The words she had read on a plaque in one of the many debriefing rooms she had been confined to for nearly two weeks, suddenly resonated, speaking their fluency.

"Life is a culmination of the past, an awareness of the present, an indication of a future beyond knowledge, the quality that gives a touch of divinity to matter."
                --Charles Lindbergh

These lines represented where Kathryn Janeway was--at home in San Francisco confronted with the past and completely aware of the present. A present in which she and Voyager's crew had returned to Earth in seven years instead of the twenty-three endured by the pragmatic Admiral Janeway.

Admiral Janeway had been destroyed in the Delta Quadrant and with her, her timeline. The admiral had manipulated, coaxed, and enticed the captain into using the Borg-infested, transwarp hub to get Voyager home before her future could manifest. A future where so many of her crew would suffer and die, specifically one individual would suffer and die. Only this knowledge made the captain falter and question the inexorableness of the future. A future Captain Janeway had glimpsed and finally revolted against.

And now she stood in the foyer of an apartment she scarcely recognized for not having seen it in seven years. Her eyes needed to adjust. The warm colors of this place were a sharp contrast to the stark shades of her quarters on Voyager.

A wry grin passed across Janeway's face and she snorted as she remembered the years of self-imposed isolation. Her sparse quarters had served nicely to remind her that she was the captain. But these rooms extolled the virtues of a convivial, passionate woman--a woman the captain missed intensely.

"Captain?" a soft, unsure voice questioned. "Are you all right? Why do you not proceed?"

"Oh, Seven, I'm sorry. I was just distracted," Janeway responded slowly, stepping off the last stair from the entryway into the lower level of the living room. "It's a bit chilly in here. The environmental settings must be in conservation mode," she said, dropping her duffel bag onto the floor as Seven moved up next to her.

"I think it's just down the hall," she remarked quietly, disconcertion etching her features.

Seven raised her brow. "Captain?"

Janeway turned, focusing on Seven. "The environmental control panel."

"Oh."

Janeway grinned reassuringly at her, recognizing that the other woman found her lack of direction unsettling. She needed to maintain the captain's mask a little longer if only for Seven's sake. Since arriving in the Alpha Quadrant, the ex-drone had suffered through being debriefed, scanned, and prodded by various Federation officials and personnel.

Given the Federation's fear of the Borg, they had shown remarkable restraint when it came to Seven--much to Janeway's relief. Maybe this governmental temperance would give way to political temperance and Seven would be allowed to hold a post at a Federation lab or maybe even attend the Academy, if she should chose to.

"One step at a time," the captain reflected, reining in her thoughts and refocusing on the immediate needs of her young companion. "Come on, your room is down here, too."

Shuffling her bag from one shoulder to the other, Seven followed the captain down the hall until she came to the first of four doors. Pausing, Janeway pushed open the door and allowed Seven to enter in front of her.

Seven walked into the spacious room and stood, taking it in. The furnishings were elaborate, plush, and inviting like the rest of the apartment appeared to be. Moving around the room, she laid her bag on the settee situated in a small alcove framed by a trio of floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond, she could see the churning Bay of San Francisco.

From just inside the doorway, Janeway watched Seven travel around the room as she familiarized herself with it. "Beautiful," she thought, dragging her eyes along the bold curves of Seven's figure.

"Decadent," Seven thought as she ran her hand over a thick quilt, which hung casually over the headboard of the intricately carved, four-poster bed.

"My grandmother knitted it," Janeway said, still examining the tall blond as she caressed the quilt.

Seven turned and regarded her. "It's lovely. The room is very nice. Thank you for . . . sharing, Captain."

A vibrant smile pressed across the captain's lips. "Kathryn, please. I would rather not be called Captain for a while, at least not at home--here." She paused for a moment, assembling her thoughts. "And Seven, I'm happy to share. . . . Tomorrow we will have your regeneration unit installed there," she said, pointing at the far wall.  "Unless there's a place you would rather put it."

Seven moved around the room. "I believe the regeneration unit is going to conflict with these copious furnishings." She pointed at a door. "Is this a closet?"

