• This is the 42nd installment in the Just Between Series.
• It was posted August 18th, 2000.

Stepping onto the bridge of USS Voyager, Captain Kathryn Janeway glanced around at the alpha shift manning their posts, checking their demeanor. Immediately to her right at the tactical station, Tuvok responded to the captain's nod of greeting with a slightly raised Vulcan eyebrow. To her left, Harry Kim offered her a smile, which she returned briefly before taking a deep breath and turning her attention to the viewscreen dominating the front of the bridge. It revealed a starfield that was exceedingly ... achingly ... familiar, constellations that she had studied and become as comfortable with as the paths in the fields behind her home in Indiana. Lost for seven years in the Delta Quadrant, the captain had finally brought her vessel home to the Federation, and now they were on the final leg of that most incredible journey ... warping to Earth after departing Deep Space 9 two days earlier.

It was a bittersweet return, Janeway thought as she descended the short flight of stairs to the command level, greeted by Commander Chakotay who stood up respectfully as she approached. There had been no tickertape parade, no great sense of triumph ... just the incredible knowledge that they were finally home, and would be able to resume their lives once again.

Several of her crew had already started.

After a war with the Dominion that had cost hundreds of ships and thousands of officers, Starfleet was desperate for skilled and seasoned starship personnel. Voyager's return had been like manna from the gods, and several other vessels had wasted little time in offering berths and positions, sweetened by promotions and other perks. Janeway couldn't match such offers, of course, since Voyager was on its way to Earth's solar system where it was to be dry-docked at the Utopia Planitia shipyards orbiting Mars, and upgraded to meet current Starfleet operating standards. She could only wish her best to those crewmembers who had been as close to her as family, including those Maquis who couldn't wait to leave the vessel as soon it had docked at the Bajoran space station. From 150, the crew manifest had been reduced to 56 ... too few for the optimum operation of an Intrepid-class vessel in emergency or tactical situations, but safe enough to ferry the ship back to its home port.

Janeway stifled a sigh as she took her seat. For seven years, Thomas Eugene Paris had been her chief helmsman, but he had been transferred to the USS Enterprise and had accepted his new posting while both ships had been berthed at DS9. It seemed odd not to see his fair head before her when she looked toward the front of the bridge, her view encompassing, instead, the slender, dangerously graceful Bajoran, Lt. Ro Laren, who covered the helm competently, if not as skillfully as her predecessor.

Trying not to dwell on it, Janeway switched her console toward her and started in on her duties for the day, quickly becoming immersed in the paperwork that seemed to be the main requirement for their return to the Federation. When the turbolift door slid open some time later, Janeway was glad of the interruption, glancing back to see her astrometrics officer stride purposely onto the upper level. The young woman moved immediately to the aft tactical post just behind the command area where she began to input data, apparently oblivious of any interest her arrival might have caused.

Statuesque, with ice-blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, Seven of Nine had once been a Borg drone, and even now, the metallic implants adorning her narrow features ... one framing her left eye and one adorning her right cheek ... gave stark testimony to that time. Her manner was abrupt and precise, intimidating to those who knew her only superficially.

But for those who knew her intimately, Seven possessed a warm and generous nature, readily shown to friends and family. Janeway was one of those fortunate beings, having been romantically involved with Seven for over two years. It still amazed the captain to know that she had left the Federation engaged to a man named Mark Johnson, and returned married to a woman who had been born Annika Hansen.

"Captain," Harry said suddenly, interrupting the captain's chain of thought, "We're picking up a distress call."

Immediately alert, Janeway straightened in her chair. "Report." This was the first bit of excitement they had since undocking from DS9, and she discovered a pleasurable surge of anticipation filling her chest.

"It appears to be on a heading of mark 26, the Argolis Cluster. The signature identification is a Federation freighter, the UFP Threadneedle. But Captain..."

"Lt. Ro, alter course on a heading toward the Argolis Cluster," Janeway said, her voice crisp, disregarding the fact that her ship was severely understaffed. "Bridge to sickbay."

"Captain."

"Sickbay here," the Doctor responded.

"We're responding to a distress call," Janeway barked. "Prepare sickbay for possible casualties."

"Captain!" Harry offered again, in a more strident tone.

Startled, Janeway looked back, and he looked vaguely sheepish.

"The USS Ulysses is already in the vicinity and reports that they have things under control. They thank us for the offer of assistance, but it's not required."

Janeway opened her mouth, paused, and then closed it firmly, nodding briefly. "Of course," she said, feeling acutely embarrassed, though she wasn't sure why. "As you were."

She turned forward, feeling her ears burn. She was aware of Chakotay regarding her sympathetically.

"It's not easy to get used to the fact that we're not the only ones out here."

"It's definitely an adjustment."

"Sickbay to Bridge."

She closed her eyes. "Bridge. Sorry, Doctor, false alarm. Carry on."

There was a pregnant pause, the sort of accusing silence that only made things more awkward.

"Very well, Captain," he said finally, in a stiff voice. "I was going to ask for more details about the emergency, but apparently it's not necessary. I would suggest, however, that the next time you wish to stage a drill, perhaps you should give me a little notice. That way, I wouldn't be required to call Crewman Harris out of her bath."

With Tom Paris and Kes both gone, the Doctor had been somewhat innovative in finding medical assistants for the final trip home. Harris had once helped him hold down Jake, Janeway's Irish Setter, while the dog received his shots, and the Doctor figured that was good enough for her to at least hold a hypospray now and again.

Janeway stifled a groan. "Please tender my regrets to Crewman Harris."

She glanced at Chakotay and he looked away, undoubtedly to prevent her seeing any inappropriate amusement from him at the sheer incongruity of the situation. Janeway shook her head and sighed softly, feeling as if a little more had slipped beyond her control. What exactly, she wasn't entirely sure, but the sense of being a tiny cog in a big machine remained, and she didn't think she liked it very much.

With the bridge quiet once more, the moments continued to pass with a sort of agonizing slowness. At one point, the captain discovered she was drumming her fingers impatiently on the arm of her command chair, and rather than impose her unsettled nerves on her crew, she cleared her throat, looking over at Chakotay.

"I'll be in my ready room."

"Aye, Captain." If there seemed to be a touch of relief in his glance at her decision to leave the bridge, she deliberately chose not to notice it.

She took a breath and rose from her seat, moving over to the port side of the bridge, aware of the pale blue gaze following her progress speculatively, but Janeway did not look back as she entered her sanctuary. Inside the office, the captain mounted the short flight of stairs to the upper level and stared out the viewports which faced forward, the stars seeming to streak past the ship as it traveled through space, distorted into streaks of light by Voyager's warp bubble. She exhaled audibly and rested her hands on her hips, wondering if she was really prepared for her vessel's return to Earth ... for how she had to respond to things now that they were back in the Alpha Quadrant.

She decided that it was probably a good idea that she was accepting an administrative position while the ship was being upgraded. It would grant her some much needed time to adapt, since it was becoming painfully obvious that being on her own for seven years had altered her reflexes, and caused her to react to events in ways that didn't necessarily work in the Federation. She could only hope that the desire for independence she had developed would not hamper her when she took over a new posting.

She had yet to decide exactly which of the offers by Starfleet Command she would accept, however. It truly depended on where Seven of Nine decided to go, whether to Mars and Dr. Leah Brahms' Theoretical Propulsion Group, or to Earth where the Daystrom Institute was located. Then, there were the other offers the Borg had received from equally renowned scientific facilities such as the Vulcan Science Academy and the Trill Ministry of Technology. For the first time since the two women had been together, it would be Seven's career that dictated what the couple would do in their personal life, rather than Janeway's.

A soft chime echoed through the room and Janeway turned her head slightly. "Come."

She didn't know whom she was expecting, but somehow, she wasn't surprised when her partner entered the room. She glanced back at Seven, and then resumed her contemplation of the stars, folding her arms over her chest. "Yes?" There was a touch of warning in her tone.

She heard the Borg ascend the stairs behind her before the footsteps faltered. Janeway could see in the reflection of the transparency that the young woman had taken a position of attentive patience a few feet behind her, standing there with her hands linked behind her back, her head tilted ever so slightly so that the ocular implant framing her left eye was angled toward the captain.

"How are you, Kathryn?"

"I'm fine," Janeway said, striving to match that controlled evenness. "It wasn't necessary that you leave your post to come in here."

There was a pause. "I do not believe you. Something is wrong."

Janeway fought down a surge of annoyance and outrage. "It is not prudent for a junior-ranked officer to accuse a captain of lying." There was an edge in her tone she was unable to excise entirely.

"I am not speaking as your officer," Seven remarked reasonably. "I am speaking as your spouse ... the person who loves you and knows immediately when something is bothering you."

The captain inhaled slowly. "Here and now is not the time to pursue this. Especially considering that we're both on duty, Lieutenant."

"If being in Starfleet means that I am not allowed to voice my concerns to you when I have the opportunity, then I shall resign my commission on the spot," Seven responded with great conviction and no little annoyance. "You may have been reluctant to share your feelings with me on various occasions in public. I have adapted to that and even learned to understand it, but you have never before used the excuse of my new position to avoid me in private." Another pause. "I will not tolerate such an action on your part, Kathryn."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Indeed," she said dryly, struck suddenly by an odd sense of amusement at the strong stand her partner was taking, even as she was warmed by its fierceness. "I'll keep that in mind."

She saw her partner inch closer. "Kathryn? I do not mean to challenge your professional authority ... I am simply worried about you."

"Maybe I just don't feel like talking about it," the captain tried, feeling an unfamiliar sort of pain close her throat. "Not even to you."

Seven was standing just behind her now, the captain able to detect the warmth from that lean, lanky form. She half expected the young woman to touch her, but Seven didn't ... at least, not yet.

"I can accept that. I readily comprehend the concept of working thoughts and ideas out in one's own mind before wishing to share. If that is the case, simply tell me ... but please, do not use my rank in Starfleet to create separation between us."

Unable to deny the charge, Janeway turned to face the young woman, having to tilt her head back slightly to look into the pale eyes. "I'm sorry. That was unfair of me, but you also have to respect my need to be captain, even with you."

"If what bothers you is related to Starfleet or ship's business, then I shall," Seven told her softly, studying Janeway's face. "However, you and I have been together long enough for me to be able to speculate with some accuracy as to when it is personal rather than professional." She quirked an eyebrow. "I believe this is personal, which is the reason I came in to offer my support."

Janeway winced. "You do know how to make a woman feel guilty, don't you?"

Seven eyed her narrowly. "That was not my intention." She looked her up and down. "Have I erred in my conclusions, Kathryn? Is this professional rather than personal?"

Janeway shook her head. "Maybe that doesn't have a clear answer, Annika. Perhaps what disturbs me personally is based on my professional life." The corner of her mouth curled slightly. "What are the rules, then?"

Seven considered that carefully. "I do not know. All I know is that I love you, and when you hurt, I hurt. I only wish to comfort and protect you, regardless of the cause of your disturbance."

Stated so bluntly and honestly, it shattered any command mask Janeway might have hoped to maintain. "Damn, you just don't fight fair."

Seven's strength surrounded her, pulling her close. "I was unaware we were fighting, Kathryn." She rested her chin on the top of the captain's head.

Janeway surrendered, bringing her arms up to slip around the Borg's slender waist, relinquishing the last of her reluctance to give up her command presence in that warm embrace. "We're not." She sighed. "I guess I'm just taking my bad mood out on you, darling." She turned her head and pressed her cheek against the taller woman's chest, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry, and before you ask, no, I don't know what's causing my bad mood, or why I'm feeling like this. I just am."

She felt Seven's lips brush over her forehead. "Then I am content to hold you ... until it passes."

Which sounded like a perfectly good idea to Janeway.

