The book quote is from Howard's End, by E.M. Forster.

Hope you enjoy. Feedback is surely welcome. Contact me at forre005@tc.umn.edu.

Captain Kathryn Janeway sat in her Ready Room staring at her desk. A small woman in her mid-forties, auburn shoulder length hair and blue-gray eyes, her fine features folded up in a frown. She was feeling a bit peckish. Her starship, the USS Voyager, had been speeding rather uneventfully toward the Alpha Quadrant lately. Kathryn Janeway didn't much like this mundane routine. It caused her brain to ruminate.

She thought maybe that she would wander down to Astrometrics.

Leaving the Ready Room, she crossed the aft section of the bridge to the turbo lift.

"You have the Bridge, Commander. I'll be in Astrometrics."

"Aye, Captain."

She wasn't really sure what she wanted to achieve by going there, but she was feeling...what was she feeling? Argumentative? Demanding? Demented? She smiled to herself in the lift in the mood for another round of verbal Velocity.

The lift opened between the Holodecks and she strode through the corridor to the Astrometrics Lab, signaling the hatch with her presence. She stepped into the Lab and stopped.

"Captain."

Seven of Nine, the Astrometrics officer, did not turn from the viewscreen before her keeping her back to the hatch. Her efficient fingers danced across the console. Her wide sky-blue eyes glanced back and forth between it and the screen. Formerly Annika Hansen, Human, she had been abducted by the Borg at age six, living as a drone for nineteen years, before she met the crew of Voyager. Captain Janeway had severed her from the Collective during some rather nasty negotiations, attempting to get Voyager safely through Borg space. Now, Seven of Nine was attempting to adapt to life on Voyager, part Borg, part Human, on a starship headed for Earth, without her forethought or consent.

The Captain stood still inside just inside the hatch wondering again how Seven always knew it was she. Feeling the way she did, she decided to ask. Today would be Invasion of Personal Space Day.

"How do you always know when it's me?" she prodded gently.

Seven paused then continued entering data, taking in the responses from the viewscreen. The hairs on the back of her neck began standing up. She recognized this mood.

"Advanced Borg senses, Captain."

Janeway smiled and slowly stepped forward.

"Ah, and which senses do you use in this case?"

The Borg shuddered slightly but did not cease her tasks. It was worse than she thought. She never let down her Borg demeanor, determined not to show her growing apprehension.

"I recognized your particular...walk." Seven tried to be blase.

"I see. But I stopped my particular walk upon entering."

Seven's fingers hesitated on the board.

"Also a sign, since no one assumes that posture other than yourself."

Seven hoped she might get away with that. Janeway had been at this much longer, however.

"But you are always so certain..." the focusing woman countered deliberately. She took a few steps forward, stopping two meters behind the young woman, and slowly folded her arms across her chest.

Seven resisted a small sigh. Accept defeat now, or wait until it gets worse? Should she admit to knowing the Captain's particular scent? Or confess that she has the computer constantly monitoring the Captain's movements?

Not one to admit defeat easily, she decided to take the offensive. The Captain was not easy to knock off-balance, but it was possible. She turned slowly, linking her hands behind her back, facing the smaller woman, chin and chest standing out defiantly.

"You have an unique scent, Captain. It is unmistakable."

This did cause a slight shadow to cross the redhead's eyes.

"I'm not sure how to take that," she said almost to herself.

Seven turned again and faced her console, continuing to work as if control could be regained.

"Was there something you wanted?" The coldness was palpable.

Janeway smirked. Point to Seven. She had managed to neatly regain control and turn the tables on the Captain. How to proceed? Exactly what did she want? Could she get it here?

On a lesser day, she would have backed down. She always maintained a contingency plan to see Seven, knowing it best to come prepared when meeting an equal adversary. Well, almost equal, she thought, deepening the smirk.

She took a few steps to Seven's side, managing to narrowly avoid the tall blonde's shoulder, hearing the slight intake of breath from the enemy. Turning slowly and leaning back against the console, she looked up at Seven with wide slate-blue eyes.

She almost managed a look of innocence.

"I know we've been disagreeing a lot lately. I thought maybe we could talk about it." That low voice was so gentle, so unnerving.

Seven shot her a look, then focused on the viewscreen, her fingers still practiced efficiency.

"You wish to debate these issues further."

Janeway looked down, absently taking in the form before her.

"No, not exactly. I thought maybe we could discuss what's underlying the disagreements."

Now Seven stopped. She turned and faced the Captain fully. She could not help being intrigued.

"Clarify."

Janeway's eyes glinted.