Janeway looked horrified. "Seven, I won't have you living in a closet!"

"I would only be regenerating in it," she mused, straight-faced.

Janeway calmed herself. "I am more concerned with your comfort than what the room looks like, but if you prefer the closet . . . ."

Seven smirked at her and the captain realized she was teasing. "The wall is sufficient."

Janeway nodded and chuckled, relief flaming through her as she turned to go. "Okay, then. Make yourself comfortable. . . . I should just go check on those environmental controls."

"Kathryn?"

Janeway turned in the doorway, placing a hand on the frame. "Yes?"

Seven glanced at the ground, and then back up at her. "I am grateful."

The captain felt a rush of protectiveness and sought to comfort the ex-Borg. "Seven, I'm happy to have you here," Janeway said quietly, letting go of the doorframe and moving towards Seven to embrace her. "Really," she whispered into the taller woman's ear as she hugged her close. And that was the truth. Having the young woman with her had helped her keep her focus away from feeling suddenly lost and purposeless.

*******

Standing on the balcony outside her apartment, Janeway watched the sunrays flare off of tendrils of water waving across the Bay. The afternoon sunlight was refreshing to her spirit, and since it occurred only for a few spare hours of the afternoon, she took advantage of it. Soon the fog would roll in as it did every evening. San Francisco fog was like a living, breathing creature--a great, gray bear taking interminable puffs of air to lumber its way across the Bay.

A shadow passed at her periphery. "Kathryn, I have prepared a small meal. I thought you might be hungry now."

Seven held her breath waiting for Janeway's reply.

She still wasn't hungry, but she hadn't had anything not even coffee in more than twenty-four hours and she sensed the worry shading Seven's words. "That sounds good."

The taller woman exhaled in relief and turned to walk back inside.

Following Seven in, Janeway noticed a familiar picture beckoning from a silver frame sitting on the side table next to the couch. Routing her path around the couch to the table, she gripped the frame and looked intently at the photo. She shook her head and sighed. "All water under the bridge," she thought, turning the frame upside down on the table before continuing to the kitchen.

Entering through the double doors, Janeway was invited to take a seat at the table. She inspected the chicken stew in a large crock in the center of the table and the bowl and utensil on the place setting in front of her. "You've already prepared everything?"

"Of course, Kathryn," Seven said concisely.

Janeway nodded, chuckling. "Of course you have. It smells wonderful. Thank you."

Seven sat opposite her, placing her napkin in her lap. "You're welcome. It is not an elaborate meal, but it is nutritionally balanced. Please, begin."

Janeway flashed a crooked smile. It was funny how an invitation from Seven sounded more like an order. Maybe she did have a future in Starfleet.

A few peaceful minutes passed, both women content to eat quietly, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Seven broke the silence. "Kathryn? Do you not wish to see that photograph?" she inquired.

"Hmm. . . ?"

"The photograph you placed face down on the table. I will remove it, if it is unpleasant for you."

Janeway looked attentively into the pale blue eyes. "No. It's all right. I can replace it with something more suitable. It's no longer appropriate for me to harbor feelings or a picture, for that matter, of a married man. Now is it?"

"Given human culture, I suspect it is not. However, there are more than three hundred examples of multiple--"

Janeway pointed one finger into the air, thereby interrupting Seven. "That's okay, Seven. I don't really want Mark anymore; I don't love him. It's really just the loss of the idea of him. Can you understand that?" She broke off, giving the other woman a moment to think. When Seven didn't reply, she continued. "He has another life and so do I--or rather--I will, eventually."

Seven nodded her affirmation and resumed eating; although, she wasn't entirely sure she understood. She considered pressing the captain for more information, but the older woman was now staring introspectively into space, again lost in her own thoughts. Instead she just observed Janeway from lowered eyes, quietly inspecting her.

Seven's analytical mind whirled around the captain's words. Why would she be unsure of her future? The captain was already a successful individual, and for this reason alone, she would be considered an appealing mate. Add to that, the fact that, by any standard, she was an attractive female--piercing, blue-gray eyes set in classic features framed by thick, silky auburn hair. She was also intelligent, cunning, formidable, generous, compassionate . . . . What else could a human want in a romantic partner?

