for the teenaged boys. How's he doing?"

"First in his class--hardly a surprise--and he's madly in love with a nice girl from Jakarta named Dewi, who's even more serious than he is. Seven's very proud of him, and rightly so. --I've been watching for you--where were you earlier?"

"Oh!--you wouldn't believe it. I've been staying a couple of days with my sister. First the shuttle from Indianapolis was late taking off. Then it had trouble with a nacelle, so we were traveling at about half-speed. And then we had to take the seasonal flight paths around the nesting grounds of about ten different species of duck. But at last we limped in, and here I am, battered but unbowed."

"And I am delighted. Can you talk a while or do you need to mingle?"

"I've mingled a good bit already. Get yourself a glass of bubbly--you promised to have some with me--" They found a table in a quiet corner well away from the reunited Kimtones quartet and the packed dance floor. "I swear you've gotten handsomer." She'd always liked the warm golden brown of his skin, the flash of white teeth, the distinctive shape of his ears, the crook in his nose. It didn't surprise her that he'd never bothered to have the old break repaired, though he was vain enough to color the gray from his hair. Well, so am I--

"And you are more beautiful than ever," he responded, taking his proper cue, easily matching her light, casual mood as if they had traded similar compliments only the day before. "Homecoming must agree with you."

"It's trying to. Where have you been?"

"I was seeing Seven home. She has an early meeting tomorrow, and needs to regenerate. As usual, she's been putting it off."

"A meeting during our reunion? That's too bad."

"This one's with a Deltan engineer who wants to have a close look at her neural implants, and between his schedule and hers, tomorrow is the only day they both had free for another couple of months. And Seven isn't as sentimental as the rest of us--forty-eight hours of intensive socializing would probably cause a synaptic overload. She'll be back for the banquet tomorrow night, though--she's really looking forward to seeing you."

"I can't wait to see her--we haven't talked in a month or so. How is she?"

"It's taking time, but she's learning to fit in here. I think one day she'll want to be back on a deep space vessel, but for now she wants to master Earth, and she's doing a terrific job. --I'll admit that I don't get to see her as often as I'd like. She's in great demand, you know--politicians and diplomats and teachers and students and scientists all want to talk to her and examine her and question her on every topic you can think of. Brain specialists are interested in her memory capacity and how she processes information, eye specialists in her ocular implant, engineers and doctors in her nanoprobes, and of course she's the primary resource of anyone working on the Borg, adapting their technology or trying to replicate Icheb's pathogen--it's endless. And to most of them she's nothing more than a--a specimen--" He sighed. "Sorry. I tend to get worked up about this. I wish she could learn to say no now and then--she's entitled to a life."

"It's difficult to say no when you feel you owe a debt of atonement."

"True. It doesn't help that she's started to dream, and sometimes the dreams are nightmares. But I wish I could convince her that she should give herself a break and spend some time at home."

"You sound like Mark in his more candid moments. He never liked the long separations."

"Not liking them isn't the same as not understanding that they're necessary. A long-distance relationship can work fine, if your connection is strong enough when you're apart that it feels as if no time has passed when you get back together. But we always have to get used to each other again. It would be easier if I could go with her more often, but I'm tied up with my classes and my work with Sveda, and Seven doesn't like to feel too dependent on me--" He stopped abruptly and his expression closed down, as if he felt he might have said too much. "Sorry again--I didn't mean to turn you into a counselor."

"I'm the one who brought it up. Keep trying, Chakotay--she needs you."

He smiled. "She's got me." With gentle sympathy he added, "Have you seen Mark?"

"Yes. It was awkward, and very painful--but necessary."

"Did you meet his wife?"

"Yes. That was also awkward and painful and necessary. But I liked her. She'll be good for him--better than I was. He always felt he came second to my work, and there was some truth to that."

"No bitterness?"

"No." With a fingertip she traced the etching on the champagne flute. "But a certain wistfulness, definitely."

"Probably for him, too."

"Probably." Suddenly she smiled. "They still have Molly, and I'd swear she remembered me a little. They've bred her one last time and they offered me one of the puppies, but I'm too unsettled right now--" Her voice trailed off.

"And maybe that would be too constant a reminder?"

She nodded slowly. "I think maybe so." She peered into the mug he had obtained from a passing waiter. "Are you still drinking coffee that doesn't deserve the name?"

"I'll have you know this is Klingon coffee. B'Elanna provided it."

She snorted. "Dishwater."

