chapter 7

 

 

Janeway put the finishing touches on a Caesar salad while letting a bottle of wine breathe on the table. She patted her replicator and whispered, “Well done, my friend,” as an encouragement for future good behavior. Replicators might be simple constructions of circuitry and power supply, but every good captain knew that machines were more than the sum of their parts. It usually paid off to be properly appreciative when they came through.

She had changed out of her uniform into simple pants and a light sweater. At first she’d considered keeping her uniform on, but then decided that might make the evening a little too formal. She wanted Lynne to feel comfortable.

Her door chime sounded a few minutes before 1800, just as she’d placed the dinner rolls on the table. “Come,” she called, and walked toward the door as it swished open. Lynne stepped through and stopped. She held a small covered container in one hand.

“Hello, Lynne,” said Janeway. “Thank you for coming this evening.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. Thank you for inviting me. I brought a contribution to our dinner—you can’t imagine how happy I was to find it in the replicator programs.”

Janeway took the proffered container and peeked inside. She didn’t recognize the contents, but she could smell the subtle and wonderful scent of coffee. “What is it?”

“It’s an Italian dessert called tiramisu. My replicator didn’t quite get it right, but I tweaked it a bit and it finally came out the way it’s supposed to. Have you ever had it?”

“No, I don’t believe so.”

“Well, I’ve heard rumors about you and coffee…so I think you’ll like it.”

Janeway grinned. “I can’t wait to try it.” She took the container to the table and picked up the bottle of wine. “Can I interest you in a glass?”

Lynne joined her. “The Doctor gave me a clean bill of health yesterday, so yes, I’d love one.”

Janeway poured a glass and presented it to her guest. Raising her own glass, she said, “To your clean bill of health—and your first week on duty. By all accounts you’ve been a great success.”

Lynne gave her a grateful look as they clinked glasses. “Thank you. And thank you for arranging it; you’ve saved my life in more ways than one.” They sipped their wine, and Janeway noted that Lynne held hers in her mouth before swallowing. “Mmm, that’s excellent,” she said. “Really unusual flavor.” She looked around the room with interest. “So, do I get the twenty-five cent tour?”

Janeway couldn’t interpret that one. “I have no idea what you just said.”

“I’m sorry; it’s an idiom from my time. I never realized how many of them were in my vocabulary until I arrived here.” She thought for a moment. “It was the custom in my time for a hostess to tour a new guest around her home, showing the main rooms and any pieces of art, pictures, knicknacks, whatever. I guess the purpose was to provide an ice breaker—I mean, to help get the conversation started. The guest could comment on the rooms or décor, and those things often helped the conversation over the initial awkward stage that always seems to happen when two people meet outside their normal environment and don’t really know what to say.”

Janeway was interested. “That makes sense. What was the origin of the idiom?”

“Oh, good question. Hmm. I suppose it might have originated in the mid- to late-1800s, when money was worth a lot more and twenty-five cents would get you a shave and a haircut—or probably a tour of a museum or great house. I really never thought about it until you asked.”

“Well, you certainly are full of interesting information,” said Janeway, as she gestured for her guest to take a seat on the sofa. She took the chair opposite.

“Johnson and Slater think so,” said Lynne, sitting down. “I talk on and on for hours, and they practically hang on my every word. My friends and family would laugh if they could see it.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, first of all they know—I mean, they knew how much I love to talk. Secondly, I’ve always loved teaching, especially to interested students. So here I am in a job where one, I get to talk all day, and two, I’m teaching some of the most interested students that ever existed. They’d tell me that I always manage to land on my feet, and here I’ve pulled it off again.”

Janeway ticked the idioms off on her fingers. “‘Land on my feet,’ meaning…”

“Um…meaning succeeding even when it might seem unlikely.”

“And ‘pulling it off’?”

“Pretty much the same thing, actually. God, you people really force me to examine my vocabulary. I swear it’s that more than anything else that makes me realize how far I am from home.”

“You must miss it,” said Janeway, watching her guest closely.

Lynne’s animated face went still, along with the sparkle in her eyes. The change was dramatic, and Janeway was sorry that she’d been the cause of it.

“Yes,” said Lynne shortly. “And if you don’t mind, I really don’t want to discuss it.”

There was an awkward pause, and Janeway picked up the sculpture that stood on her coffee table. “Then shall we start the twenty-five cent tour here?”