"Chakotay," Seven thought. She would ask him. After all, at one time, he seemed immensely fond of the captain. Her thoughts shifted to the commander--she had to tell the captain about her relationship with him before he showed up on her doorstep.

Anxiety spidered up her throat. It wasn't that she feared Janeway's anger; she knew she wouldn't be angry so much as annoyed at the secrecy. For Seven, though, it was more than enduring Janeway's displeasure; it was that telling her seemed to validate the relationship, making it real. Seven sighed. "Kathryn, I must inform you about . . . something."

Janeway put down her spoon, sensing that Seven needed her complete attention.

Seven steeled herself, clenching her jaw. "Commander Chakotay and I have commenced--." She sighed again. "I am seeing Commander Chakotay."

The admiral's words came flying back at her--'in the arms of her husband . . . Chakotay . . .' Janeway followed the wood grain of the table with her eyes and her fingertip. "I know."

"You know," Seven parroted.

"Yes, Admiral Janeway informed me," she said simply.

"You approve?"

"Yes, Seven, of course. Chakotay is a good man  . . . and he would be lucky to have you," she said softly.

Seven smiled openly, obviously happy that her captain approved. Janeway felt her chest struggle to contain her heart, at once feeling an empathetic flash of joy as well as a rapid ripping at her psyche. Ultimately, she knew that she would do anything to help this woman, even if it meant losing her.

*******

The captain stood in the foyer, a wry smile twisting her features as she reached for the access lever to admit her former first officer into the apartment. "Hello, Chakotay," she greeted cordially.

"Cap--Kathryn!" he said, his eyes growing wide. "I--I thought you would be at Starfleet headquarters. Wasn't there a final officer's debriefing?"

"It ended," Janeway said curtly, feeling a bit annoyed at  his evident distress.

Chakotay clasped his hands in front of him, wringing them together. "Oh." He nodded reflexively, pressing his lips together in concentration. "I was planning to take Seven to Chinatown for lunch . . . If you would like to join us?"

Janeway smirked at him. "That's generous of you; however, my mother and sister are set to arrive in a couple of hours."

"Then maybe another time?"

"Maybe," Janeway said noncommittally.

Chakotay shuffled back and forth, placing his weight first on one foot than on the other. Kathryn eyed his nervous fidgeting, and for a moment, felt badly that he should be  so uneasy in her presence. "Chakotay, please relax. Seven has spoken to me about your . . . relationship."

He remained silent, but the panicky tottering stopped. Kathryn took her voice low, whispering conspiratorially. "It's funny, you know. I always got the impression that you barely tolerated Seven. When you actually had a little crush, huh?"

Chakotay grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Well, no, I did want her off the ship at first. I was sure she would betray us, but she didn't. And she does grow on you. She is quite beautiful."

"Yes, she is at that," Kathryn said a little less enthusiastically. She would have much rather heard a testimonial to Seven's many other qualities--not just her beauty.

Chakotay continued to grin amiably. "Kathryn, I wanted to thank you for coming to the aid of the Maquis," he said, looking at her from under his thick brows. "I doubt they would have jailed us, but if you hadn't insisted, well, the trial would have dragged on a very long time."

Janeway held up her hand in protest. "Please, don't thank me. After those first few months in the Delta Quadrant, I tried not to treat the Maquis any differently than the Starfleet crewmembers. Everyone performed admirably all those years. There wasn't any way I would have tolerated allowing the persecution of any member of that crew. We've all been through enough."

He nodded, casing Janeway familiarly with his eyes. "I know. But still, thank you."

A door closed and Seven emerged from the hall, striding up to the pair still standing in the foyer. "Commander, I am ready," Seven said stiffly, casting a glance at Janeway.

"You look lovely," Chakotay complemented smoothly, taking in the pale blue turtleneck and black wool pants Seven wore.

"Thank you. Kathryn chose the ensemble." Chakotay looked at the captain, surprise setting his features.