"One of these days I'll take you to my brother-in-law's coffee mill in Lima. What he produces is coffee, not industrial-strength caffeine pellets."

"I'd enjoy that--I've never been to a coffee mill."

"So what's your daily intake these days?"

She grimaced. "About a gallon."

"I did hear that you've been butting heads with the duty-crazed bureaucrats."

"Don't get me started. By another year I'll be on blood-pressure medication."

"When are you going to learn that a good game of velocity will do more for you than any chemical?"

"You and Seven were the only ones who could give me a good game. Maybe I'll try your boxing program. I'll knock out a different admiral every time I run it."

He laughed. "How about meditation?"

"I haven't sought my animal guide in so long it probably wouldn't talk to me. 'Find your own way,' it would say." She flagged down a waiter and procured her own mug of coffee and the pot as well. "I feel as if I'm on a leash, dragged here and there by the brass to make speeches, or look heroic and resourceful on daises where other people are making speeches. I don't want to be a celebrity--I want to be a starship captain allowed to do my job."

"Just tell yourself that fame is fleeting."

"Good point--but that isn't the only thing I have to complain about. Even if they didn't trot me out like a performing poodle, it's only been the past two months that Voyager's been assigned any missions farther away than spitting distance. We didn't get out of space dock for three months. I've still got designers breathing down my neck, and Engineering and Astrometrics are crawling with scientists and technicians. For seven years I longed to be back in touch with Starfleet Command, to have a few admirals to consult, and now that I've gotten my wish I'm ready to tear out my hair."

"Don't do that. I saw you bald once--it isn't the best look for you." She sputtered in mid-sip and got champagne up her nose, and he laughed at her predicament as well as at her complaint. "You always said you envied earlier captains their freedom. Now you've experienced it, and you're hooked."

"I have, haven't I? It was rather like going back in time without the migraine. And now I'm in the habit of consulting my own conscience--and--" she lifted her mug to him "--a couple of other important sounding boards. Obviously what I really wanted was for Starfleet Command to simply validate my decisions, not actually--well--command me. I don't know if I'm cut out for this anymore, Chakotay. I never liked jumping through hoops, but I used to know how."

"You'll get used to it again," he said reassuringly. "Give it time."

"I do enjoy visiting students, though--that's one positive aspect of fame. Harry's mother invited me to come along with him to talk to her eighth-graders--that was a lot of fun. --Speaking of students--how about you? Here you are, in a hornets' nest of bureaucrats."

"Well, the Academy isn't as bad as Headquarters, and neither is as bad as the judicial authorities Sveda and I butt heads with. We've had our successes, though. Did Seven tell you about the Balliset case?"

"No--what was it?"

"Oh, just a Bajoran kid who got in way over his head with a mean-tempered Maquis captain who liked to make other people do his dirty work. Balliset never did anything really beyond the pale, but he didn't plead his case well when it came to trial. He just needed a persistent advocate. We were able to get his sentence commuted to planetary service on Bajor."

"Congratulations. I for one know how persistent you can be--the judges must love to see you coming."

"The mere sight of my name on a docket can induce palpitations," he said with mock pride. "To tell you the truth, though, I'm wearing out my usefulness. Sveda doesn't call on me as much now as she did at first. In a way it's a relief. Suder wasn't the only sociopath in the Maquis--some of them really do need to be locked up for a while, and sometimes Sveda can't see it."

"How's the teaching?"

She was surprised when his enthusiasm seemed to wane. "Well, I always enjoy sharing my interests, but when it's time to grade exams and research papers, I realize I'd rather be doing archaeology than teaching it. It's been a great experience, but it seems I'm not ready to settle down just yet. I've submitted my resignation, effective the end of this semester."

"But you taught Naomi and Icheb--"

"They were only two students. Now I have fifty, with no away missions to vary the routine."

"You're going back out," she deduced with a smile. "I wondered how long it would take you."

"Until I could go as a captain." His expression turned cheerfully smug. "My promotion came through last week."

She reached across the table to clasp his hands. "Chakotay, I'm so pleased! This calls for more champagne." She summoned another waiter. "I knew it--you do want to be captain after all. Are you hoping for a science vessel?"

Her obvious delight touched him deeply. "Yes. Mapping, surveys--if I'm lucky a first contact here and there."

"I hope we're assigned to a few joint missions."

"I'd like that. It would be like old times." He lifted his refilled glass in a silent toast, and she raised hers to meet it, wondering at the same time what this new separation would mean for him and Seven, and what it meant that he was willing to accept it.