Of course, maintaining a consistent speed of warp 9.9 would have reduced the journey from DS9 to Earth to approximately thirty-six hours, but starships were limited to the lower warp factors unless it was an extreme emergency. It was a restriction imposed upon Federation vessels because of a discovery that subspace rifts formed due to excessive use of warp drives in the more trafficked areas of the Alpha Quadrant. USS Voyager had actually been the first vessel to utilize the new variable-geometry warp nacelles that prevented damage to the subspace continuum, and allowed it to go faster than warp 5 without causing harm. However, in the case where there wasn't a need to move quickly, such vessels were expected to limit themselves to the 'speed limit', simply out of courtesy to the other ships in the Federation.

Ro smiled faintly to herself. The new Enterprise-E also deployed subspace-safe warp nacelles ... otherwise, it never would have been able to get to Deep Space 9 in such an expedient manner when the slipstream drive had deposited Voyager in the Bajoran sector, rather than its originally intended coordinates outside Earth's solar system where the flagship had been waiting for them. She knew that Picard had flaunted the regulations in order to rendezvous with her, though the official story going around the 'Fleet was that the Enterprise's captain had wanted to be first in line to recruit from the crew of seasoned personnel Voyager had brought home.

Everyone was quite happy to be back to using the traditional warp drive, with the possible exception of Harry Kim who always seemed in a hurry these days. He was a big believer in the advantages of the slipstream drive, and Ro suspected that his first objective after taking his new post at Starfleet Ship Design would be to push for more vessels to adopt the experimental propulsion system. It would mean having to improve the current sensor and navigational technology, of course, but Ro thought the young man would probably succeed in his efforts. What it would mean to the future of Federation starships remained to be seen.

Ro turned her head as the turbolift door opened and the beta shift entered the bridge. She turned the helm over to Ensign Culhean with little formality, and headed immediately to the ready room. She had barely touched the chime when the door slid open. Obviously, the captain had been on her way out, and Janeway blinked in surprise when she saw the Bajoran.

"Lieutenant?"

"Captain, if I could have a word with you?" Ro asked respectfully.

Janeway hesitated, then moved aside to allow the Bajoran passage into the ready room.

"Of course," she said graciously. Ro noticed as she moved past Janeway, that the captain had quirked an eyebrow at the Borg, somehow indicating that she would be delayed. Seven responded by dipping her head in acknowledgment before entering the turbolift. The exchange left Ro considerably impressed with the ease and expediency of the silent communication between the couple.

"Please, have a seat," Janeway offered, moving behind her desk where she sat down. She folded her hands on the flat surface and gave Ro her undivided attention. "What can I do for you?"

Ro took a deep breath, aware that she had to be very convincing. "Captain, I've been doing a lot of thinking since our return to the Alpha Quadrant became imminent. I'm beginning to wonder if my initial decision to pursue a career in Starfleet Intelligence is the right one, after all."

Janeway raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Indeed." She waited expectantly for further clarification.

Careful now, Ro warned herself.

"To be honest," the Bajoran said with all sincerity, "I truly didn't expect to return to the Federation so quickly, and now that we have, I'm forced to make some cold, hard decisions about my future. I think my options need to be reassessed."

Janeway tilted her head. "A career in Intelligence doesn't sound so appealing now?" Her tone was curious rather than sarcastic.

However, Ro also heard the expectation in the captain's voice, the subtle thread of what could be construed as triumph, and she struggled to maintain her earnest expression. Janeway had set out to train Ro as a first officer, despite the Bajoran's reluctance to pursue a command, and it was obvious that the captain believed her efforts were finally about to pay off. A part of Ro was squirming in revulsion at this deception, yet she knew she didn't have much choice in the matter. Picard had been very specific about how dangerous it would be for Janeway to know everything that was going on regarding Section 31, particularly at this moment in time. Since both the Bajoran and Janeway had been out of contact with how things were in Starfleet, while Picard had been right in the middle of it, Ro had to trust his authority in this.

"It's not that a career in Intelligence no longer interests me," the Bajoran responded, allowing her tone to become a little rueful, giving the implication that she was reluctant to acknowledge that she might have been wrong. "It's just that I discovered I enjoyed the various duties you had me perform. Not all of them, of course, but enough to make me realize that perhaps I wasn't allowing myself the time to consider the rewards of being on a command track."

Janeway looked thoughtful, her level blue-grey eyes becoming darker. Idly, Ro decided that her captain was really a most attractive woman, with that formidable gaze and auburn hair laced with fiery highlights. Janeway's personality and command presence radiated from her compact form like a palpable energy, one that impressed even as it intimidated, and it occurred to the Bajoran that she only encountered the like once before ... in the person of Jean-Luc Picard, commander of Starfleet's flagship.

"Lt. Ro, I must say, I'm surprised to hear this," Janeway remarked finally, after having scrutinized the officer intently. "You seemed so certain that a career in security was what you wanted."

Ro handled that one as she would a fully-armed photon torpedo, injecting a bit of dry humor in her tone. "Believe me, I'm a little surprised to be sitting here, discussing it with you." She took a breath and leaned forward slightly in her chair. "Captain, I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, including decisions where I was absolutely certain of the outcome, only to find out later that they were grave errors in judgment. I didn't expect to enjoy performing the duties of first officer, but I do, and it's possible I'm letting yet another opportunity slip away by not pursuing that."

Janeway nodded somberly. "I see." She tilted her head. "So you wish to explore the avenue of command a little further?"

Ro was relieved. Janeway was really making this easy for her.

"I am. Perhaps if things hadn't come to an end so fast in the Delta Quadrant, I would have been more certain of my choices. However, our return was unexpected, and now things are happening far more quickly than I would like."

Janeway allowed a little of her command mask to slip, her eyes lightening. "I certainly understand what you mean, Lieutenant," she said, with a touch of rueful agreement. "As my spouse noted to me not long ago, things may not have been easy in the Delta Quadrant, but they were a great deal simpler. Life was more straightforward."

Ro wondered when Seven had told the captain that, and what circumstances had surrounded such an admission from the Borg.

"Captain, I know you've been pushing me onto a command path, and certainly I've done my best to resist," she said, trying not to lay it on too thickly. "But it's possible that you knew best where my talents could be utilized to their fullest extent. In either case, I don't want to reject a course of action totally or so quickly, regardless of how fast things seem to be moving now."

The captain leaned back, linking her fingers over her stomach.

"What exactly do you have in mind, Lieutenant?" Getting to the heart of the matter.

Ro steadied herself, meeting those bright eyes squarely. "I wish to remain under your command, at least until I figure out what exactly is best for me."

Janeway blinked, surprised. "Ro, I won't have a starship command much longer. I'm accepting an administrative position while Voyager is in dry-dock."

Ro dipped her head. "I'm aware of that, Captain, but you'll need an assistant, and it is required that all command candidates undergo a tour of duty in administration. This seems like the perfect opportunity for me to try out that aspect of first officer training."

Janeway took a deep breath. "I don't even know what exactly I'll be doing yet. Or what post I'll be accepting."

"I'm sure that wherever it is, it will be a useful learning experience for me."

Janeway eyed her keenly. "Why me?"

Ro smiled faintly. "Do you want the ego-massaging reason I'm supposed to give you, or the real reason?" she countered, knowing that if she had been younger or if the circumstances had been different, this would have been the place for her to step in with fawning praise and strokes to the captain's vanity in an attempt to ingratiate herself with her.

Janeway returned the smile, reminded that this was not an inexperienced woman she was dealing with here, nor was Ro some green cadet convinced she was going to be the next great starship captain ... the next James T. Kirk.

"I'm not adverse to being complimented," the captain said with dry humor. "But I think we can dispense with the comments about how I'm the only captain who could mentor you in this."

Ro dipped her head. "You are, however, the only commanding officer that seems capable of accepting my background. As well as the only one who is able to utilize my skills in the most expedient and efficient manner." She lifted her chin. "I don't give my loyalty lightly, Captain Janeway. It would be far too difficult for me to start all over with another commanding officer in pursuing this kind of path. You've already laid most of the groundwork for me in this, and apparently have little problem in believing in me, even when I have difficulty believing in myself. I would be foolish to choose any other captain as my mentor."

Janeway studied her soberly, those sharp eyes assessing her with keen interest.

"What of Picard?"

Ro did not swallow, although her throat felt dry. Careful, she urged herself again.

"I have a great deal of respect for Captain Picard," she said as honestly as possible. "But our past, and the choices I made while under his command, have served to ... complicate things. You and I have a much smoother working relationship, one that allows for my ... personality in a way that Picard cannot. Besides, he hasn't offered me an opportunity to follow a command path. You have."

The captain considered that seriously.

"I can't promise that you'll get the best command candidate experience with me," Janeway said finally. "Particularly since I've decided to use this upcoming year to assess certain personal priorities in my life."

Ro didn't quite know what that meant, but she was aware that the captain was wavering to her side. "With all due respect, Captain, where else would I go? Besides you and Picard, I don't believe I'm familiar with any other captain currently serving in Starfleet. I'm not sure if you've noticed this, but a lot of the officers commanding the ships docked at DS9 were younger than I am. I'm not sure how well my training would advance with any of those particular captains."

Janeway smiled. "I have noticed a decided lowering of the average age in the senior ranks. I also agree that my experience would offer a certain type of training that you wouldn't receive with the current wave of command personnel." She looked away briefly, then her jaw firmed, indicating she had made her decision. "Very well, Lieutenant, I'll arrange to have you transferred over to my personal command. If you decide later that being my adjunct is not what you need to pursue a career in command at this particular time, it will be easy enough to transfer you somewhere where you can find what you need."

"Thank you, Captain," Ro said, grateful and relieved.

Janeway tilted her head. "I don't suppose it hurts that I'll probably be staying on Earth, near Mars, which is where B'Elanna is posted," she teased lightly, somewhat playful now that the decision was made.

"No, ma'am," Ro admitted with a grin. "That doesn't hurt at all."

Janeway stood up and leaned on her hands. "If you have no further questions, Lieutenant, I believe we can consider this matter concluded."

"Yes, Captain," Ro said, also standing. "Thank you."

"I look forward to working with you in the future."

"Yes, Captain," the Bajoran said, and tried to make her exit from the ready room casual and unassuming.

She was quite sure that no one was aware of the cold sweat that had broken out over her body beneath her uniform, nor the way her stomach was turning gradual, queasy flips. She entered the turbolift and took a slow, cleansing breath.

The first hurdle had been passed. Wherever Janeway went in the near future, so would the captain's assistant. Ro Laren would be in a perfect position to monitor her movements ... as well as those of the captain's spouse, Seven of Nine.

"Kathryn?" she queried, placing the strips of chicken-flavored protein into the hot oil simmering in the wok.

"Sorry I'm late, darling," Janeway remarked, moving over to join the Borg behind the counter, reaching up to kiss her on the cheek. "Lt. Ro wanted to see me about her future career plans."

"Indeed," Seven remarked, as the captain released her in order to head for the bedroom to change out of her uniform. "In what way?"

"She wants to continue to be my command candidate," Janeway said, raising her voice to carry it out into the living area. "I'm transferring her over to my personal command."

Seven considered that as she used a wooden utensil to stir the rapidly frying strips of simulated meat, adding garlic powder and ginger to the dish. Beyond the sizzling sounds of oil and cooking food, she could hear splashing water along with the other indications of her partner shedding her command persona. The Borg smiled faintly as Janeway finally joined her, dressed in a simple blouse and slacks, perching on a stool on the other side of the counter. The Borg promptly handed her spouse a small glass of wine which the older woman sipped with evident enjoyment.

"I'm going to miss this," Janeway said regretfully, peering into the azure depths of the beverage which had been distilled here on Voyager in an illicit still in the biometrics lab. "Sometimes I think our biometrics department missed their calling."

Seven smiled in understanding. "That is the last of the opened bottle. The other two bottles have been packed away." She gestured in the direction of the containers stacked neatly in the corner of the living area, ready for transport to a storage facility in San Francisco as soon as they docked at Earth Station McKinley. The two women had been packing steadily since leaving Deep Space 9, and now, only the civilian clothes they would be needing on Earth remained for last minute placement in their carryall bags.

Janeway followed the young woman's gaze, and a small expression of sorrow crossed the elegant features. "You know, you were right about how hard it would be to leave these quarters. There were a lot of happy times here."