"Please..." she said with no little steel.

Seven lowered her head.

"Please," she said softly.

Point to Janeway. With practiced control, she kept the smugness from her eyes. Her peckish mood was being satisfied; this was going well. She wanted to keep Seven's defensiveness at bay for as long as possible. She should move this discussion to a different location, take it back to her own turf, but she did not want the Borg to regroup. The Captain remembered this was her ship and almost smiled.

She wisely did not.

She suspected Seven had feelings for her that the young woman could not or would not identify. As Seven's humanity was reasserting itself exponentially, Janeway knew those feelings must have been taking on a more hormonal bent. Getting Seven to confess would require some planning. This mood had come on her rather suddenly, though, and the Captain had not taken the time to prepare. Fortunately, thinking on her feet was one of Kathryn Janeway's more formidable gifts. Direct confrontation? No. Prodding? Perhaps. Personal confession? There is something to that one. Lead by example, Janeway mused. Looking down, she began.

"I don't know how to say this...perhaps this isn't the place...but I feel a tension between us." Careful, Katie, she thought. "It's as if there's so much more under the surface that's not being said." She paused.

Seven swallowed. Hard. Janeway thought that, indeed, perhaps this intelligent woman had identified her feelings toward her "mentor."

Janeway moved in. She lowered her head. She touched Seven's arm.

"Perhaps it's my fault. It seems I...I...have been so hard on you because...well, because I..."

Was the Borg trembling slightly?

"I can't do this. Please, forgive me."

With that, Janeway, never raising her head, marched out of Astrometrics.

Seven of Nine was deeply shaken. What was she saying? The shock had kept her from formulating a sound during the Captain's departure. Her head was spinning and she released the breath she had not realized she was holding.

What was she saying? It became Seven's only thought.

As the hatch closed behind her, Kathryn Janeway stifled a laugh. The air was so thick in there you could cut it with a phaser. She considered this. Given Seven's inexperience, all she would have to do is wait. Round to Janeway, winner Janeway ? She'd have to wait and see.

To keep up the charade, she went straight to her quarters. On arrival, she contacted Chakotay and let him know where she was, claiming a fatigue she did not feel. More than a few sixteen-hour shifts had entitled her to that, and anyway, her mood was certainly not conducive to work. Her thoughts returned to Seven.

Walking to the replicator, she ordered a glass of Pinot Noir. Sipping it, she strolled into the bedroom to change out of her uniform. Would Seven come tonight? Probably not, but it is best to be prepared. She chose an ivory blouse and moss green slacks, allowing them to drape over her svelte e form. She slipped on her flats and considered dinner. Thoughts of Seven waxed and waned as she ate leisurely and sat down with her book.

"How like an old maid to fancy that Mr. Wilcox was courting her, " she read. Was this where she had learned about life, in books? Was this the way people were to treat each other?

"Mr. Wilcox met her at Waterloo himself. She felt certain that he was not the same as usual; for one thing, he took offence at everything she said."

Kathryn Janeway looked up and smiled. Ah, the telltale sign.

Seven of Nine, still in Astrometrics, was actively fighting panic. Her trembling fingers had returned to her console, but her thoughts could not. She checked the computer for Janeway's whereabouts. Why was she in her quarters in the middle of the Alpha shift?

And what had she started to say? She...she...what? Why it was so important was no mystery to the Borg.

It had been some time since this young woman with the icy exterior had realized her feelings for the Captain were infinitely more complex than student to teacher. She had been fascinated by the smaller woman from the moment that commanding being had challenged the Borg Collective. When suddenly torn from her world, Seven's rather benign emotions, previously deemed irrelevant, had turned rapidly into a hot hatred coupled with a deep resentment. It was not long, perhaps immediate, when the formidable redhead had completely taken over her emotional universe, first with this negative wave, then replaced, not slowly, with an aching need.

Janeway caused her to feel, an entirely new and uncharted internal territory. Whenever she heard that husky voice, observed that small frame, took in that subtle scent, feelings washed over her, unchristened and frightening. It was a shock whenever the Captain appeared, the strength of her presence, the sharpness of her intellect, simply put, the power. Seven could not help but be drawn to it. Truly, since the loss of the Collective voices, Seven had felt totally hollow and absolutely alone. Then Janeway would enter the room. Perhaps those eyes would train themselves on her, or that smile. That hand might touch her, so gently.

Or not.

Though she was a starship Captain, Janeway herself was more like the sea. She was blue-green depths beneath benevolent sky, her waves breaking softly on the weathered rocks surrounding her. In a flash, the sky could turn black, the brutal waves shattering the masts, ten meter waves of ice crashing over the sides of any ship attempting to cross her.