 

 

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For the next half hour they walked around Janeway’s living quarters, while she pointed out artifacts from her travels and related stories about them. Lynne expressed sincere interest and asked questions about almost everything, which usually spawned more stories. Janeway’s storytelling continued as they sat down to dinner, and Lynne turned out to be a good listener. She made observations and comments that demonstrated her keen intelligence and sometimes stopped Janeway in her tracks, as she was compelled to think about something from an angle she hadn’t considered before. As the evening wore on, she found that she was enjoying herself tremendously. Lynne seemed to take pleasure in her company and came alive as they conversed, often challenging Janeway’s statements—but never in an arrogant manner; more in the manner of one who sees things differently and wants to examine all the viewpoints. Janeway found Lynne’s own point of view to be unique, refreshing, and often remarkably relevant to current events, as she frequently came up with examples from her own time that perfectly illustrated what Janeway was saying. Their conversation grew more animated and intense as they finished dinner and moved back to the couch, and at one point Janeway suddenly realized what was so different about their interaction:  Lynne was treating her simply as a friend; not as a captain, teacher or mentor. Here was the other side of that familiarity that had so surprised her the week before, and she was deeply grateful that she hadn’t squelched Lynne’s initial attempt at a connection. She had enough sense to understand that a friendship like this, one that was outside all of her normal boundaries, could be priceless.

As the evening wore on, she found herself growing more and more relaxed, laughing at Lynne’s recounting of her days in the archeology lab and her trials and tribulations of learning how to use the ship’s equipment. Lynne somehow made nearly every story funny, even though many of them poked fun at herself. They both had a good laugh when Janeway explained her tendency to produce spectacularly awful dinners, the pinnacle being when she’d burned a pot roast—something that was theoretically impossible with a replicator—and had been forced to serve peanut butter sandwiches instead. Lynne assured her that the meal had been excellent and that her reputation was obviously undeserved. Then they sampled the tiramisu, and Janeway thought she’d died and gone to heaven. Dessert and coffee all in the same forkful was her idea of perfection.

When Lynne finally remarked on the lateness of the hour, Janeway was astonished to see how much time had passed. She often lost track of time while working, but rarely while socializing. It felt wonderful. She escorted her guest to the door, where Lynne turned and held out her hand. “Thank you, Captain,” she said. “I enjoyed your company very much.”

Janeway took Lynne’s hand and placed her other hand over it. “You’re very welcome, and I enjoyed your company as well. Perhaps we can do this again?” She felt a little shy—but she was making the request as a friend, not as a captain, and the normal self-confidence that came with her rank was conspicuously absent.

Lynne smiled. “I’d like that,” she said. “Would you like to come to my quarters next week at the same time?”

“I’ll be there,” said Janeway.

Lynne nodded. “Until the next time, then,” she said, withdrawing her hand and stepping through the doorway. The door swished shut and Janeway stood in her quarters alone.

Wondering why the room suddenly felt so empty, and why her fingers were tingling.

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 8

 

 

Over the course of the next several days, Janeway was distracted more than once by thoughts of Lynne. At a staff meeting one morning, she realized that Neelix had been talking for five minutes and she had no idea what he’d been saying. This wasn’t actually that unusual; she was often guilty of not paying scrupulous attention to everything the Talaxian said. But a few minutes later, when Chakotay asked her a question and she realized that she hadn’t been listening to him either, she knew she’d better get control of herself. She told herself that her wandering mind was caused by the novelty of having a new friend who was not a member of the crew, who saw the woman behind the captain and needed nothing from her—not orders, not approval, not counseling, not mentoring. After all, she hadn’t had that luxury in five years, so wasn’t a little distraction entirely understandable?

She found herself hoping to see Lynne again, and didn’t want to wait until their next dinner date. But she normally did not spend much time in the area of the archeology labs on deck seven, where Lynne passed her days. Janeway’s interests ran more in the life and physical sciences, so while it was not unusual for her to make an appearance in the main science lab on deck eight, it would certainly cause comment were she to stroll into archeology. She could think of no plausible excuse to visit the area and didn’t want to be obvious in her desire to see Lynne again. Deciding on an alternative strategy, she began taking more meals in the mess hall than was her wont. Many crew members dropped by her table to chat, but Lynne was not among them. She even tried eating at different times, with the same unsatisfying results. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the woman wasn’t even on board. The thought occurred to her to check the computer for Lynne’s whereabouts, just to make sure. She laughed at herself for being an idiot, but it didn’t stop her from checking anyway.