"We will adapt." Seven added the carrots to the oil, having slid the chicken up the sloped sides of the wok. After the carrot slices were done, the rest would be added very quickly, cooking almost as fast as she could add them to the oil. She took the brief time before that to program the fried rice into the replicator, along with some egg rolls. "Are you hungry, Kathryn?"

"Starved," the captain told her, surreptitiously snagging a few mushroom slices to nibble on as the rest of their dinner was prepared. "A salad almost six hours ago doesn't really sustain a body very well."

Seven frowned as she returned to the counter, tossing in the rest of the vegetables and stirring the mixture. "You need to eat a series of smaller meals throughout the day as you work. Especially when you accept your new post and I am not available to monitor your intake."

"It will be different, us not working together," Janeway noted, refusing to be drawn into a discussion of her eating habits. She studied her partner closely. "Are you ready for that?"

"It will not be as enjoyable as working on the same starship with you." The Borg added the last of her spices and sauce to the stirfry, covering it with a large lid as she turned down the heat. "Tell me more about Lt. Ro."

Janeway stood up, going over to the replicator where she retrieved the dishes while Seven began to clean up her work area. As the captain set the table, she related the conversation she had shared with the Bajoran in the ready room.

Seven frowned faintly as she carried over the bowl of chicken-fried rice and the plate of egg rolls, placing them in the middle of the table. "That is odd. B'Elanna gave no indication to me that Ro Laren was considering such a position."

Janeway flashed Seven an arch look as she took her seat and began to spoon rice onto her plate. "Perhaps B'Elanna is not as keen on her gossip as she used to be." She laughed at Seven's skeptical expression. "Or maybe she's merely learning discretion. After all, it's not necessary that you know everything that's going on with that couple, despite the fact they're our friends."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed, scooping out some of the chicken and vegetables, spreading them over her rice. "However, I am accustomed to B'Elanna sharing such personal details with me."

Janeway shrugged, chewing her first mouthful of her dinner with every indication of pleasure in its flavor. "Until I agreed to transfer Ro to my personal command, there was no news to share." She raised her fork. "By the way, darling, this is tremendous."

"Thank you," Seven said idly, but her thoughts were not on her food or the captain's compliment. She became aware that she had paused in her motion, her utensil paused midway between the plate and her mouth.

"What's wrong?" Janeway's expression was soft as she regarded the young woman.

Seven shook her head. "Nothing that can be altered. Just that I will miss being on Voyager and being a daily part of my friends' lives. The thought of it strikes me at random, and I am left feeling ... unhappy about it."

"You'll still be a part of B'Elanna's life, especially if you choose a posting near Earth or Mars."

"Regardless of where we are posted, it will not be the same. We will not be working together."

Janeway stared at her, her features compassionate. "That doesn't mean your new position will be worse, either ... just different." She smiled. "You know, we can reassure each other until we reach Earth's Orbital Station, but unless we let ourselves believe it, we're just wasting our breath."

Seven felt her lips quirk as the humor of the situation was pointed out. "You are correct. It is illogical to offer you reassurance when I will not accept any for myself."

"Let's just try to enjoy these final hours on our ship."

"Agreed." Seven finished her meal quietly, glancing up occasionally to meet the captain's eyes, warmed by their regard.

After dinner, Janeway helped her clear away the dirty dishes, then took Jake out for a walk while Seven curled up on the sofa with padds containing information about the Daystrom Institute which was located in Helsinki. Seven actually had family located there ... on the Hansen side ... and she wondered what it would be like to work in that facility, where some of the best minds of the Federation were gathered. It also occurred to her that if she did accept a posting with their astrometrics department, she could take advantage of her proximity to pursue courses in subjects unfamiliar to her, increasing her knowledge in the areas of exobiology and biometrics.

She noticed that Janeway was taking an exceptionally long time with the dog, and a few hours passed before the pair finally returned to their quarters. Seven suspected that these lengthy walks in the evening were her spouse's way of making her farewells to her vessel, but she did not say anything to that effect to the captain. She merely smiled faintly as Janeway unhooked the leash from Jake's collar and drifted over to the couch where she stretched out on the cushions, interrupting the Borg's studies as she placed her head on Seven's lap.

The Borg was amused at the deliberate intrusion, lifting the padd out of the way, though she continued to peruse it with concentrated intent. She did allow her right hand to drop onto the captain's shoulder where she lightly stroked Janeway's auburn hair, toying with the soft strands, finding the caress of silken hair to be soothing to her. The captain closed her eyes, relaxing under the tender attention, a half smile curving her lips. Every so often, Seven would glance down at her partner, checking to see if Janeway had fallen asleep, but every time she did, the captain would sense it and open her eyes, offering the young woman an engaging grin and a raised eyebrow. The third time it happened, the Borg set aside her padd and leaned down, brushing her lips over those of her spouse.

"You are attempting to distract me."

"I am not," Janeway protested in mild outrage at the accusation. "I'm just lying here, minding my own business."

"Indeed." Seven's tone indicated that she did not believe her for a second.

"Since you're distracted anyway," Janeway added cheerfully, "why don't you take me to bed?"

Seven smiled. "It is too early to sleep."

"Who said anything about sleep?"

"Ah, my mistake."

The captain chuckled and sat up, but to the Borg's surprise, she didn't stand in preparation of going to the bedroom. Instead, she moved over and straddled Seven's lap, knees bent as she bracketed the young woman's hips with them. She wrapped her arms around Seven's neck and dipped her head, kissing the young woman passionately.

"Of course," she murmured, drawing back to look down into the Borg's pale eyes, "if you really need to work...???"

"Not at all," Seven noted, aware she was being teased.  She slipped her hands beneath the captain's blouse, touching the warm, smooth skin of her sides and stomach.

"I'd hate to prevent you from your duty, Lieutenant," Janeway persisted, pressing closer.

"Captain," Seven said, unbuttoning her spouse's blouse, vaguely surprised to discover that Janeway was wearing no undergarment. "Cease your attempts to dissuade me."

Janeway laughed as Seven leaned forward to bury her face in the captain's warm cleavage, nuzzling the warm valley between the small swells. Janeway hugged the Borg's head to her chest, cuddling her lovingly, and Seven took the moment to breathe in the woman's intoxicating fragrance, listening to the gentle thud of her heart beneath her lips.

"I do love you, my darling," Janeway whispered into Seven's hair.

"I love you, too, Kathryn." Seven hugged her. "Hold on to me," she requested quietly, gathering her spouse up in her arms. As she rose smoothly from the sofa, Janeway clung to her by wrapping her legs around the young woman's waist. The Borg heard a tiny gasp from the captain, the same combination of surprise and pleasure still present after all this time at her spouse's casual display of physical prowess, and as Seven carried her precious burden into the bedroom, she nuzzled Janeway's neck tenderly.

"Did you have something particular in mind for this evening?" she asked, voice muffled against the silky skin.

Janeway hummed softly in pleasure. "I thought we'd make it up as we went along."

"A most intriguing plan," Seven noted approvingly, bending over to lower the captain gently onto the bed. "Especially since you can be quite creative at times."

Janeway smiled. "I do my best."

Seven returned her smile as she straightened and pulled her t-shirt over her head, tossing it back onto the lounger. Janeway linked her fingers behind her head, and watched with every evidence of appreciation as the young woman continued to disrobe in front of her. Conscious of the scrutiny, Seven slid her pants, along with her undergarments, over her hips and down her long legs, stepping out of them neatly. She left them crumpled on the floor, realizing that tidying their quarters could wait until after the couple had finished with their immediate interests, and eyed her partner, gaze roaming freely over Janeway's breasts, which were fully exposed by the unbuttoned blouse.

"Do you want me to finish undressing you?"

The captain inhaled deeply, her chest rising, almost as if she wished to display her breasts to better effect. "You should always finish what you start." Her voice had become very husky.

Seven smiled faintly, reaching down to grasp Janeway's ankle so that she could pull off her boot, before repeating the action with the other. Then, Seven placed her hands on the captain's waist and tugged down her slacks and underwear in one motion, revealing the thin triangle of auburn at the juncture of Janeway's thighs. She bent down briefly, depositing a kiss on the soft cushion of curled hair before tossing the clothes aside. taking a moment to look down at her partner with possessive pleasure, her pale eyes moved over Janeway with palpable intensity. The captain responded to the desire smoldering in Seven's eyes with a ruddy blush, and she rose to her knees where she shrugged out of her blouse and dropped it casually on the deck next to Seven's discarded clothes.

"You are very beautiful, Kathryn," Seven told her with the utmost gravity as she carefully put her hands on Janeway's waist, peering into the deep pools of the captain's blue eyes. The other woman raised her chin a little, as if to argue, then offered a vaguely rueful, yet pleased, expression, reaching up to place her hands lightly on Seven's shoulders, drawing her fingertips lightly over the young woman's skin in a tantalizing caress.

"Thank you, darling."

Seven inhaled slowly, then pulled her spouse fully into her arms, uttering a groan of sheer pleasure at the sensation of warm, soft curves pressing against her body. She inclined her head, closing her eyes at the touch of Janeway's mouth against her own, tasting her partner's sweetness and passion, absorbed in being with the woman she loved. She acknowledged with a distant part of herself that the universe could come to an end in that moment and it would not matter because she was exactly where she belonged ... in Kathryn's arms.

They kissed deeply and passionately for several moments, holding each other tightly, before Janeway finally drew back, her respiration unsteady. She swallowed audibly and rested her forehead against Seven's.

"It never becomes ordinary," she said, a hint of wonder in her tone.

"Kathryn?"

"Being with you," Janeway revealed, raising her eyes to meet Seven's. "Being in your arms. After all this time, it still thrills me completely to have you hold me like this."

Seven considered that, puzzled. "Is it supposed to become 'ordinary'?" Her hands slid languidly over the captain's back and sides, down to lightly cup the soft buttocks, delighting in the silkiness of Janeway's skin and the warmth of her body.

"Not in fantasies," Janeway admitted, holding the gaze, "but in reality, it usually does. It becomes less than what it was in the beginning ... familiar, mundane, regardless of how much you care about someone ... almost as if time wears down the initial passion. With you, however, it just gets better with every encounter."

Seven tilted her head. "Thank you," she said, unsure if that was the proper response.

Janeway smiled and continued to run her fingertips over Seven, featherlight on the young woman's flesh which tingled pleasantly in the wake of the provocative touch. "It's because you never allow it to become ordinary, you know," she said thoughtfully, as if she were figuring it out as she spoke. "You make me the center of your universe every time we're together, and I can't help but respond to that. You're never 'just going through the motions', or thinking of something else when we're intimate ... when you're holding me, I always know it's me you want to make love to."

"Who else would I want to make love to?" Seven was still not entirely clear on what her partner was saying.

"Exactly," Janeway told her and kissed her again, which did not clarify things one little bit to the young woman, but the captain's lips on hers felt so wonderful that Seven decided she didn't really require clarification ... at least, not at the moment.

"Darling?" Janeway whispered some time later.

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"Promise me that you'll never treat our lovemaking as ordinary ... because that would probably make me treat it that way, and that would be horrid."

Seven raised an eyebrow as she eased the woman in her arms down onto the bed, settling next to her spouse in the nest of pillows and bedding. "I do not believe that would ever happen." She kissed Janeway's throat, then the cleft in her chin, before raising her head to look down into the blue-grey gaze. "There is nothing that would ever make you 'ordinary' to me, Kathryn."

"Absolutely nothing."

It made her feel as if she had little control, something that was anathema to her at the best of times. She was also disturbed by how much returning as an active member of Starfleet's rank and file was beginning to feel restrictive to her. She was used to going her own way, to choosing her own path while in the Delta Quadrant, and now, being called upon to account for every decision with varied forms and documents, needing to ease back into a routine of reporting to Starfleet on a constant basis, gave her the sensation of being constantly held back. Janeway didn't think she had felt that way when she first became a starship captain, but there was no question it was certainly prevalent in her thoughts now.