Seven's ship felt rather small. Perhaps, given some preparation, some experience, she could have withstood the storm. These were benefits she did not have. At the core, the only thing she did possess was her profound loneliness. Janeway's presence cut into her easily, plowing a deep furrow.

To keep some sense of equilibrium, the young Borg would do almost anything to please her. It was a testament to Seven's character that she would occasionally deny herself the only sustenance she wished for to stay true to her own reasoning, her own identity.

She also knew, however, in her calculating way, that her willingness to risk the Captain's disapproval had won her a grudging respect. She noticed Janeway's disapproval of sycophants. She had learned carefully from watching the Captain with her First Officer. Their friendship had intrigued her. She had hoped someday to reap the same rewards Chakotay seemed to enjoy. She had noticed a limit to those rewards, however, a limit she did not want. So she attempted to be Janeway's equal. She attempted to rise above her own inadequacies. After all, she was Borg. Even if she was small now, she had known greatness. Her collective knowledge and her innate intelligence made her a formidable being in her own right.

She was completely unaware of her physical beauty. Had she known, she might have changed her strategy. What she also did not know was that her attractiveness was not lost on Kathryn Janeway. Nor were her innocence and vulnerability. Or her strategy as it stood.

Checking the chronometer, Seven realized she was an hour past the end of her duty shift. She looked up at the screen noting that she had barely moved since Janeway left and she was no closer to figuring out what she was going to do.

CHAPTER TWO

The next morning, Captain Kathryn Janeway reported to the Bridge. She chatted awhile with Commander Chakotay bringing herself up to date on the ship's status. After a comfortable length of time, the Captain turned the Bridge over to her First Officer and retired to her Ready Room. Coffee in hand, she settled behind her desk and began perusing the PADDS waiting for her review. Reading over the report from Astrometrics, she realized her mood had shifted from the day before.

She suddenly regretted her behavior toward her young charge. She sighed, leaning back, and brought the coffee to her lips. It stayed there as she pondered why on Earth she felt the need to torture the young woman so. Not a very dignified way of letting off steam, she reproached. The meaning behind her particular choice of antagonism she locked out of sight. Relinquishing power was something she avoided at all costs, especially to her more basic instincts. She had been careful not to paint herself into a corner during yesterday's conversation. She could still get out of it easily. Years of diplomatic training paid off occasionally. In an odd way, this was another variation of practicing those skills. It was rather twisted, but it was an excellent challenge. An excellent challenge that could be controlled.

That was something rather hard to come by in the Delta Quadrant.

Janeway decided she had better come up with a plan before Seven sprang upon her with the inevitable questions. Would she dismiss the entire exchange? Postpone it, in case she decided to pursue it later? What, exactly, did she hope to gain from this?

"I don't want to decide," she said aloud. After all, part of the challenge was the spontaneity.

The glaring fact was she, indeed, wanted something to happen. This she would not admit. It represented an entire universe of needs and desires with which she did not wish to contend. So, she made it about Seven, what Seven wanted, how Seven would react.

She decided what she wanted was control and an outlet. It wasn't as if anything would come of it. She could always cut back emotionally before that happened. It had worked with Chakotay. Thankfully, he was dense enough to blame himself. She wondered if Seven might do the same if it ever got that far, blame herself as if it had been her misunderstanding of humanity which had led to this emotional turmoil and mental confusion. Janeway sighed again.

Sometimes she was too manipulative for her own good. It has saved lives, she rationalized, more than once.

There are some professions where practice does make perfect.

Seven of Nine had attempted to regenerate unsuccessfully. Her eidetic memory had allowed her to run the conversation in Astrometrics over in her head repeatedly. She finally concluded at 0342 that the Captain had said nothing. Since that time, Seven had been focusing not on the what, but the why.

Perhaps the Captain did want only to relieve the tension between them, not a harmful effort, although Seven could not imagine life without that tension. It had swirled in the air from the moment Janeway had entered her life. What would existence be like without it? Despite the uncertainty, Seven wished to know, to feel easy in the Captain's company, to feel comfortable. Seven could identify comfort. Sometimes it greeted her in the form of Cargo Bay 2 after certain unfortunate and altogether too common reminders of her mortality.

Seven decided that if this comfort was the Captain's goal, it was acceptable. Until the Captain herself identified what it was, the reason she was so hard on the Borg, the reason she obviously was having difficulty admitting, Seven concluded it was useless to speculate. If the Captain truly wished to ease tensions, she would continue with her statement. Otherwise, things would continue the way they had been. Seven had learned to adapt. She had learned not to expect more than what was given.