Janeway surveyed Seven. The way the clothing softly enhanced her figure and brought a flush of color to her skin and eyes made Janeway's mouth dry. She was feeling every bit like the owner of a rare jewel who realized a thief was loose in her home.

Janeway managed to swallow the sigh before it escaped her lips. "I have things I must do," she said with a nod, turning away from the couple and starting down the hall. "Have a good time. . . ," she called out.

*******

"You've been awfully quiet. Don't you like the food?" Chakotay asked.

"Yes, it's very good. The variety of ingredients is tantalizing," Seven assured.

"Something else wrong then?"

Seven glanced around the restaurant, passing over the vibrant colors and bright atmosphere of the dining room, her eyes only briefly resting on several of the patrons. "No, I'm just feeling anxious."

"Why?"

"I believe people are staring at me--because I am . . . was Borg."

"Seven, you are not Borg anymore, and if people are staring, it's because they are wondering what such a beautiful woman like you is doing with a guy like me."

Seven smiled bashfully. "That is inaccurate, but thank you nonetheless."

Chakotay grinned, the small lines at the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "You're going to have to give it time. You'll get used to everything--it's just new and uncomfortable right now."

Reality was Chakotay had noticed the stares Seven had garnered while they were being seated, and it had even made him a bit uncomfortable. In attempt to quiet his own nerves, he changed the subject to something less daunting. "How are you getting along all right with the captain?"

Seven grew serious again. "Very well. Kathryn is good to me. I owe her much."

"We all do, but she's not like that. She does it because she's an honorable woman and it's her duty. She doesn't look at it like we owe her. She wouldn't want us to feel like that. It would hurt her."

Seven considered his words. "She asked me to stay with her. Do you believe she requested this because it was her duty?"

"Oh, boy! High maintenance dealing with all this Borg stuff," he thought, sighing. He shook his head. "No. No, she invited you because you're her friend."

Seven placed her chopsticks neatly on her plate. Looking down, she fidgeted with the napkin in her lap.

"Seven?"

"Everyone else had a place to go," she stated succinctly, sadness edging her words.

"You had someplace to go, too. None of us would have abandoned you--not even B'Elanna," he teased, trying to lighten the mood again.

Seven grinned a bit at the mention of the fiery engineer she had so often quarreled with. "Come on now, you're special to all of us," he said.

She nodded and he took the opportunity to change the subject again. Maybe this time he could pick a topic that wouldn't spawn any more Borg-induced traumas. "Uh, how about a walk along the wharf before heading back?"

*******

The three women bustled up to the door.

"Kate, this bag is heavy," the tall, strawberry blond complained.

Kathryn leaned Phoebe's easel against the wall. "I'm hurrying. I'm just having a little trouble remembering the entrance code. It's been a long time since I had to use it repeatedly," Kathryn said, annoyance dripping from her voice as she punched in the code.

She pushed the door open with her back as she grasped the easel to tug it into the foyer of her apartment. Just inside, she stopped dead nearly slamming the bulky, wooden thing into the railing encircling the elevated entryway. Below her, Chakotay held Seven in a heated embrace of arms and lips.

Kathryn stared as large, thick fingers traveled down a lithe back. She felt the shock boil through her, turning her cheeks red and causing her skin to heat. "Come on, they are dating. What did you expect?" she admonished herself silently. "I'm sorry, hope we are not interrupting," Janeway stated loudly, a slight quiver in her voice being the only betrayal to her composure.

The two sprang away from each other. Seven stared at the captain, her mind spinning erratically for something to say. Chakotay crinkled his chin, glancing from Kathryn to Seven and back again. "No, not--not interrupting. I was just leaving."

"Oh." Janeway said sharply, just then remembering that her mother and sister were still standing behind her. "Uh, before you leave, I would like to introduce you to my mother, Gretchen, and my sister, Phoebe."

Two sets of gray eyes regarded him, cool in their reception. Chakotay walked up the stairs and extended his hand to the elder Janeway. "Mom, this is Chakotay."

A delicate, slender hand gripped his with more force than he would have thought possible. "Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Janeway."