Then, there was the fact that Voyager was earmarked for an overhaul in a Utopia Planitia dockyard, leaving Janeway without a vessel any longer ... as if she were a child having to return a toy that she had been allowed to play with briefly, but due to her clumsiness, wasn't allowed to have anymore. It was a feeling that had developed since leaving Deep Space 9, and grew in intensity the closer they got to Earth. Sometimes it was as if she were losing touch with all the vital elements that had been woven into the fabric of her life for the past seven years. The only thing that remained stable was her relationship with Seven.

How long before that started to change, as well? she asked herself unhappily, staring out into the greyness of their bedroom. It had not escaped her attention that, recently, she had developed a distinct tendency to cling to Seven rather than just hold her. Even now, lying in bed next to her, she was wrapped so tightly around the Borg, it was amazing that Seven was still able to breathe, let alone sleep as peacefully as she was. It indicated a neediness in herself that Janeway didn't think was particularly positive ... or attractive ... and she made an effort to relax her embrace, easing the tight grip of her arms and legs on the young woman.

She forced herself to roll away from the warm body entirely, slipping from between the sheets and standing next to the bed. She paused, waiting to see if she had disturbed her partner, but as Seven continued to slumber, Janeway pulled on the robe that had been tossed casually across the lounger, and left the bedroom. Moving quietly, she went out to the living area where Jake was stretched out on the sofa, and she pushed him aside so that she could take a seat in the corner. He promptly flopped his rusty head on her lap, and she smiled as she scratched behind his ears.

"At least, going home will be good for you," she murmured quietly to him. He was a young dog, requiring a lot of exercise, and while many on the ship had made a point of playing with him, including the children, he really needed wide open spaces in which to run. The Agricultural Park where she had grown up, and where her mother still lived, would be perfect for him ... assuming the living arrangements could be properly worked out.

Thoughts of the white farmhouse where she had spent her childhood, made her think of Gretchen, and she took a breath. In a very short time, she would be seeing her mother again, as well as her younger sister, Phoebe. They had been communicating with letters and recordings for the past few months of course, but it wasn't the same as actually being able to put her arms around them. Not that she had been keeping up on her correspondence as much as she should, she reminded herself with a touch of shame. She still had a letter from her mother sitting on her workstation across the living area that she hadn't yet managed to find the time to access. Perhaps it was because a part of her wanted to get all the news firsthand, directly from the people she loved rather than have to read it on an impersonal padd. She felt a lump rise in her throat and she swallowed hard against it, aggravated by her unsettled emotions.

I should be excited about this, she thought furiously. I should be looking forward to being home, to showing Seven where I grew up. I should be looking to the future with optimism and hope, ready to face whatever challenge Starfleet next offers me. I'm acting as if my career is over, when in fact, it's only been interrupted for the past seven years. It's beyond time for me to get it back on track.

Yet, when she looked out the viewport at the stars, she was struck with a profound and deeply personal longing to be back in the Delta Quadrant. It was such an odd and terrifying feeling, she wasn't sure what to make of it. She inhaled deeply and shook her head.

Enough of this, she told herself sternly. She was just unsettled by all the recent ... and rapid ... changes she and her ship had been going through. Once she had accepted a new posting, once she and Seven had decided on a place to live, once the young Borg had chosen her own posting, things would settle into a normal routine again. She forced herself to believe it, telling herself that, while her anxieties over the changes in her life were to be expected, she couldn't let them control her. She was a more composed person than that. Damnit, she was a starship captain.

Without a starship, her little voice noted snidely, and she crushed the thought into nothingness. It would only be for a short time, she reminded herself sternly. Chances were, she'd be so busy with personal pursuits and her temporary position in administration, she wouldn't notice how quickly time would pass. She didn't know why these pessimistic thoughts were suddenly dominating her mind, especially since she had been so optimistic in the weeks leading up to their return. It was probably just the lack of established parameters in her professional responsibilities at the moment, she decided. Once she had spoken to Starfleet Command directly, her next course of action would be made clear to her, and she would have direction in her life again.

Sometimes, she thought restlessly, it seemed as if she needed structure and discipline in her daily routine more than Seven did. She was startled when her partner abruptly appeared in the doorway, almost as if in direct response to her thoughts, dressed in a crimson robe thrown casually about her shoulders.

"Kathryn?" Seven moved over to the sofa where she displaced Jake onto the floor. She sat next to Janeway and drew the smaller woman into a warm and comforting embrace.

Janeway was surprised. "I thought you were asleep," she muttered as she snuggled into the strong arms, resting her head on her partner's shoulder.

"I was." Seven paused. "Are your thoughts troubled?"

Janeway inhaled slowly. "They were, but I'm fine now," she lied. She rubbed the Borg lightly on the stomach. "Thank you for worrying about me, darling, but it's not necessary. I'm just having some last minute jitters about going home."

Seven took a moment to think about that. "I do not understand, Kathryn. You have been anticipating this return for such a long time, yet now that it is happening, you seem ... less happy than I assumed you would be."

Janeway sighed softly. "I think it's all the good-byes, darling. Maybe it would have been different had we managed to reach our initial return coordinates, and gone directly to Earth rather than ending up in the Bajoran sector. I think that spending time on DS9, where we lost so many of the crew to other ships, has left me feeling out of sorts. Instead of one major transition, this return is happening in a series of small yet emotionally draining stages, and that's been difficult for me. I'm sure that once we're back on Earth, I won't feel so unsettled."

"Perhaps." She ran her fingers lightly up and down Janeway's arm. "I wish I knew how to ease your concerns."

Janeway smiled and hugged her. "You just have to be aware that being with you helps me in so many ways."

She felt the Borg's lips brush over her forehead. "I love you, Kathryn. I want to do more to help you. Is there anything you need?"

Janeway hesitated, then looked up into the face of her spouse wistfully. "Would you think I was insane if I told you I felt like playing a game of Velocity?"

"Now?" Seven was obviously taken aback.

"Crazy, isn't it?" Janeway said ruefully.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Merely ... surprising." She tilted her head. "In fact, you haven't wanted to play Velocity since your nanoprobes were removed."

Janeway grinned crookedly. "Because I knew I would eventually lose my undefeated streak if I started playing again. I wasn't anxious to find out how that feels."

"Do you really wish to discover that sensation tonight?"

Janeway considered it. "Who says I would necessarily discover it tonight? You've never beaten me."

Seven frowned, then eyed her narrowly. "Very well, Kathryn, if there is a free holodeck, I will play with you."

Janeway smiled sunnily at her, and as Seven went into the bedroom to dress in her workout clothes, Janeway accessed her work console and determined that there was a free holodeck ... not surprising after the loss of so many crewmembers, and the fact that half of them were on duty at the moment, while the rest were probably asleep. She returned to the bedroom to dress in her own Velocity outfit, then picked up her phaser and met Seven at the door.

The corridors were quiet and generally empty as they made their way to the holodeck. They took a little while to warm up before starting the first round, playing with far more hesitation than they had expected. Velocity was a game that combined accuracy with a phaser and the ability to calculate angles and reactions of a glowing, holographic disc. A point was won when a player could not shoot the disc within a prescribed period of time, or if the disc touched on any area of a player's person. Janeway was rusty after so long, but so was Seven, and because the captain relied primarily on experience and skill rather than physically overpowering her opponent, she was able to regain her game much quicker than the Borg. She easily beat Seven in the first round, ten to four, subconsciously feeling a sense of control return to her, as if being able to defeat an opponent during a sporting event meant she would be able to defeat anything else she had to face in the future.

"Go again?" she asked, smiling as she paused to sip from the water bottle, her eyes bright. "Make the match the best two out of three?"

Seven regarded her, amusement lightening her narrow features. "You are increasing your chances of ending your undefeated streak,"

"Not if you don't start playing better," Janeway responded in the sort of mild tone she knew aggravated her partner.

The Borg cast her a sharp look, then smiled faintly. "Two out of three."

Seven managed to control her shots better in the second round, though it was a very close encounter, and twenty well-played and lengthy points later, they were tied at ten. Neither woman bothered to offer the option of calling it a draw, and quickly set up for the final point, knees bent, phasers lifted, facing each other with narrowed eyes as the disc settled into the ready position between them. The captain knew she had to win the entire thing with this next point, or she'd be in trouble. Her enthusiasm, so strong at the beginning, as well as her endurance, had eroded away steadily under the young woman's increasing confidence and shot-making. Seven was starting to dominate the smaller woman with her speed and strength and Janeway honestly doubted that she would be able to make it through a decisive third round, let alone win it.

The captain took a deep breath and readied herself, waiting for the disc to turn either blue or red that would determine who would have the first shot. If it turned red, she would fire directly at its center, hoping to angle it directly into Seven before she could dodge. Of course, if it turned blue, she had better be prepared to move quickly because Seven would have the same plan to send it in Janeway's direction. As the captain crouched there, waiting for the round to begin, it occurred to her to wonder what would happen if she fired immediately when the round began, before she took the split second to determine the color? If it were blue, and her beam struck the disc before Seven's phaser fire, then Janeway would lose the point, thus giving the Borg the match. However, if it were red, she would have acquired a split second of advantage. Or if it was indeed blue, but Seven managed to fire before Janeway ... which was possible because of her greater visual acuity ... then Janeway's beam would still impact the disc an instant afterward, and send it rebounding in Seven's direction, for which the younger woman might not be prepared.

Two out of the three possible outcomes would win the point and thus the match for her, she decided, while only one possibility would lose the round. She was firing almost as soon as she finished making the decision, observing the disc intently as it settled into the start position between the women. She wasn't sure what color it actually turned, but her beam struck the disc squarely, and sent it spinning directly into Seven's chest before the taller woman could dodge. There was a pause, an instant as the Borg looked completely dumbfounded, and Janeway waited to see if she had guessed wrong or had fired too quickly.

"Point to Janeway. Janeway wins the round eleven to ten. Match to Janeway, two rounds to zero."

Seven stared at her.

"How did you know it would be red?" Her voice was edged with outrage.

Janeway grinned. "I didn't," she admitted, straightening from her firing position, dropping her arm to dangle the phaser to her side. She brushed a wet strand of hair from her forehead. "I took a chance."

"You risked the entire round on a 'chance'?" Seven queried, reaching down to retrieve the water bottle sitting unobtrusively next to a support beam. She sipped from it as she watched the captain use a towel to wipe the perspiration from her face and neck.

Janeway flashed her a grin as she draped the cloth around her shoulders. "I had nothing to lose, really. I was already up a round, so if I guessed incorrectly, I still had a chance to win the match in the third. However, if I guessed right, I won the whole thing in two. It was a calculated risk." She didn't reveal how doubtful she was of making it through a third round.

Seven raised an eyebrow, taking another sip from the bottle. "A 'calculated risk'," she repeated thoughtfully, her expression turning to one of approval. "I shall remember that tactic in the future."

Janeway took the water bottle from her and tipped it up, the cool water slipping down her parched throat with an almost sensual pleasure. She swallowed several times, then took a breath, wiping her mouth delicately with the corner of the towel. "In any event, I think I'm finally ready for bed, love. After a shower, of course."

Seven nodded. "Going to bed is a wise idea, particularly since it is now 0124 hours and we are scheduled to reach McKinley Station at 1500 tomorrow afternoon."

Janeway felt her heart twinge. "Yes," she agreed, with what she hoped was a perfectly even voice, and took another long pull from the water bottle. Seven picked up on the tone, however, and stepped closer, reaching out to touch the captain on the elbow.

"You are looking forward to it, are you not?" the Borg asked, her eyes dark and unfathomable as she studied her partner.

"Of course," Janeway said, forcing a smile as she glanced at her, patting Seven on the arm. "I can't wait to see Mom and Phoebe again."

It was the rest of what was awaiting her that she was a little unsure about, but she wasn't prepared to share that with her spouse ... not yet.

As B'Elanna passed through the bedroom, she noted her lover was already in bed, huddled beneath the covers. The Klingon felt a warm feeling go through her, as it usually did at the sight of Ro Laren, and she smiled faintly as she entered the ensuite where she removed her uniform and took a quick shower. The warm water quickly washed away the grime of a sixteen-hour shift, and she yawned widely as she joined the Bajoran in the bed.