“Lynne Hamilton is in the archeology lab,” the computer informed her. Later that evening, when she asked again, she learned that Lynne was in her quarters. She frowned. It was the dinner hour for the alpha shift, and while many crew members chose to eat in their quarters rather than the mess hall, she had to wonder. Her thoughts flashed back to that awkward moment during their dinner together, when Lynne had closed up and refused to discuss her feelings of missing home. Janeway had let it alone then, but now she wondered if she shouldn’t push the subject a bit further. For the next two days she checked on Lynne’s whereabouts and found that she was spending her time in the archeology lab, the weight room, or her quarters. Janeway had introduced Lynne to a number of the crew earlier in the week, but she didn’t seem to be doing much socializing. Once again Janeway wished for a ship’s counselor, who would know what was normal in this situation. Certainly Lynne needed time to work through her feelings of grief, loss and anger, but how much time? How long should she be left alone?

As long as it takes, she concluded. She’d keep an eye on things, but would not intervene unless it became necessary. What she’d seen of Lynne so far convinced her that she was dealing with a strongly independent woman who would not welcome anyone’s efforts to help her.

When the evening of their dinner finally arrived, Janeway spent more time than she thought possible deciding what to wear. After realizing that she’d been standing in front of her closet for several minutes without making any progress, she chided herself for a fool and selected a simple dress she’d always liked for its grace and comfort. Bottle of wine in hand, she set off through the corridors to Lynne’s quarters. Crew members greeted her in passing, most of them glancing at the bottle. She realized that it was rather unusual for her to be carrying wine through these corridors—the only other person with whom she regularly had dinner was Chakotay, and he was right next door to her. Well, her crew would just have to get used to the fact that their captain had a friend.

Arriving at Lynne’s quarters, she activated the chime and felt a little tingle of excitement when she heard Lynne’s voice through the comm, inviting her in. Janeway stepped through the door and stopped in her tracks.

Lynne was wearing a pair of camel-colored pants and a dark green blouse left open at the neck. A sparkling green pendant nestled in the hollow of her throat, glittering on its chain as she moved. Three weeks under the Doctor’s care had filled out the hollows in her cheeks, softening the planes of her narrow face. Her hair was up in its usual French braid, which Janeway had come to love for the way it set off those silver streaks. It occurred to her that Lynne was a beautiful woman, and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed it before.

“Captain, it’s good to see you!” said Lynne happily, her eyes alight.

“Thank you for inviting me,” said Janeway, presenting the bottle of wine. She couldn’t take her eyes off her friend—if the last several days without seeing her had been hard, for some reason seeing her now was even harder. She felt awkward, bereft of the usual smooth manners that had served her so well for years of diplomatic engagements, and relaxation seemed an unachievable goal.

Lynne took the bottle to the table and opened it, allowing it to breathe. She looked at the label. “Never heard of this grape,” she remarked.

“It’s from a planet in the Alpha quadrant called Bajor,” said Janeway, walking over to join her. “Earth still makes some of the best wine around, but other planets produce some wonderful blends as well, and Bajoran wine is known as extremely high quality.”

“Do you mean to say that you’ve carried this bottle all the way from the Alpha quadrant?” Wide eyes showed Lynne’s surprise.

“Well, no.” Janeway wished she did have something that special to offer. “Our replicators are programmed with the patterns for a number of Alpha quadrant wines. It’s not the same thing at all, and if we ever get back home, I’ll show you what Bajoran wine really tastes like.”

“You mean when we get home,” said Lynne, regarding Janeway with a raised eyebrow and a slight curve to her lips.

“Of course,” said Janeway, relaxing a little. With that single comment and the accompanying look, Lynne had implied that she understood Janeway’s situation perfectly. While in uniform, she could never make anything but positive assertions about their return home, but here she was not in the role of captain and was allowed to have doubts. A certain tightness in her chest eased just a bit.

Lynne put the bottle down again and picked up a glass full of clear liquid. “Can I get you anything to drink before dinner?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were bringing wine, so I’ve already started in on a gin and tonic. It’ll probably clash with the wine later, but I really don’t care.”

Yes, hard liquor sounded like an excellent idea—a fast route to complete relaxation. “I’ll take a whiskey and soda,” said Janeway.

Lynne made the request to the replicator and brought Janeway’s drink to her. She raised her own glass. “What’s the normal toast around here?”

“To the journey,” said Janeway, raising her glass as well.

“To the journey,” echoed Lynne. They touched their glasses together and drank.