"Yes. You too, Mr. Chakotay," the white-haired woman said in raspy tones, regarding him dubiously.

Phoebe eyed her mother, knowing how it felt to be on the receiving end of that look, and then abruptly pushed her hand between the two. "Hi. It's nice to meet you, Chakotay."

Chakotay took the offered hand, grateful to be released from the hardnosed inspection of Gretchen Janeway. "Nice to meet you, too," he said, fascination spreading a wide smile across his face.

One look at Phoebe told Chakotay everything he needed to know--she was her sister's antithesis. The eclectic clothing and bulky silver jewelry on a taller, more voluptuous frame lent to a lighthearted, and maybe even whimsical appearance--both of which he found appealing. "An artist," he recalled silently intrigued.

Phoebe smiled back and he released her hand. "Well, I've got to be going." He turned to Seven, who still remained silent. "Thank you for the wonderful time. I'll see you on Wednesday."

Seven only nodded as Janeway yanked the easel the rest of the way down the stairs and leaned it against the wall next to her.

"Seven, my mother, Gretchen, and my sister, Phoebe."

Seven pulled herself up straight. "It's a pleasure to meet both of you."

Gretchen beamed at the blond woman and Seven was struck by how evident it was that this woman was Kathryn's mother. "Seven, we've heard so much about you," Gretchen said, picking up her bag and hooking her arm around Seven's shoulders. "Tell me, Dear, what do you think of Earth?"

Seven looked at Gretchen bewilderedly. "I find it . . . it is . . . "

Kathryn interrupted, holding off Seven's bafflement. "Uh, Seven, why don't you show them where they will be staying?"

Seven nodded at Kathryn and set off down the hall still ensconced in Gretchen's arms and with Phoebe in tow.

Kathryn watched them go. Gripping the easel, she pulled it into the living room up next to the picture window. For a moment, she just stared out the window. Her moods were a wonder to her--verdant delight, and then arid depression. "Coffee. That's what I need. Hot, black coffee," Kathryn thought, walking into the kitchen.

Pulling the cup away from the replicator terminal, she brought it to her lips. "Mmm. . . ," she hummed, closing her eyes and savoring the familiar tang. The bitter flavor washed past her tongue and she swallowed.

She thought she would be able to deal with the romance blossoming between Chakotay and Seven, or had she just hoped it would all go away once they were in the Alpha Quadrant? Behind her still closed eyelids the image of Seven crushed in Chakotay's arms racked her mind. Seven's full lips moving against his. "Oh, God, what is wrong with me?" Kathryn mumbled.

"Wrong? Aren't you feeling well, Sweetheart?" Gretchen asked, coming into the kitchen.

"Fine, Mom."

Gretchen eyed her daughter suspiciously. "You're talking to yourself . . . just like your father used to when he was upset about something."

"Really, I'm fine. Where's Phoebe and Seven?"

"You know Phoebe--she has the poor, young woman trapped in the hallway. All kinds of questions."

Knowing how curious and obtrusive her sister could be, Kathryn's eyes grew wide with panic. "Mom, you can't leave Phoebe alone to accost Seven," she said, rounding the corner from the kitchen into the living room and making her way to the hallway. But before she reached the hall, she spotted them.

Surprise cast Kathryn's features. Phoebe and Seven were sitting together on her living room couch. The two leaned in intimately together over a holographic imager. Kathryn moved tentatively closer to the them, finally coming to sit on the other side of Seven. "What are you looking at?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, images of you when you were . . . small."

Kathryn looked up and met her sister's smug look. "Phoebe, why are you boring her with those?"

Seven lifted her head again, regarding Kathryn. "I am not bored."

Kathryn shook her head and frowned at Phoebe then looked at the holoimage. "I haven't seen these in years. That one was taken just after my sixth birthday," she said, pointing at the image. "I loved that frilly, yellow dress. Felt like a ballerina. Wanted to wear it all the time," Kathryn chuckled.

"Especially with your favorite boots," Gretchen said, watching the three women on the couch.

"Oh, yeah, those cowboy boots," Kathryn recalled.