She knew something was wrong from the stiffness of Ro's form as soon as she wrapped herself around the taller woman from behind, and she immediately forestalled the provocative caress she had been planning to offer, turning the embrace into a comforting hug instead.

"Hey," she whispered quietly, nuzzling into the nape of the Bajoran's neck. "Not feeling well?"

There was a pause, then Ro's voice responded, quiet in the darkness. "The captain transferred me to her personal command today. I've been reassigned as her adjunct."

B'Elanna considered that. "That's good, isn't it?" she asked, feeling uncertain at the edge in her lover's tone. "That was exactly what you wanted to happen."

"I guess I'm just having a little problem with how easily I managed it." B'Elanna heard the Bajoran swallow, almost as if she had something sticking in her throat. "I sat there in the ready room and manipulated Janeway as thoroughly as anyone from Section 31 would. Where's the line, Lanna?"

The Klingon tightened her grip, feeling her lover's hurt as sharply as if it were her own. "I don't know, particularly, when it comes to people like Janeway, who tend to be so honorable and decent. She gave me an opportunity to be more than I ever thought I could be, so I guess I can understand how you would feel like you were betraying her, Laren." She paused, kissing the Bajoran's ear comfortingly. "But this is for her own good. It would be far more dangerous if she knew what was going on."

"I keep telling myself that." She swallowed again, hard. "It doesn't always help."

B'Elanna didn't quite know how to respond to that, how to reassure the Bajoran. She took a deep breath and snuggled closer to her, trying to press as much of her body surface against Ro's as possible, letting her know she was there. It did seem to be helping, B'Elanna noticed, the rigidity of Ro's muscles gradually easing in the embrace, the Bajoran woman finally shifting until she had rolled over to face the Klingon. B'Elanna brushed her lips over Ro's forehead, then down between her eyebrows, moving lovingly over the nasal ridge.

"The intelligence game is a lot easier when it's not friends one is dealing with," Ro noted finally, in a grim tone.

"No question," B'Elanna agreed. She ran her hand slowly up and down Ro's back, stroking her spine, attempting to soothe her with a physical gesture if her words proved inadequate. "But you have to do what you have to do."

Ro lay quiescent under the caress, her eyes closed, almost like a wild creature being tamed by the gentle touch. "I'm really glad you're here, Lanna. I'd forgotten how lonely this sort of thing can be."

The Klingon realized how much of an admission that was from her lover, pleased by the depth of trust it indicated.

"I'm glad I'm here, too." She hesitated. "Perhaps Starfleet Intelligence isn't where you really want to be after all."

Ro inhaled quietly. "Maybe not. It's obvious I have a real problem in not becoming personally involved in situations like this."

"So maybe you haven't deceived Janeway after all," B'Elanna suggested. "Perhaps following a command track is right for you, and becoming her assistant is the perfect opportunity for you to find out. If, in the meantime, you happen to help out Picard with his goals, as well as be in the right place to protect Janeway and Seven, then that's all for the better."

Ro looked quite thoughtful at this. "Perhaps," she said, not necessarily agreeing, but not completely dismissing the idea out of hand either. She hesitated, then opened her eyes to regard B'Elanna in the dim illumination. "You were pretty late tonight," she said, quietly changing the subject. "Are your duties in engineering becoming too much? I know you lost a lot of officers."

"It's nothing I can't handle. We'll be docking tomorrow anyway."

Ro smiled faintly. "You say that like things are suddenly going to become simple. I can't imagine anything more complicated than signing on as a senior engineer with the Utopia Planitia shipyards. There, you won't have just one ship to worry about, you'll have dozens."

B'Elanna grinned. "I suppose we'll both be a little busy. Do you know where you'll be posted?"

Ro shook her head. "I'm not sure that Janeway knows yet." Her dark eyes were shadowed, troubled. "I can't help remembering what Picard said about there being no reason for Starfleet to upgrade Voyager. It sounds like they're trying to get the ship isolated for some reason. I wonder if they have the same idea for Janeway."

B'Elanna quirked an eyebrow. "If that's the case, then I'm in a perfect position to keep an eye on the ship while you look out for the captain. I'll be able to monitor exactly how Voyager's upgrades are coming and who might be showing an extraordinary interest in the ship."

"You are, aren't you?" Ro looked pleased, yet concerned at the same time. "Lanna, this might be dangerous..."

"Stop," B'Elanna said quietly, yet with an intensity that cut through whatever Ro might have been about to say. "I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Don't try to protect me. I can handle it."

Ro exhaled slowly. "Fine," she said, but she wasn't entirely happy about it. "Just watch yourself."

B'Elanna grinned and kissed the tip of the Bajoran's nose. "You be sure to watch your own pretty little tail." She reached down to cup the area of anatomy in question. "I'd hate to see that get scorched."

Ro smiled back at her, snuggling closer. "Have you thought about where we should live?"

"I think we should apply for Starfleet housing on Mars. If Janeway stays on Earth, there's enough commuter traffic between the two planets that you can be wherever she's posted in less than an hour, while it would leave me fairly close to the shipyards." She paused. "Of course, this all depends on where Seven decides to go. If she decides she wants to go to the Vulcan Science Academy or the Trill Ministry of Technology, then all our planning is neatly screwed ... at least, as far as I'm concerned. You'll have to go where Janeway does. I have to stay on Mars and Utopia Planitia."

Ro frowned. "I don't like the thought of having to leave you."

"I know, but you have to go with Janeway. I understand that."

Ro closed her eyes and rested her head on B'Elanna's shoulder. "It will only be for a little while."

B'Elanna kissed her temple. "Don't assume the worse."

"We have to be prepared."

"Yes, but the odds are more in our favor that Seven will go with the Daystrom Institute or the Theoretical Propulsion Group. She has ties to Earth through Janeway's family and her own relatives, regardless of how she might feel about them. I also think that Seven is looking forward to a planetary lifestyle. She's spent most of her life on starships, so she'll want dirt under her feet for awhile ... at least, until the novelty wears off."

Ro nodded grimly. "I also have the feeling Starfleet will be making arrangements for her to remain where they can keep close tabs on her."

"That's my girl," B'Elanna said dryly. "Now, you're looking on the bright side."

Ro raised her head, looking at her with a startled expression, then she smiled slowly.

"Very funny."

"I try," B'Elanna allowed.

"Yes, you do," Ro agreed, nuzzling her. The Bajoran slipped her hand lightly along the Klingon's side, down to her hip, then back up again to the underside of her breast, pausing there. "Lanna?" she added in a quieter tone. "I know you're tired from your shift..."

"Not that tired," B'Elanna responded promptly, stretching lithely in the taller woman's embrace which pressed her body against Ro's in a particularly provocative fashion. "What did you have in mind?"

Ro drew her closer. "Many things," she whispered, brushing her lips along the underside of the Klingon's chin, nipping at it lightly with her strong, white teeth.

B'Elanna groaned pleasurably and wrapped her arms around the Bajoran, holding her tight as she lowered her head, seeking out her lover's mouth, and capturing it in a searing kiss of longing and need. Ro returned it passionately, her lips caressing the Klingon's, tasting B'Elanna deeply as her hands slipped possessively over the younger woman's firm, muscular body. As they rolled over, so that the Bajoran was on top of the Klingon, B'Elanna moaned again, delighting in the soft weight of her companion, in the silk soft skin sliding over hers, and the surprisingly yielding curves which were so unexpected on the lean, whipcord frame of the other woman.

Ro languidly trailed down B'Elanna's body, over her chest to her full breasts, falling upon the fat, brown nipples with avid hunger. The younger woman arched, pressing into her lover's mouth, responding eagerly to the way Ro used her lips and tongue on the sensitive flesh, to the bright edge of her teeth which raked over the tender skin, biting lightly, making her breasts tingle as chills of desire rippled through her.

"Laren," she hissed, tangling her fingers in the short, dark hair, holding the head to her lovingly. "Kahless, that feels so good."

Ro responded by increasing the intensity of her caress, her lips fastening firmly on the closest nipple and pulling deeply, sucking on it as the tip of her tongue swirled around it. The nipple hardened and lengthened from the stimulation, and the Bajoran released it to move over to the other breast, repeating the caress there before moving back. She alternated between them until B'Elanna was almost insensate from the sheer pleasure of it. The woman's warm hands stroked and played with her almost casually, flowing over sides and hips, across her stomach, then dipping down between her legs briefly with a passing touch before moving on again, teasing, enticing, inflaming the Klingon to dangerous levels.

"Laren," she begged, her head back, eyes closed, finding it difficult to draw enough air into her lungs. "Please..."

Ro granted mercy upon her, lips searing a trail down her stomach, pausing to nuzzle in the thick thatch of dark hair at the juncture of the Klingon's thighs that parted readily at the Bajoran's approach. B'Elanna gasped and groaned as she felt the warmth of her partner's mouth cover her intimate region, the talented tongue darting out to caress her dual clitori, moving luscious figure eights over the delicate flesh. Ro's hands reached down to cup the other woman's buttocks, holding her hips up as she feasted greedily in the heat and moisture, and B'Elanna spread her legs wider, welcoming her in, inviting deeper, more intimate exploration of her body, wanting her so much that it made her cry out helplessly.

"Laren..."

Ro settled on the upper ridge while she slipped a hand between their bodies and touched the lower one with her fingertip, fondling it in perfect rhythm with her tongue, the two pleasure centers overloading with stimulation. The result was immediate and overwhelming, dual bolts of desire colliding somewhere in the vicinity of B'Elanna's abdomen and racing up her neural pathways to impact in her brain in an explosion of ecstasy and rapture, tremors shuddering through her body uncontrollably.

"Kahless, I love when you do that," she rasped when the pleasure finally released her.

Ro kissed both clitori tenderly, smiling as she crawled back up the engineer's solid form where she straddled B'Elanna's hips. B'Elanna obligingly scooted up in the bed a bit, the two women shoving pillows under her back and shoulders so that her torso was supported against the head of the bed. Then, Ro settled onto the Klingon's mound, her hips beginning to undulate so that her f'lar ridges were dragged provocatively over the stimulating texture of B'Elanna's tangled triangle, bracing herself with her hands on the Klingon's shoulders. The Klingon knew that her lover found this very arousing, and she assisted by pulling Ro's upper body to her, using her mouth on the Bajoran's small, firm breasts. She was careful not to use her teeth the same way Ro did, aware that her lover required a more delicate touch than B'Elanna preferred, but she was still forceful in her caresses, unmercifully teasing and tickling the nipples as well as the ridges that radiated from each one.

Perspiration ran freely over Ro who began to tremble as she reached for her peak, and B'Elanna's hands moved over her intimately, steadying her even as she stroked her, exploring the body which had become as familiar to the engineer as her own. She knew her lover was getting close by the raggedness of her breathing, and the way her hips jerked in short, fast hunches against the Klingon. Then abruptly, the Bajoran was climaxing, a low cry initially held back behind clenched teeth, then reluctantly released as the pleasure became too much for her to resist any longer, her hands gripping B'Elanna's shoulders desperately, nails digging into the skin.

The engineer urged her on, giving her an anchor to grasp onto as she was cast adrift. Ro's breath came in sobs as she finally collapsed on the Klingon where she was cradled in a loving and protective embrace. B'Elanna smiled and kissed the moist forehead, feeling the damp strands of hair trail over her lips.

"You're so beautiful when you climax," she murmured, rubbing Ro's back lightly.

Ro laughed, low and deep in the back of her throat. "I find that hard to believe. I suspect I look like I'm suffering the most excruciating pain."

"Well, that too," B'Elanna noted, a chuckle rumbling in her chest. "We probably both do because we're so physical when we make love, but it's a sweet pain."

"The sweetest," Ro agreed, lifting her face so that she could kiss the Klingon, before snugging her face into the engineer's neck, cuddling into her arms.

B'Elanna felt a wave of tenderness wash through her, and she pulled the Bajoran closer, nuzzling her ear.