In this, Kathryn Janeway had underestimated her prey. She was expecting a more Human response, a need to connect, to resolve. Seven's ability to adapt was astounding.

A week passed.

Kathryn Janeway found herself waiting in vain for a questioning Borg who never appeared.

She should have let it go. She could not. It bothered her that Seven was not more curious. Such a quasi-emotional outburst from Kathryn Janeway would have caused more than a few hearts to pause. Why not Seven's? Had she misjudged Seven's feelings? That was an annoying thought. Perhaps she did need more practice after all.

This train of thought brought back the peckishness sooner than expected. This was not turning into an outlet, she thought wryly. This was turning into an eddy. Perhaps a change of tactics was in order. She sent a personal message to Astrometrics.

Seven,
Would you be interested in taking a walk with me later this evening on the Holodeck? I'd be interested in another philosophical discussion.
K. Janeway

Upon receipt, Seven promptly replied.

Captain Janeway,
I find your offer acceptable. Please elaborate on a specific place and time.
Seven of Nine, Tertiary adjunct to Unimatrix 01

Within minutes, Janeway had received her reply. It made her laugh out loud. Seven did amuse her so at times.

Seven,
Please meet me inside Holodeck One at 2100, and wear something comfortable.
K. Janeway

Seven was confused by this last message. As usual, she consulted her resources. Marching into Sickbay, she greeted the Doctor cordially.

"I have been asked to attend a social function and was instructed to wear comfortable clothing. I need further clarification. My biosuit is not sufficient?"

Seven's close-fitting biosuits were all she wore since the removal of her Borg exoplating. The biosuits efficiently assisted the remaining Borg implants in communicating and regulating her body's functions. Why would someone insist on replacing them?

The Doctor's curiosity at the term "social function" was immense, but he tried to keep it in check, not wishing to annoy his guest.

"What will you be doing at this function?"

"I believe I shall be walking and partaking in a philosophical discussion."

"Ah."

"But I am already comfortable."

The Doctor cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps, Seven, what this person means by comfort is not only your comfort but theirs as well. For instance, Captain Janeway might be comfortable in her uniform, but if she were to wear it to a party, other people might become uncomfortable since it reminds them of her rank and station, perhaps not something they wish to focus on while relaxing."

Seven considered this.

"But she is the Captain."

"Yes, but she's also a person. Sometimes it's easier to relate to the person and not the Captain."

Seven's eyes clouded over. The Captain was the person, was she not? Was there more to her than the Captain? Seven had not really considered this division of personality before. Was she not Seven of Nine wherever she was? Why would someone want to divide into different personalities? She thought it was best to ask.

" Clarify...please. Why would someone want more than one identity? How can someone have more than one identity without deception?"

Seven was starting to think maybe having one identity was one too many.

"There are certain expectations of behavior placed on the Captain when she is filling that role. A certain professionalism is inherent with her position. She must keep her emotions more in check. Her personal conversations and gestures are more restrained. Have you not seen how differently she acts when she's at a social function dressed in civilian clothes? Well, maybe Captain Janeway is a bad example. How about Ensign Kim? Did you see him arm-wrestling in Fair Haven? Have you seen him at Sandrine's?"

The clouds began to clear.

"I think I understand, Doctor. People choose to show different facets of their personalities and the clothing can help represent this. Thank you for your assistance. Perhaps you can also assist me in selecting appropriate attire."

"I'm a Doctor, not a fashion designer."

The clouds returned.

"But, I'll see what I can do," he sighed.

CHAPTER THREE

At precisely 2100, Seven of Nine entered Holodeck One. The arch immediately disappeared behind her. Kathryn Janeway was standing with her back to her looking over a large expanse of calm water. The air was heavy and fragrant. Seven could smell roses and bougainvillea. The sun was beginning to set to their left. The tall trees around the lake rustled softly.

Janeway turned to face her. As usual, the sight of the Captain made Seven a little light-headed. She was dressed completely in black. The long-sleeved blouse draped over her slight form ending at the hips. From there, it was soft, loose-fitting slacks and simple flats. She had left the top two buttons of her blouse undone. Seven was a little stunned. It caused her a slight intake of breath. Then suddenly that mouth was moving.

"Seven, you look lovely."

Seven was wearing royal blue, since the Doctor had said it brought out the colour of her eyes, a sleeveless tunic over midnight pants. Her outfit was slightly more form-fitting since to that she was more accustomed.