Lynne led the way to an armchair and couch sitting at right angles beneath the viewport, and motioned Janeway toward the chair. Sitting on the couch and tucking one leg beneath her, Lynne held up her glass. “Do the history files still contain a record as to the origin of this custom?” she asked.

“You mean, toasting and clinking glasses?”

Lynne nodded.

“They might,” said Janeway, “but if they do, I’ve never read it. I suppose you know.”

“Of course,” said Lynne, the smile touching both sides of her mouth this time. “I can’t tell you when it originated, but it was hundreds of years before I was born. In that time, poison in the drink was a common tool of political assassins, so it was customary for the host to drink from his guest’s glass before drinking from his own. That way he proved to his guest that the drink wasn’t poisoned. But if the guest trusted the host and felt that such proof was not necessary, he would clink his glass to the host’s. The toast probably evolved in conjunction with that signal.”

“Mr. Johnson and Mr. Slater must be getting all the history they could ever desire,” said Janeway. “Including the esoteric.”

“Oh, they’re getting their money’s worth,” said Lynne, amusement crinkling her eyes.

Janeway looked around the room, which bore no resemblance whatsoever to the standard Starfleet quarters she’d originally brought Lynne to. “So,” she said. “Do I get the twenty-five cent tour?”

At that, Lynne threw her head back and laughed. Janeway was both startled and pleased, having never heard her friend laugh until now. She must be adapting, she thought. It seemed to be a confirmation of her decision to let Lynne deal with the situation in her own way.

“You can absolutely have the twenty-five cent tour,” said Lynne, rising from her chair. “In fact, I’ll give you the fifty-cent tour and only charge you twenty-five.”

Janeway listened in fascination as Lynne explained the meaning behind her various pieces of art. Paintings, drawings, and other renditions of various mountains featured largely in the décor, and Lynne had climbed most of them. She had a story to tell about each one—some of humorous events, others of wildlife encounters or close calls with danger, and some simply of a moment of clarity while viewing the world from the summit. One prominent picture featured Denali, majestic but icily forbidding with its mantle of glaciers and snow.

“You’ve already heard the only story I have to tell about Denali,” said Lynne. “I hung this picture here because I have unfinished business with this mountain. Someday, when we get back, I’m going to finish what I started.”

Besides the mountains, the walls also featured framed pictures of fishes, birds, and other animals. A few plants graced the room, placed so that they complemented the furniture and the art. Janeway felt comfortable in these surroundings; the room had an aura of serenity. No wonder Lynne spent so much time in her quarters—they were quite inviting.

“My décor doesn’t have the history that yours does,” said Lynne as they finished the tour. “Obviously, this all came from the replicator. But I must say I had a hell of a good time creating it all. I’ve always had to save up my money before buying a single piece—a chair, or a framed print—but here I could just look through the pattern listings and call up what I wanted. It was an incredible luxury. I loved being outside in my old life, and usually tried to bring as much of the outside world inside my rooms as I could. I like fishes, birds and herps in particular, and always had prints and sculptures of them. It was…comforting to be able to recreate some of this.”

Janeway had looked at Lynne sharply when she’d said “in my old life,” but her friend’s expression hadn’t changed.

“What’s a herp?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry. It’s an abbreviation for…actually, I don’t know what it’s an abbreviation for! Anyway, it’s a reference to reptiles and amphibians.”

“Ah, herpetology,” said Janeway.

“Yes, but that’s the study of reptiles and amphibians. I’m not sure there’s even a word for the animals themselves that corresponds to herp. The word herpetology comes from Greek root words meaning a creeping thing. But if you’ve ever studied herps, you know that they move in practically every way except creeping. Sometimes I wonder if the scientists who originally came up with these names actually studied the animals they were naming.”

“The same thing could be said for today’s scientists,” said Janeway. “There’s a star in the Alpha quadrant named Tarak Far, which is a Vulcan term meaning a large, red object. But the star is a brown dwarf. Some of us suspect that the astronomer who named it had his instruments pointed in the wrong direction and just didn’t want to admit it.”

Lynne laughed again. “Some things don’t change, do they?” she said, shaking her head.

“No, they don’t. But fortunately, other things do,” said Janeway. “If they didn’t, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“Well now, that calls for another toast,” said Lynne, raising her glass. “To the scientists who invented and refined warp engines, enabling Voyager to be in the right time and place to save my butt.”