"I love you, you know," she whispered.

"I do. I love you, too, Lanna. More than words could ever express."

B'Elanna inhaled deeply, happiness permeating every pore. Regardless of what lay ahead for the couple, she knew that they would be able to handle it as long as they remembered what they felt for each other.

"Seven," he greeted. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"No, Commander, you are not disturbing me."

Eying him speculatively, she considered the officer who had come on board Voyager at DS9 in order to hitch a ride back to Earth after an unexpected detour by the Enterprise had left him stranded at the Bajoran space station. He had attended a dinner with the senior officers that first evening after leaving the station, and had charmed them considerably with his wit and personality. On the ship, he had kept to his own devices, not leaving his quarters except to help out in engineering now and again. B'Elanna had offered the opinion that he was 'not bad around a warp core' which, from the Klingon, was high praise indeed.

Seven was also aware that the man was romantically involved with another Janeway, and she had been considerably surprised when neither he, nor Kathryn, had brought the topic up during their encounters. Initially, the young woman decided that it must be some form of odd, Human etiquette that she was unaware of, possibly having to do with them both being senior Starfleet officers. She adapted to the custom by not offering it up as a subject for discussion either. Now, however, she was beginning to wonder if perhaps Kathryn wasn't as cognizant of the personal connection between herself and Patterson as Seven was. Otherwise, the Borg was certain that the captain would have commented on it by now ... privately to her partner, if nothing else. Instead, all Janeway had mentioned was that she quite liked the man, and was glad that Admiral Paris had found himself such a competent and personable adjutant.

"How may I assist you?" She linked her hands behind her back, head tilted slightly so that her optical implant was angled toward him.

He took a breath, resting his large hands lightly on the smooth top of her console. "I guess I'm a little confused, Seven and I hoped that you could clear some things up for me. Phoebe mentioned once that she had told you all about me, but now I'm starting to wonder if either she or Gretchen explained things to the captain in their letters to her."

Seven blinked, wondering why he had waited until now to voice his uncertainties. "Both Kathryn and I have been fully occupied in the weeks leading up to our return, and since our arrival in the Federation," she admitted slowly, thinking out loud. "I know that I had barely enough time to read and respond to my own letters from Phoebe. I certainly did not have the opportunity to speak with Kathryn about what might have been in any letters to her from Gretchen. It is possible that, with all the duties the captain was involved with, as well as the paperwork she was required to complete for Starfleet in preparation for our return, she may have placed any personal correspondence aside to be read at a later date." Her pale eyes met his squarely, recognizing the consternation and concern in their emerald depths. "Truthfully, I have come to conclusion that she is unaware of your personal connection to the Janeway family."

He exhaled gustily. "So it isn't just my imagination. I kept waiting for her to bring it up one way or another, wanting to know how she felt before saying anything myself, but she seemed determined to avoid the subject. I guess I didn't want to rock the boat, but it never occurred to me that she simply doesn't know." He regarded the Borg worriedly "What should I do?"

"I am ... unsure I have any useful advice to offer you," Seven responded carefully. "Phoebe indicated in her letters that Kathryn might be resistant to the concept of the relationship, but did not explain why. When the captain was so friendly toward you during our first meeting on DS9, I assumed she had already adapted to it." She quirked an eyebrow. "I am only now considering the other possibility. Perhaps if you could explain to me why Kathryn might object to the relationship, I would be better able to offer you an educated opinion as to her reaction."

He studied her with an odd expression on his face, though his eyes were warm. "Gretchen told me you had a unique way of defining things. I'm beginning to understand what she meant."

Seven wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that, so she did not, merely inclining her head slightly.

"Okay, where to start..." he said with a sigh, raking his hand through his dark, wavy hair. "There's the fact that I'm in Starfleet, which could make things very awkward for the captain, particularly since I'm ranked beneath her."

"Kathryn is conscious of rank," Seven allowed, "But I do not believe she would allow it to interfere with personal matters." She thought back to the day before, and her spouse's attempt to head off her concern by placing them in a captain/crewmember dynamic, rather than a marital one. "However," she allowed reluctantly, realizing that she had to take Kathryn's inclination for occasional illogical behavior into account, "it could pose a difficulty if you are forced to work together in a professional capacity."

He took another breath. "Then, there's the age difference. More than twenty years separate us. That can be a big problem for a lot of people."

Seven frowned. "More than fifteen years years separate Kathryn and myself. Obviously, she could not use difference in age as an objection regarding you when she, herself, is involved in such a relationship."

"Don't be too sure about that." He grinned crookedly. "Which brings us to the final and most difficult part. I'm not entirely sure how the captain would feel about me and Gretchen being romantically involved. After all, this is her mother we're talking about."

Seven was puzzled. "Why is that an obstacle?"

He started to answer, stopped, looked at her oddly, then shook his head. "Uh, maybe it shouldn't be, but I'm pretty sure that it will pose one, at least, in the beginning."

Seven continued to stare at him, waiting for more clarification than this, and he squirmed a little. "Seven, it's difficult to comprehend that one's parent is also a person with their own ...uh, needs."

"Explain," Seven prompted him further, fascinated by this slant on parent/child relationships. She remembered, not so long ago, that Janeway had professed the belief to her partner that Gretchen had only been physically intimate on two occasions, in order to conceive her two children. At the time, Seven had thought her spouse had been joking, but now she wondered if there was an element of seriousness in Kathryn's comments.

Michael looked very uncomfortable.

"I think that perhaps Kathryn might see her mother as only her parent, not as the vital, attractive woman she really is. Gretchen is a woman who has a rich and satisfying social life that simply doesn't include her children. She's only in her late sixties you know, still in the prime of her life."

"I am aware of Gretchen's age." Seven studied him as she mulled over this information, examining it from all angles. "I believe Kathryn should be informed about this relationship as soon as possible if there are that many emotional repercussions related to it."

He inhaled. "I agree, especially since we should be arriving at McKinley Station very soon, where Gretchen and Phoebe will undoubtedly be waiting for us." He straightened his shoulders beneath the grey, quilted pads of his tunic. "They probably think she already knows. I have to tell her before the reunion takes place."

Seven considered that for a long moment. "No," she offered finally. "If Kathryn is unaware of this relationship, and may have objections to it, then it will come as an unpleasant surprise." She paused. "Kathryn does not react well to unpleasant surprises, and I believe that she would require a certain amount of preparation before dealing with it. I think that my informing her of it will present fewer repercussions than if you were to break the news to her."

"That would be ... exceptionally kind of you." He reached over and placed his hand on hers. "Thank you so much, Seven."

He was certainly a tactile person, Seven noted, but then, if she remembered correctly, so was Gretchen. She wondered if Kathryn had received her reticence about affectionate gestures in public from her father, Edward. She studied his face keenly.

"You may call me, Annika."

He blinked, surprised, then smiled. "Thank you, Annika." He seemed to understand that this signified more than merely permission to utilize her Human designation. His emerald eyes grew darker and the lines around them deepened, granting his features an innate kindness and warmth. She decided that he was quite aesthetically pleasing, with an excellent personality. Gretchen had chosen well when acquiring him as her new mate.

However, that did not mean Kathryn would see him in the same light. She needed to speak to her partner as soon as possible.

"I shall tell her immediately."

He appeared taken aback by her swift and decisive manner, but before he could say anything, she had moved past him and was out of astrometrics, striding rapidly down the corridor. It took only a minute to reach the nearest turbolift, and she instructed it to take her to the bridge where she found Janeway in her command chair, supervising the alpha shift for this final approach to Earth's system.

She paused briefly after exiting the lift, studying her partner and trying to judge how busy the captain was, frowning as she noted that Janeway appeared quite involved in the conversation she was sharing with Chakotay. At ops, to Seven's left, Harry Kim concentrated on his board, his eyes dark and intent, though his mouth held a small smile that he probably wasn't even aware of. To Seven's right, Tuvok was less obvious in his emotions, but the Borg thought that he must be pleased. She knew he would only stay a few days on Earth to finish up any security briefings that might linger, before he and the Borg twins, Azan and Rebi, would catch a transport to Vulcan where he would be reunited with his family.

She took a breath and moved over to the aft tactical station, bringing up the ship's location. She was surprised to see how close they were to Earth's solar system, and realized that she had lost track of the ship's position while she had been speaking with Commander Patterson.

The captain glanced back at her, apparently noticing her arrival for the first time, and offered the Borg a small smile, an acknowledgment of her presence. Seven returned it, feeling warmed by the fleeting expression of love and tenderness in the blue-grey eyes, but added a quirked eyebrow and a slight gesture of her head in the direction of the ready room, a subtle signal that she wished to talk with her partner privately.

Janeway's gaze darkened a bit and she frowned, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, indicating that she didn't have time for it. Seven took a deep breath and left her station, moving around the railing and down the short flight of stairs to where the captain was sitting. She placed her hand on the command chair's arm and leaned over, putting her mouth next to Janeway's ear.

"I must speak with you," she insisted quietly.

"Now is not the time," Janeway responded in an equally low tone as the others on the bridge politely ignored them. "We're within minutes of contact with Starfleet Traffic Control and I have my hands full. Is this ship's business?"

The Borg hesitated. "No," Seven admitted, finally. "It is personal."

Janeway frowned. "Is there any way it can wait?" That was far more allowance for such an interruption than she would normally allow.

Seven thought about that. This information was not life threatening, and she knew that it would require at least that level of importance to draw her partner away from her duties at this particular time. Being the captain's spouse gave her a certain leeway at times, but she could not honestly justify using that privilege at the moment.

"Yes," she decided finally. "It can wait, but I must speak with you before we disembark at the station. It is very important."

"I'll find a moment," Janeway promised.

Seven dipped her head and returned to her post. She was not entirely satisfied with the exchange, but she knew it would have to do. She just hoped that any 'moment' Janeway would find for her spouse would be sufficient to convey her information, as well as grant the captain time to adapt to it.

Janeway, sitting in her command chair, closed her eyes briefly, feeling the odd sensation of excitement and apprehension swirl through her as OPAC acknowledged their approach. Earth's automated defense array had recognized Voyager's identity codes immediately, allowing them passage without hesitation. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she opened her eyes.

"Drop to impulse," she instructed evenly, surprised at how calm and professional she sounded. "On screen."

"Dropping to impulse, aye, Captain."

On the fore viewscreen, the shooting streaks of the warp drive settling into stationary stars, and the bright, yellow pinpoint of Earth's sun beckoned as they passed by the great gas giant Jupiter. Janeway felt a pain in her chest, a twinge in the general vicinity of her heart, and she had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat.

"Set course for McKinley Station," she instructed, her tone a bit husky. "Full impulse."

"Aye, full impulse."

"Lt. Kim, contact Orbital Command; let them know we're on final approach."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry's voice was edged with enthusiasm, and Janeway glanced back, smiling at him. He worked his console for a moment or so. "Orbital Command clears us for vector one three eight, and requests that we take a direct line to an internal berth within the station."

"An internal berth would be fine," Janeway said, and turned forward to Ro. "Do it, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Captain." The Bajoran's graceful hands moved delicately over her board.

"They added a message to the docking instructions, Captain," Harry offered suddenly, an odd inflection in his tone.

Janeway turned and raised an eyebrow, waiting for it.

"It's two words," The young operations officer's voice broke a little as his dark gaze rose to meet hers. "Welcome Home."

She felt tears flood her eyes, and she looked quickly back at the fore viewscreen, blinking rapidly. Beside her, she heard Chakotay clear his throat, and she was sure that if she glanced over at him in that second, he would be having a bit of trouble with his vision as well.

"Thank them on behalf of Voyager, Harry," she instructed, once she was sure her voice wouldn't fail her. She was aware of Seven's pale eyes observing her and she wondered idly what had been so important to the young woman. However, since it was not a dire emergency, she supposed she would find out soon enough. Thinking of the young woman brought something else to mind however, and the captain crooked her finger at the Borg who loomed over her and Chakotay at the aft tactical station.

"Seven?"