Though they had hardly been hiding, they nonetheless had the feeling of having been discovered when they were interrupted by Naomi Wildman. At six years of age she was in the middle of her second Ktarian growth spurt, in appearance and behavior very like an exceptionally mature human twice her age. She wanted to know whether Janeway would be making a speech at the banquet the following evening.

"I most certainly will, and that's one speech I won't mind a bit. Can I count on my captain's assistant to keep me from being too long-winded?"

"Yes, ma'am!" She turned to Chakotay. "Will Seven be there? The Doctor said she was here before, but we just arrived."

"She wouldn't miss it--she's really looking forward to seeing you." Naomi grinned and scampered away to join her parents, and Janeway waved to Samantha and her husband, Greskrendtregk, whose appearance was as imposing as his name. She supposed she ought to relinquish Chakotay and mingle again, but it had been much harder to keep in touch with him than she'd anticipated, to find time to write long letters or to match their schedules for comm calls-- Besides, she told herself, she had the rest of the weekend to talk to everyone else. And then he was speaking again, and she didn't mind that the chance to break away easily was gone. "I've often wondered," he mused, "how someone who doesn't even try can have such a knack for making friends. --You know whom Seven really gets along with? Captain Picard."

Janeway nodded with immediate understanding. "Yes, she would. I met with Picard not too long after we got back--we compared notes on Q and the Borg. Talk about someone with a need to atone-- He and Seven would have a great deal in common."

"He's also used to dealing with Commander Data, and I think in a way he regards Seven as a sort of quasi-android." His eyes were alight with affectionate humor.

"Seven would probably be flattered to hear that. Picard's an archaeologist, too, isn't he?"

"Yes, and envious of our adventures in the Delta Quadrant--he taps in to my courses when he can--so I'm not completely superfluous to their conversations. Enterprise, by the way, is a very big ship. If it hadn't been for the computer's directions I might never have been seen again."

"I got lost the first time I went back to Starfleet Headquarters. I still believe they moved a bank of turbolifts, no matter what Admiral Chellakunik says."

"Tell me something," he said thoughtfully. "Are you used to being back?"

She swiveled her chair so she could rest her legs upon an adjacent seat. "No--not really. This past year has been so--disorganized-- Sometimes I don't know from one minute to the next what I feel. But it's beginning to come together--I think."

"I was in a daze for months. All the everyday things seemed so strange. Waking up to blue sky instead of stars, going out the door into sunlight and grass and trees and birds and the sounds of a city, instead of a gray corridor with nothing but whirrs and hums. I kept starting to say 'Computer--end program' so the world would go back to 'normal.' Having to look for a place to live really threw me. It was hard, somehow, to put down roots, even shallow ones, after seven years of transience."

"Strangers are living in my house; my sister sold it after Voyager was declared lost. I had to sign papers giving up all claim to it. I suppose a lot of us had to retrieve legacies from beneficiaries--there must have been miles of legal red tape to cut through--but at least I haven't heard of anybody murdering a sibling to get back Aunt Jane's silver. The worst part is not being able to share the joy of being home with very many of the people who would really understand--" She was pensive a moment, but very soon her face brightened. "Then again, there's something to be said for new blood. Let me tell you about a baby ensign I got last month. An incredible mind--she graduated from the Academy at twenty, and there's nothing involving numbers she can't do--but her personality is a mess. Combine B'Elanna with the Seven we first knew--I mean the Borg Seven--then add someone so shy she can't put two words together without passing out. I don't know how she got through the Academy, and I don't know how she's going to survive on Voyager-- Why are you smiling?"

"You always have a personnel project. Tom, Harry, B'Elanna, Seven, the three lost sheep--"

"Well, it's very satisfying, feeling that I have some influence on my crew, that I can help them develop not just as officers but as people."

"So was I ever one of your projects?"

"Oh, you just needed a little fine-tuning around the edges." He laughed and refilled her mug. "Chakotay--thanks for sticking up for me."

He was not surprised by her sudden gravity, nor did he have to ask to what she referred. "Always my pleasure," he said, very seriously.

"They wanted to know why you didn't relieve me of duty a time or two, didn't they?" He did not reply. "Don't worry--they asked me the same thing."

"More bureaucrats," he said with disgust. "I kept saying, 'What was I supposed to do--report her to Starfleet Command? request another captain?' They refused to understand just how precarious our situation was, how vulnerable we would have been if the crew had ever lost faith in you. Or maybe they were testing me, testing my motives--I don't know. But I must have convinced them of something, because they finally quit calling me in."