It had caused Janeway her own rather physical reaction. It also elicited a god she is beautiful thought. She cleared her throat.

"Shall we walk?"

She started off to Seven's right and the young woman stepped up beside her. They strolled at an even pace, much slower than Seven's usual stride. This was the Captain's evening. Seven decided to let her lead.

"I wanted to apologize to you for last week when I walked out of Astrometrics. I'm afraid I was a little...well, let's just say I should have thought more before I spoke." Well, that was honest, Janeway mused.

Seven could not look at the lake without looking past the Captain. That, she decided would take a little time.

"I find your goal of wanting to lower the tension between us acceptable."

Janeway bit the inside of her cheeks at her companion's choice of words.

"However, I am not sure how you wish to proceed."

Neither am I, Janeway thought. Then out it came.

"What did you wish to tell me before you left? Why have you been, as you said, so hard on me?" Seven had not really planned on asking. In typical Seven form, it had just fallen out of her mouth.

Janeway looked ahead and squinted. She knew it was coming. She planned for it to come. Of course, she should have assumed it would come immediately.

"Well, that's what I meant about not thinking before I spoke. Seven, can you keep what we say here in the strictest confidence?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Then please, when we're alone, call me Kathryn."

"Yes...Kathryn." Seven was now sure she could not look at the lake.

There was a silence. They could hear the crickets, watch the light spectrum change with the setting sun. Everything had a crimson hue. Seven looked up at the sky and it seemed infinite. She forced herself to ignore that it was all a holographic projection.

Janeway issued a small sigh. This actually feels rather good, she thought. It's been a very long time. She was beginning to tire of the game. Seven was so trusting, so vulnerable. The peckishness had faded. Now Janeway was feeling the creeping sensation of familiar self-loathing.

Seven sensed a change but did not know its cause. Perhaps her company was insufficient. Was the Captain disappointed? They continued to walk in silence. The growing darkness sharpened Seven's non-visual senses. Why this awkwardness? She had never seen the Captain at a loss for words. Then it occurred to her the possible explanation. There were few times when the young woman could not find words as well. The previous conversation, this sunset walk by the lake, the change of attire...

"Kathryn," she managed to get her mouth around it again. "Are you experiencing romantic feelings toward me?"

All of her training kept the Captain walking.

"Why would you say that?" she answered softly, still looking at the path before them, seeing only a few steps ahead in the dimming light.

Seven began to list the reasons. She had assumed the Captain's physical reactions had to do with the more combative elements of their relationship, increased respiration, chemical releases. Now all the information had been thoroughly processed in the Borg's central cortex. Her own emotions had blinded her to this possibility. Now, coupled with the Captain's recent behavior, it seemed as clear as hydrocyanic acid.

By reason twelve, the Captain allowed a low, soft chuckle. Seven stopped both walking and talking.

"Is this amusing?" she stated rather flatly.

The Captain stopped and turned, not containing her smile. She looked up at the young woman and folded her arms.

"Yes and no." How could she explain to Seven that she meant to manipulate a confession out of her? She did not wish to be the confessor.

"Is it possible that you have misinterpreted the data?" She figured it was worth a try.

"I have an 82.7 percent chance of being correct in my assessment. That is why I am asking the question, not stating the assumption."

When it came to strategy, the Captain was a genius. She could masterfully manipulate matter, both organic and non. However, when it came to managing her own emotions, Kathryn Janeway was woefully inadequate. Her answer had always been to stuff them down, lock them out. She wondered how she had ended up here, on the short end of the stick. Then she realized.

"Captain?"

"I'm sorry, I was thinking. Well, Seven, would it be worthwhile to tell you that I don't want you to know?" She was still smiling, more at herself than at Seven.

"No, since it seems I already possess this knowledge." Was that a small smile on the Borg's face? There definitely was a raised ocular implant.

"Well then. Let's continue our walk and we can discuss it."

Kathryn Janeway realized she had manipulated herself into this position. She never would have confessed her feelings to herself or to Seven any other way. She had relied on Seven's inexperience and the young woman's complete lack of guile. In doing so, she had snuck around her own defenses. She expected to feel more upset, angry even, but only felt a sense of relief, that and a profound sense of humourous irony.

Did it surprise her? Only that she had so blindly walked into her own trap. She would eventually admit she had been attracted to the woman from the moment their relationship began in the brig. She had expressed it in a seesaw of protectiveness and antagonism. Smoke and mirrors, she would chide. She would also concern herself on how to rationalize this to the crew. The smile would be inevitable. I really don't have to.

After all, this is my ship.