"Yes, Captain," the young woman responded promptly. She knelt so that she was closer to Janeway, angling her body beneath the railing, undoubtedly realizing that, because of the way the captain had pitched her tone, this was to be a confidential conversation.

"There is an item in our quarters that I require right now," Janeway told her. "It's resting in the rear of our cooling unit. I've been saving it for a long time, just for this moment. I believe you know what it is."

Seven hesitated, and then nodded. "I do."

"Would you please go down to the captain's quarters and retrieve it for me?" the captain instructed. "Take it to the conference room, along with the proper accouterments for the entire senior staff."

"Yes, Captain." Seven uncoiled gracefully from her kneeling position and disappeared into the turbolift.

Janeway watched her go, then became aware of Chakotay glancing at her.

"Captain?"

"Before the senior staff leaves the ship, I want us to get together one last time."

He nodded. "Good idea. God knows, there'll probably be Starfleet brass just waiting to pounce on us as soon as we enter the station."

"As well as our friends and family. It's going to be a very busy afternoon and evening."

He frowned. "I appreciate that Starfleet is going to want to have us report for duty immediately, but to be honest, Captain, I think I would like a few days to get used to the idea of being on Earth again."

"I'll see what I can do," she promised before turning her attention back to the viewscreen.

"Orbital Command has us on line," Ro reported.

"Magnify."

The screen altered, and there it was, the little blue planet, third from the sun, shining like a beacon of hope and home in the darkest of night. She was aware of moisture spilling over her lids and slipping silently down her face, but she did not wipe it away, nor did she try to hide what she was feeling. This moment was too important ... too monumental ... to pretend to be calm and composed when, instead, all she could feel was wonder and joy.

Chakotay glanced at her briefly, then smoothly took over. "Clear for final approach vector."

"Approach vector locked in, Commander," Ro replied smartly. "Passing beyond Jupiter's orbit."

"Drop to one quarter impulse."

"Aye, Commander, one quarter impulse."

As Voyager cleared the system's largest planet with dignified grandeur, more traffic became visible, increasing in number the closer they got to the inner worlds. Janeway realized with a sort of awed astonishment that the variety of ships were falling into line with her vessel, a host of small tugs, freighters, private yachts and assorted Starfleet vessels forming a sort of impromptu escort toward the space station, while three larger vessels, two Nebula-class and an Akira-class, adjusted their trajectory to keep pace above and to the sides, bracketing the smaller Intrepid-class ship in a sort of triangular formation. Every vessel had their running lights flashing with wild abandon, indicating a celebration of monumental proportions.

It was completely unexpected, and thus, all the more touching for that reason. Somehow, news of their arrival had been announced, and now Voyager was finally receiving the welcome denied by its arrival at DS9. The captain was regretful that so many of her crew had left the ship ... they had deserved this display of acknowledgment for their return, this gesture of affirmation of their great achievement.

The silver form of Earth Station McKinley appeared, drifting across the blue and green backdrop of Earth's North America Sector, swirls of whispy white softening the landmass. Janeway swallowed hard as she saw the dark square on the upper side of the saucer-shaped station open wide for them. A glance at her helm officer revealed perspiration at the back of Ro's neck, and the captain realized that the Bajoran was not entirely pleased to have all the extra vessels escorting Voyager as she directed the ship toward the interior bay of the station. Tom Paris would have reveled in it, of course, and probably would have attempted a rollover before directing the ship toward the entrance of the hangar.

Fortunately, as they came within a million kilometers, the other vessels began to peel off with alacrity, leaving only the three cruisers. They were the last to break formation, waiting until the very last minuter before they soared away on courses that took them clear of the station.

"We're cleared for final approach," Ro said, relief touching her tone as the ship was once more clear of traffic. "Bay doors are open."

"Thrusters only," Chakotay said.

"Thrusters only, aye, sir."

The Bajoran's hands flew over her helm as the silvery station grew steadily larger, filling the viewscreen as the ship glided easily toward the dark interior of the huge, internal docking area of Earth's primary station. Janeway took a deep breath as her vessel finally entered the space station, the area so large that it was hard to get a perspective on it. The Federation starships docked at the various berths looked like toys rather than the massive vessels they really were. She blinked as she noticed various debris drifting in the vacuum, and it took a moment to identify them as colorful streamers and a form of large confetti.

She heard a sound behind her, glancing back to see that Harry was weeping unashamedly, and then looked up at Seven who had returned to the bridge unnoticed sometime during their final approach. The Borg quirked an eyebrow inquiringly at the captain, and Janeway smiled at her spouse through her tears, sniffing hard as she turned forward again. The ship eased along the traffic corridor, a huge wall looming on one side dotted with squares of transparencies. Janeway squinted and realized that the tiny bits of motion she saw were actually throngs of people, waving and cheering silently as the vessel made its stately way to the waiting berth.

There was a gentle clang that reverberated through the ship as Voyager slipped into its assigned docking port, certain hums and hisses easing as umbilicalis from the station shot out to connect to the vessel, taking over the life support system, overriding the internal systems and power output. Janeway wiped her face and swallowed hard before touching her console.

"All hands," she announced, "Docking at McKinley Station is complete. Operation officers, report to transporter rooms one and two for final transfer of personnel and cargo. Senior officers, report to the conference room. The rest of you..." She paused. It had all been said, of course, when arriving at DS9 and in the days since, but this was really it, the last stop for her and her vessel. She cleared her throat. "You've been a fine crew, one that I have been both proud and honored to have served with. No captain has ever commanded better personnel, no starship has been more capably served. Disembarking will commence immediately according to the distributed schedule. Good-bye, and good luck in all your future endeavors. Captain Kathryn Janeway and USS Voyager ... standing down."

She felt a hard lump rise in her chest, and thought that, honestly, she could be stronger at the moment. After all she had been through at DS9, one would think saying good-bye would become easier with repetition.

She stood up and made her way into the conference room, noting the green bottle stuck in the ice bucket that had been placed at the head of the large table, a crystal champagne flute placed at each chair. Janeway took her position beneath the large viewport that showed the interior wall of the docking port. She remained standing as the rest of her senior staff joined her, taking their customary positions around the table. Chakotay was at her left hand, as always, while Tuvok took his spot on her right. Harry, wiping his face, stood at attention next to the first officer, while across from him, Ro Laren took the place of the missing Tom Paris. Seven positioned herself quietly at the other end of the table Everyone waited in silence as the other two members of the senior staff, having to report from other parts of the vessel, finally entered the room. The Doctor, arriving from sickbay, looking bemused at the glass set before him, and B'Elanna Torres from engineering, smiled faintly as she found a spot next to Ro.

Janeway nodded at Chakotay who picked up the bottle and carefully opened it, easing out the cork before letting it go, the pop quiet so that none of the precious champagne that had traveled with the captain for so long, would be lost. He filled the glasses, even the Doctor's, then placed the empty bottle back in the ice bucket.

Janeway picked up her flute and regarded these people who had been through so much with her, who had come from such different backgrounds and places in the universe to serve her and her ship with the enduring faith that she would ultimately bring them home. She felt a muscle twitch in her jaw and she raised her glass.

"There's not much left for me to say that hasn't already been said in the past few days. Yet, all the words in the universe just don't seem to be enough to cover what remains to be shared. It was an incredible journey, and it's so hard to believe that it's finally over." She stopped and took a breath to compose herself. "To all of those who aren't here, to those who did not live to see this day, to those that did not make this final port, our thoughts are with you. To those of you who are here, who remained true to the course, I salute you."

"To Kathryn Janeway," Chakotay broke in, his voice strong. "To the woman who brought us home against the most incredible odds, who always kept the faith and never let us down. To the captain of USS Voyager, the finest damned ship in the 'Fleet!"

"Here, here," sounded from the others in the room and together, the remaining officers lifted their glasses and drank the fine vintage of Picard Vinery '69, aware that this would probably be the final time they would all be together. Then quietly, reverently, the officers filed out of the room, leaving the captain to stare blankly into the bottom of her empty glass. It took her a moment to realize not everyone had left, that Seven had remained behind, regarding her intently.

"Kathryn," she ventured after a moment. "I need to speak with you."

Janeway took a breath and lifted her head. "Of course, darl--," she began, only to be immediately interrupted by her comm badge.

"Bridge to Janeway."

She shot a rueful glance at her partner, then lifted her head. "Go ahead, Chakotay."

"The station has just contacted us. There's a formal welcoming committee waiting for us in the reception area. All the brass we could handle, including some four-star admirals. They want us out there as soon as possible."

"On my way," Janeway said, stifling her sigh. This was somewhat unexpected, as well. She closed the channel and glanced again at her spouse. "I'm sorry, darling, we'll have to do this later."

"But Kathryn---" Seven began, following the captain out to the bridge.

Janeway frowned, pausing to look back. "Later," she insisted, dropping her voice a little to inject that note of command. Seven frowned, an expression of frustration on her narrow features, and Janeway softened her gaze. "Seven, I need you to go and get Jake. We don't want to lose him in all the confusion."

Seven opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Chakotay and Harry both hailed the captain, requiring Janeway's attention on what needed to be done before they could leave the ship. When the older woman had the chance to look up again, Seven had left the bridge, and she hoped that whatever the young woman needed to tell her wasn't as important as she claimed.

"That's Necheyev," B'Elanna identified in a low voice, pointing out a diminutive woman with blonde hair, sporting four pips on her admiral bars. "I'm beginning to think we should have changed into our dress uniforms."

"Maybe," Ro said quietly, scanning the group around the captain. "But it's not like they gave us time to prepare." Her eyes moved over to the other highly ranked officials who had turned out for the welcoming committee. "Admiral Hayes." She indicated the bulky, grey-haired man.

"A major league windbag," B'Elanna said. "At least, according to Janeway."

"He's the one that ordered her to install the slipstream drive."

"I guess he was right on that call." The Klingon snorted. "For once."

Ro narrowed her eyes. "Hmm," she said, without committing herself. She nodded at another man who, with dark hair, appeared younger than the rest. "Admiral Ross. He was in command of the Allied forces during the Dominion War."

"The last admiral is Owen Paris," B'Elanna said, easing behind the Bajoran so that she was not in the white-haired man's direct line of vision. "Tom's dad. I punched him in the mouth the last time I saw him."

Ro blinked. "You never mentioned that before."

B'Elanna shrugged lamely, her grin slightly sheepish. "Slipped my mind."

Ro shook her head. "According to Picard, one or more of those Admirals has been recruited by Section 31. Finding out which of them has turned isn't going to be easy."

"Let's just get through this ceremony. Then, we'll worry about saving the universe."

Startled, Ro shot her a look, and then offered a grin which B'Elanna returned. The couple sobered as they glanced over at Seven of Nine. The Borg was standing by herself, the couple's Irish Setter sitting next to her, cringing against the young woman's leg. It was a tossup as to which of them appeared the most frightened. Ro noticed how white Seven's knuckles were on the dog's leash, and how she kept shifting the strap of her bag uncomfortably on her shoulder.

"I think she needs help," Ro told her partner.

"No kidding," B'Elanna agreed, obviously having spotted her friend's unease. The two women hefted their carryalls and moved quickly to where Seven stood, bracketing the young woman on either side. Jake looked up at the two women, and the Bajoran could swear there was a look of relief on his doggy muzzle. "How's it going, Seven?"

The Borg glanced at them both. "I am ... apprehensive," she admitted, though there seemed to be a certain relaxation in her shoulders at their appearance.

"It's all right," Ro assured her, reaching over to pat her on the small of the back. "This won't be the most fun you've ever had, but I promise you'll get through it. It's just formalities."

"We're here, Nik," B'Elanna added. "You're not alone."

"Thank you," Seven was visibly grateful. "Both of you."

Ro glanced over to where the Doctor stood, relieved to see that Harry Kim was standing next to the EMH almost protectively, as Voyager's crew collectively fell into a loose formation, comprised of five lines of approximately ten crewmembers each. The three women found themselves in the front row, granting them an unobstructed view to the podium. Nearby, the Doctor looked concerned as he waited, a small, metal box held tightly in his hands. Ro briefly wondered what was in it before she had to focus her attention on the stage, trying to figure out if this celebration had any ulterior motive, one possibly directed at Janeway or Seven.