"If you'd stayed on Voyager they'd be calling you in again now. I've been warned twice about overstepping my authority."

"Can't your first officer keep you in line?" he asked with a wink.

"Commander Mkali is much more satisfactory than my previous FO; he doesn't have an insubordinate bone in his body."

"I don't believe it. You'd never be satisfied with a yes-man."

"You're right, and he isn't. We get along well, and he expresses his opinions pretty freely--but it isn't the same. It will never be the same." She had a slew of medals from every Federation homeworld represented on Voyager, but the greatest tribute she would ever be paid was Chakotay's unwavering loyalty, his willingness, when push came to shove, to subjugate his will to hers. More than once he had refused to take the step that would have been required of him in the Alpha Quadrant because he had understood to his bones the utter annihilation of her authority that would cause and the resultant destruction of morale among their crew. "I'm spoiled, used to a first officer willing to uphold what they call the 'mystique' of the captain even at the expense of his better judgment. I don't think he'd give in so easily here."

"It was never easy."

She looked at him a long moment. "I know it wasn't." Had their positions been reversed, she doubted whether she would have paid that tribute to him. "But you were afraid that here in the Alpha Quadrant you wouldn't be able to give in at all. You didn't think you could work with me here, did you?" He did not answer. "You've never had a very good poker face, Chakotay--not with me."

"Oh really?"

"Really." He merely gave her one of his faint but knowing smiles. She sighed. "You're probably right. Ours was a partnership for another time and place, another set of circumstances."

"That's why I left. At the time I would have said it was mainly because of Seven, but now I think she provided an easier justification for something I probably would have done anyway. I wasn't sure I could be your first officer in the Alpha Quadrant, and I didn't want to be first officer to any captain but you."

After all this time, his generosity and honesty could still move her to tears. Once again she reached for his hand. "It's so good to see you, Chakotay."

His smile was slow and warm. "It's good to see you, too."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You look chipper," he said when Seven opened the door of her apartment the next morning. She had given him a security code, but he never used it to let himself in; for years her shipmates--himself included--had barged in on her in the cargo bay without even knocking, and she was enjoying her privacy now. He embraced her and kissed her soundly.

"You do not," she replied. "There are dark circles around your eyes--you've had insufficient sleep."

"Kathryn and I got to talking and before we knew it it was three in the morning."

They had both made half-hearted attempts to split up and circulate, but in the end never interrupted their tête-à-tête unless someone approached their table; he must not monopolize her again tonight. He wondered why he had not made more of an effort to see her or talk to her in the eleven months since he'd left Voyager. He thought about her often, and not only while being questioned by boards of inquiry; so many times he'd had the impulse to turn to his right and share some thought or to tap his comm badge and ask her to lunch-- But her fear that they would lose touch had been justified; it was frighteningly easy when you weren't in the habit of communicating with someone by call or letter, when you were both busy getting used to new lives. They had played comm tag for a while but had finally admitted defeat, telling each other that staying in touch would be easier once things had settled down. Well, things had settled down, at least for him, but he had not resumed his attempts. Maybe the truth was that he didn't want to risk looking back, that he feared he would find it even harder to get used to his new life if he reminded himself of what he had lost in giving up the old.

"--But I wanted to see you before your meeting." Hands intertwined, they stepped into the kitchen. "I'll take a nap later so I won't snore through her speech."

"It wasn't necessary that you sacrifice sleep in order to join me."

"I know it wasn't necessary, but I wanted to see you. I missed you last night."

"You're saying I should have stayed later at the party and decreased my regeneration time."

"I am not saying that. I'm saying I missed you. I'm just expressing how I feel--no criticism implied."

"Humans often invest such complimentary expressions of feeling with hidden meaning," she pointed out. "You have said so yourself."

"You should know by now that I don't. I'm not some scientist trying to wheedle a recommendation for funding out of you." He punched up toast and orange juice on the replicator. "A couple of other people missed you, too--Naomi and Kathryn arrived a little late."

She returned to her seat before her bowl of whole wheat cereal, Icheb having finally persuaded her to try something besides "nutritional supplement 17A" for breakfast. Apparently convinced of his sincerity and obviously pleased to be fondly remembered, she asked, "Are they well?"

"Just fine. Kathryn asked about you."

"That was kind of her."