"Yes, those hideous black ones your father brought back from one of his trips to Houston."

"I loved those boots. Wore them with everything, even during the summer. . . ." Kathryn reminisced.

At that, Phoebe poked Seven in the arm, and then pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "I remember those boots, too."

Seven smiled warmly, feeling filled by the comfort and amicability these women offered so freely.

*******

Phoebe strolled into the kitchen where she knew she would find her mother and sister busily preparing caramel brownies. That was Kate's one and only request since returning home--her mother's caramel brownies.

A small smirk graced the lightly freckled features as she watched her older sister plunge her finger into the large bowl of dark chocolate batter. "Nothing much ever really changes," Phoebe thought. "Survived seven years in Delta Quadrant and she's still a creature of habit." But then her mind pushed around to the newest, honorary member of the Janeway clan--the tall, wispy blond regenerating in the bedroom. Maybe her sister hadn't let Starfleet convention completely wipe away her existence. "Kate must be insane," she deliberated silently.

Phoebe cleared her throat, announcing her presence in the kitchen. Two identical smiles beamed at her. Stepping up to Kathryn, she smiled back mischievously. "So why are you letting ole second-in-command move in on your territory?" Phoebe asked.

"Hmm . . ?" Kathryn hummed, still sucking the fudge confection off her finger.

"Tall, dark, and Native American? Why is he squeezing your tomatoes?" Phoebe pressed.

"Phoebe! The state of your sister's love life is her own business," Gretchen scolded her youngest daughter.

Kathryn shifted away from her sister, her gaze falling on the back of her mother's head. "Mom, what are you two talking about? I don't have a love life. I've been . . . marooned in the Delta Quadrant for seven years."

"Whatever you say . . . ," Phoebe slanted.

Kathryn, exasperated and perplexed, twisted her eyebrows together.

Gretchen turned from the pan she was preparing. "Sweetheart, I guess we just assumed, well, with as much as you wrote to us about Seven of Nine, that you two were involved."

"Involved! Involved in what?"

"Involved-involved, Kate," Phoebe explained cheekily.

"No! Of course not, Phoebe. She was a member of my crew, and more than that, she's innocent. What kind of captain would that make me?" Kathryn said, dramatically. It annoyed her to no end that her family could come in and in a day figure out what had confused her for years.

Phoebe smirked. "She didn't look so innocent to me."

Kathryn glared menacingly at her sister and Gretchen rolled her eyes at her youngest daughter before turning her attention back to Kathryn. "All right, Kate, we understand. It just seemed as though you cared for the young woman," Gretchen explained.

"I do care for her, but not like that. . . ."

Gretchen raised a hand, interrupting her daughter's rationalizations. "Kate, really, do you think I don't know? I'm your mother. I know you better than anyone. Besides, everyone can see it; it's written all over your face every time you look at her."

Kathryn sighed, trying to come to grips with her mother's derisive tone. "What's written all over my face?"

Gretchen turned, wiped her fingers on the kitchen towel and then placed her hands on Kathryn's shoulders. "Your love for her."

Janeway squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "What?"

"Oh, come on, Kate, don't deny it," Phoebe taunted.

Janeway looked at Phoebe, then back at her mother. "I'm her captain."

"Not anymore. . . ." Phoebe pointed out, lifting her eyebrows suggestively at Kathryn.

Gretchen, ignoring Phoebe's comment, nodded at Kathryn. "True. And mentor. And friend. So? Don't you think that there might be more?" She paused. "Kate, all I'm saying is that she is a lovely person. You enjoy each other. Care for one another. And if there is one thing I know about you, my daughter, is how you set these arbitrary restrictions on your personal life while taking incalculable risks in every other circumstance."

Kathryn frowned, involuntarily recognizing the accuracy of her mother's insights. Gretchen peered intently back at her, hoping she was getting through to her daughter. Kathryn shrugged away from her mother's grasp and peered into the glass front of the oven. "So are they almost ready?"

Phoebe snorted and Gretchen sighed, wrapping her arm around Kathryn's shoulders. "Oh, Sweetheart, yes, another few minutes."

End of Part I

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