"On behalf of Starfleet and the Federation, welcome back, Captain Janeway," Admiral Paris said, shaking the captain's hand as his voice carried over the crowd. "It's absolutely wonderful to see you again."

"Thank you, Admiral," Janeway replied respectfully. "On behalf of my crew, I want to thank you for this wonderful homecoming."

Other pleasantries were exchanged, including several long-winded speeches by the representatives of the Federation Council, obviously appearing for the sake of the photo opportunity. The Federation press corps were scattered liberally throughout the crowd, and there were several recording devices trained on the proceedings. Finally, there came the moment which the Voyager crewmembers had contemplated with apprehension, though the rest of the spectators were probably unaware of its significance.

Ro discovered that she couldn't look directly at what was happening, shifting her feet and studying the deck uncomfortably as Necheyev took her place in front of Janeway on the podium. As the admiral in charge of the sector when Voyager had initially been lost, it was Necheyev's duty to receive the final ship's log and accept command from the captain.

Janeway seemed to pause, and took a bit of a breath before speaking in a voice that was completely devoid of emotion, handing the admiral a padd. "We have completely our mission. I turn over my command codes. USS Voyager stands down."

Necheyev maintained her gaze with the captain. "Acknowledged," she said calmly, in a clear voice. "Captain Kathryn Janeway, you are hereby relieved of command. USS Voyager is removed from active duty and will be turned over immediately to Utopia Planitia Operations for upgrading and reassignment. Congratulations on bringing your ship and your crew safely home, Captain."

Ro raised her eyes, feeling a very real pain in her chest as Janeway completed the final procedures that meant she no longer was in charge of Voyager ... or anything else at the moment. Beside her, the Bajoran could sense the stiffness in Seven's body, the firm way she held her chin, and she knew that the Borg was aware of how hard this had to be for Janeway. Even though they would have planned for what would happen when they returned to Earth, it was unlikely they had expected such a public removal of her command.

The formalities completed, the admirals descended from the stage to mingle with the remaining crewmembers, shaking their hands and taking time to offer a few words to each of them. Ro felt uneasy as she regarded the approach of the brass toward the area where she stood with Seven and B'Elanna. Near her leg, it was apparent that Jake didn't like it much either, perhaps picking up on all the emotion around him. He started to growl in a low, menacing rumble. Startled, the admirals paused a few feet away, looking warily at the dog who had not shifted position, but was now glaring balefully at the Starfleet officers, his upper lip lifted to reveal sharp canines.

"Jake, no," Seven instructed in a low voice, obviously appalled. "Be silent."

He did not comply, and the young woman glanced somewhat helplessly at her friends. B'Elanna was chewing her bottom lip, obviously trying not to laugh, and Ro cleared her throat.

"It's all the noise and confusion," she offered to the admirals who carefully maintained their distance. "He's also quite protective of his mistress."

Necheyev regarded her. "He doesn't seem to be the only one that's protective," she said flatly as she eyed both the Bajoran and the Klingon. "I was unaware that the Tertiary Adjutant to Unimatrix 01 required so many guards." She seemed unwilling to look at Seven, as if dismissing her from her attention ... as if she were a machine and not a person.

Ro maintained her gaze, keeping it level and just on the verge of offense. "Not guards, friends. Seven is Starfleet, and we look out for our own, don't we?"

"Of course we do," Admiral Hayes said jovially, abruptly drawing Necheyev away. He glanced back, dropping a wink in Ro's direction. "Perhaps we should all get dogs. Certainly cuts down on the small talk." He and Ross guided Necheyev toward another group of crewmembers as the Bajoran exhaled slowly in relief.

"What the hell that was about?" B'Elanna muttered.

"I'm sure we'll find out, sooner or later," Ro said grimly.

"The admiral does not like me." Seven's eyes searched restlessly. "I do not know where the captain has gone." There was a decided edge in her tone and Ro glanced at her with concern.

"She's over there, speaking with Admiral Paris," B'Elanna said soothingly, putting her hand on the Borg's arm to point her in the proper direction. The Klingon stared speculatively at them. "I sure wish I knew what they were saying."

Seven tilted her head, and Ro abruptly realized the Borg was listening to the duo with her enhanced hearing.

"The captain is requesting that the remainder of the crew be awarded leave in order to 'acclimatize', rather than report immediately for duty," Seven reported dispassionately. "Admiral Paris replies that since this is a 'Thursday', he can arrange for a 'long weekend' for those that wish it, and there would be no need to report until next week, on 'Tuesday morning'. He also insists that Kathryn accept such leave as well, that there will be plenty of time for her to be debriefed next week. He promises that he will inform the other admirals as to this change in plans after the ceremony is complete."

"Wow, Seven, how did you learn to do that?" B'Elanna said, admiration coloring her eyes as she glanced at her friend.

"I have always been capable of listening to conversations at a distance, but I was not required to display that skill to you before now."

Ro smiled faintly. "It's a good skill to have, Seven. Don't let on that you have it to very many people ... otherwise you'll lose the tactical advantage it possesses."

"I understand, Lieutenant."

The Bajoran looked up as the Doctor made his way over to them, noticing that he no longer had the box he had been carrying. He looked vaguely shaky, and before she quite realized what she was doing, she had reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

"Take it easy, Doctor. It's almost over."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he responded, with only a mild flash of his normal acerbic nature. "I turned over my mobile emitter to Admiral Ross. He promised to pass it on to Starfleet Temporal Operations."

"Did you get a receipt?" B'Elanna asked cynically.

He pulled out a padd from his tunic, a bit surprised as he showed the engineer the data on the tiny viewscreen. "Actually, I did." He paused. "At least a recognition that I volunteered the device freely. They didn't mention the one I was wearing." He looked hopeful, as if he might have managed to get away with something.

Ro's eyes traced the small unit which the hologram wore strapped to his arm, the device allowing him to move freely outside his sickbay. It had originally been Sek's, built by B'Elanna and Harry to provide the assistant medical hologram with the same mobility that the EMH had enjoyed. However, when Kes and Sek had merged into one being, the result was no longer a hologram, and did not require it ... which worked out well for the Doctor. His emitter had been 29^th Century technology, and it was unlikely that he would have been able to keep it now that they had returned to the Federation. By promptly handing it over to the proper authorities, it was possible that the EMH had forestalled certain problems. The one he was currently wearing was larger and more awkward, and did not hold the range and capacity of the initial unit, but the device was constructed in the 24^th Century, so it was hoped that it would not be taken from him.

That didn't mean the Doctor was out of difficulty, however.

"Don't count that as a victory." Ro didn't want him to become complacent just because Starfleet hadn't immediately seized his matrix and transported him to the nearest lab. It was unlikely that anything like that would take place with all the civilians and press around. "When the captain worked out the paperwork that declared you a 'sentient hologram', that probably threw a spanner in Starfleet's gears, but don't think you're entirely out of danger. Your very existence could pose a problem for them, and Starfleet medical, in particular, will try to find a way to deal with you."

The Doctor looked somber. "I'm not taking anything for granted." He looked into the crowd of civilians, most of whom seemed to be growing impatient as the Starfleet admirals and Federation Council members continued to occupy the attention of Voyager's crew. His eyes widened and he pointed. "Look, there's Lt. Barclay and Dr. Zimmerman!"

He waved wildly and there was a stir in the crowd. Ro watched in amusement as the Human version of the EMH forced his way to the barricades and began yelling in a most obnoxious fashion at the security officer, insisting that he be allowed through. That caused others who had also been waiting to start voicing complaints, and the official welcoming committee quickly saw which way the wind was blowing, promptly wrapping up the final ceremonies with the announcement by Admiral Paris that Voyager's crew would be on leave for the next four days.

Ro found it quite interesting that Necheyev looked both angered and surprised by the announcement. Ross and Hayes didn't seem all that pleased either, almost as if Admiral Paris had somehow countermanded certain plans they had formulated.

The security squad neatly and efficiently removed the barriers, allowing the civilians to get through, and the crowd surged toward the waiting crew, a plethora of friends, family, and maybe even an old enemy or two. Ro and B'Elanna exchanged a glance and moved closer to Seven, protecting her from the rush of people that suddenly surrounded them, all searching for that special someone. Members of the press circulated freely, attempting to get interviews from the crew who were far more concerned with greeting their loved ones than speaking into an imaging unit. More than once, Ro and B'Elanna had to intercept some impertinent question directed at the Borg. Cries of joy at countless reunions grew loud and boisterous, filling the air, and the Bajoran could not resist a smile as a small, older couple made their way to where Harry stood with his wife, Megan Delaney, and their son. A great deal of bowing took place, then the happy, glowing face of the older man, who accepted Little Harry into his embrace, seemed to light up the entire station in a way that Ro didn't think she'd ever forget. She hoped one of the Federation press got that on their imagers.

She was surprised when she felt a little twinge at the fact that she had no one here to greet her, but it soon passed as she realized that B'Elanna had no one to greet her either. Her hand reached out behind Seven's back to intercept the Klingon's, entwining her fingers with her lover's in a show of solidarity.

She wanted her to remember that they weren't alone ... they always had each other.

"There," Seven announced, her voice rising with pleasure as she pointed through the crowd. "The captain is over there. She is trying to make her way over to where Gretchen and Phoebe are waiting." She paused. "I believe she is having difficulty."

Without saying a word, B'Elanna and Ro immediately started working their way through the crowd, escorting Seven and Jake over to where she had last seen the captain, and then helping both women find their way to their relatives.

Somehow, in all the confusion, Ro ended up holding onto Jake's leash, and she exchanged a foreboding look with the dog, hoping that she had managed to convey the idea that he was to stay put and not bite anyone. Obviously his training by Seven was good enough to allow him to accept the warning, and they eased off to the side as Seven greeted her in-laws.

At this point, the Bajoran was just hoping this whole thing would soon be over so she could find someplace to sit down. Homecoming was damned tiresome.

"Momma," Janeway said, in a very odd sort of tone, and promptly burst into tears.

"Kathryn," Gretchen responded in kind, opening her arms and the captain was enfolded into them, almost as if she were three years old again, rather than forty-three. Seven blinked, and regarded the embrace with interest, wondering who was crying harder ... her spouse or the elder Janeway. She suspected that Kathryn's emotion had simply gotten the better of her, since she did not believe the captain would have wanted to indulge in such a public display of emotion.

"Hey, Little Sister."

Seven barely had time to turn around before she was swept up in a big hug by Phoebe, the young woman taller and more willowy than her older sibling. Long, curly, dark red hair cascaded down her back, and her bright eyes were a light grey, the woman's genetic makeup favoring the maternal side of the family rather than the Janeway compactness that the captain displayed. Seven readily hugged the woman back, feeling happiness sweep away all the uncertainties and fears she had been experiencing since leaving the ship.

"Oh, I've missed you, Annika." Phoebe smiled widely as she had released her grip a little.

"I have missed you, as well," Seven responded, regarding the young woman with pleasure. She belatedly remembered her companions. "Phoebe, do you remember B'Elanna?"

"Of course." Phoebe reached out and took the engineer's forearm, grasping it strenuously in a Klingon greeting. "nuqneH, B'Elanna Torres."

Bemused, B'Elanna returned the greeting, looking a little overpowered by the younger Janeway's personality, just as she had when they had last met years ago when an ancient device had transported her, Seven and Chakotay to DS9.

"This is Lt. Ro Laren," Seven added, motioning to the Bajoran who nodded politely, but did not offer her arm to be twisted.

"Annika."

Seven, interrupted in the middle of her introduction, turned to Gretchen and smiled, allowing herself to be drawn into the elder woman's warm embrace. She felt moisture sting her eyes, realizing that the emotion she was experiencing was similar to what she had felt when saying farewell to the alternative universe Hansens. There was the same power in her love and connection to Gretchen, and the strength of it could only be expressed with tears. Apparently, Gretchen felt the