He sat down beside her and reached for the jam she kept on hand for him and Icheb. "Nobody will ever accuse you of being maudlin, will they?"

"Are you suggesting that I should be?"

"Of course not. Plenty of people aren't sentimental. You have to strike the behavioral note that's right for you. Just so long as you're sentimental about me--" They traded smiles over their toast and cereal. "Naomi's getting along great with her father--who, by the way, wants to thank you personally for helping to look after his daughter. And don't be surprised if Naomi shanghais you the minute you walk through the door."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "I do not believe Naomi Wildman would kidnap me and force me to crew a sailing ship to China."

"I don't know-- She really wants to see you and if she thinks that's the only way--" He leaned over and kissed her neck. "I've thought about shanghaiing you myself, to some distant planet or at least a deserted island, and then sabotaging the shuttle so you couldn't escape."

She shifted away from him. "Must you turn every conversation into a complaint about my activities?"

He had not meant to--not consciously-- "I have to take advantage of the opportunities I get--you're leaving again tomorrow. But all right--not another word this time, direct or indirect." He returned his attention to his breakfast. "Have you decided what you're going to wear tonight?"

"Why must you always try to alter what I wear?"

His hand ceased spreading jam, and then resumed, and he strove for a reasonable tone of voice. "I don't. You're the one who asks me for advice." As her tastes continued to develop, she had decided that her collection of utilitarian bodysuits was aesthetically limited and had begun to experiment with different clothing styles; she consulted him frequently on when to be elegant and when to be casual, when to be conservative and when a little flamboyance would not be out of place. "I only want to make sure we won't clash, or worse, look like the Delaney sisters on one of their 'twin' days. But wear what you like--I'll just pick something neutral." Given her mood, he refrained from mentioning that they wouldn't have to plan their wardrobe in advance if they lived together and could consult while dressing; they'd had that conversation a few times, too, Seven always asserting her preference for a measure of independence. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I was only trying to help."

Immediately she softened. "I know. You are always trying to help. But you don't seem to realize that I need less help now than I did a year ago."

"I do realize it, maybe more than you know."

This seemed to please her, and they proceeded to an amicable discussion of matters sartorial. And then he said, "The Doctor is eagerly anticipating a few duets with you. You'll look beautiful in that dress--it brings out the blue of your eyes."

"He will wait a long time," she said drily.

"But he promised. He'll be lynched if he doesn't deliver."

She was not amused by the teasing twinkle in his eye. "It would be difficult to lynch a hologram. He should have consulted me before making such a promise."

"Well, maybe so. But would it be so bad to sing a song or two with him after what he's meant to you--after what they've all meant to you?"

"The Doctor should know as well as anyone that I do not share his love of performance. So should you. Please do not lecture me."

"I wasn't aware that I was." In the tense silence he could hear the hum of her regeneration alcove from the bedroom. He made an effort, not entirely successful, to sound less testy. "Look, I only wanted to indicate how much everybody's looking forward to a concert. If you don't want to do it, don't do it." He drew a breath and tried diplomacy. "I know how you feel--I don't enjoy performing either."

"Now you are trying to appease me with a show of sympathy. You are disappointed in me."

"Stop misconstruing everything I say! I don't have a stake in this--I get to hear you sing all the time. I'm not 'disappointed' in you, Seven--I admire you. Don't you know that?"

"But sometimes--you seem to wish I were someone I am not."

Stunned, he gripped her hand and said earnestly, "If I've ever once made you feel that way, I'm sorry. You're a remarkable woman just the way you are. But I know that you'll continue to grow and develop--we all do, all our lives. It's part of being human. You might never be comfortable performing, and that's fine. On the other hand you might get so comfortable that you can't wait to sing arias and do pirouettes at every reunion."

After a moment her other hand covered his. "I--do not know how to do a pirouette," she said, in a tone that both conceded his point and offered contrite apology.

He smiled with understanding and relief. He didn't want Kathryn to sense any strain between them tonight, and he certainly didn't want to let Seven start for Jupiter Station tomorrow with any issues between them at all unresolved. He had made that mistake a time or two, and the cost upon their reuniting had been even greater miscommunication than they were enduring this morning. "Doc will just have to add some ballet subroutines so he can teach you."

"I would like to be present when you suggest that scheme to him. Until such modification and instruction, however--I suppose--I could sing a duet or two."

"Then I'll be leading the applause. Now come here and let me prove to you that I know exactly who you are--"

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

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