“Hear, hear,” said Janeway, and they clinked glasses again. She, too, was grateful that Voyager had found Lynne in time, but suspected that her reasons differed somewhat from Lynne’s. Lynne was just glad to have survived. Janeway, on the other hand, was beginning to get the feeling that Lynne’s presence on Voyager was going to have a significant impact on her own life. She only wished she knew that the feeling was reciprocated. Her friend had been warm, friendly, and polite, but as far as Janeway knew she was like that with everyone. She had no reason to believe that Lynne treated her differently than anyone else on the crew. It was true that Lynne seemed to enjoy their time together, but after all, Janeway had been the first person Lynne had known on the ship. The lure of the familiar, she thought with irony. To her, this was anything but familiar. The way she was feeling right now was strange and very, very different. She had often aesthetically appreciated the form of a female body—B’Elanna’s, for instance, or Seven of Nine’s, both of whom were beautiful women in their own ways. But this was the first time that her appreciation had gone beyond the aesthetic. She found her eyes drawn to the pendant sparkling in the hollow of Lynne’s throat, and wondered what it would be like to press a gentle kiss there. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image. This was inappropriate and wrong.

“Captain, are you all right?” asked Lynne.

Caught, Janeway said quickly, “I’m fine. Just a little headache.”

Lynne looked concerned. “Is there anything I can do? I’ve got some pretty spectacular drugs left over from the Doctor’s treatments.”

“I’m fine,” Janeway repeated. “It comes with the job.” But her attempt at a joke failed; Lynne’s expression did not change. She went for a diversion. “It’s all right, Lynne, really. But I am feeling a little hungry.”

“Of course,” said Lynne immediately, rising from the couch. “Our dinner is all programmed in; I just need to release the hold on the program.” She led her guest to the table and pulled out a chair for her, then moved to the replicator. Janeway sat down with a sense of relief. She’d have to watch herself far more carefully; Lynne was very observant.

The dinner was excellent and the conversation flowed easily, helped along by the bottle of Bajoran wine. Janeway asked about Lynne’s pendant, and learned that it was the closest thing Lynne could find in the database to a pendant she’d been given by a climbing friend.

“He told me it would keep me safe,” she said, “and even though I’m not much for superstition, I ended up wearing it constantly. I don’t know whether it was the pendant or not, but the fact is I always came home. And the really spooky part is that I wasn’t wearing it at Denali. I broke part of the mounting on a training climb and had to take it in for repairs, and it wasn’t fixed by the time I left for Alaska. I know that could be explained away with the law of probability, but things like that make me wonder whether science can really explain everything, or whether the spiritual doesn’t have more to do with things than we’d like to think.”

“Two years ago I would have been entirely on the side of science,” said Janeway. “But then I had a crash course in spirituality, and ever since then the lines have been far less distinct for me.” She told Lynne about the time when Kes, a friend and crewmate who was no longer with them, had been mortally injured by an energy source within a temple they were visiting. Exhausting every other possibility for a cure, Janeway had agreed to undergo a spiritual journey at the temple in the hopes of saving her friend. In the end, all of the facts and readings and scientific interpretations had come down to one choice:  she either had to believe that she could take Kes back into that same energy source without harm—despite all of the evidence showing that the energy would kill them both—or she had to give up and watch Kes die. She chose to believe, stepped into the energy beam, and watched in wonder as Kes woke in her arms and smiled at her.

Lynne was fascinated. “You know, Captain, that just shows that the more advanced our technology and science, and the more we learn, the more we prove that Shakespeare was right.”

“And what was he right about?” Janeway asked, settling back in anticipation of some new and totally unexpected direction of thought. Lynne’s thought processes kept her guessing, and she loved the novelty of it.

Lynne raised her glass and declaimed, “‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ I always thought Shakespeare wasn’t really limiting that comment to Horatio, but was speaking of us all.”

Janeway nodded. “You’re saying that while scientific knowledge may change over time, the essential truths never do—which is why words written eight hundred years ago can still apply today.”

“Yes, and thank goodness for that,” agreed Lynne. “Otherwise that Shakespeare class I was forced to take in college would be completely wasted here.”

Janeway laughed, shaking her head, and their discussion promptly took off in a new direction. Eventually they moved to the living area with their dessert, and Lynne put on Dvorak’s New World Symphony. Their conversation slowed and eventually stopped as both women focused all of their attention on the music; when the final pianissimo notes died away, Janeway agreed that it was a marvelous piece. This led to more discussion of art and music and the amazing diversity of tastes, which Janeway illustrated by first playing Risan jazz and then Klingon opera. Lynne loved the first and compared the second to a back-alley cat fight, making Janeway snort. Altogether it was one of the most enjoyable evenings Janeway had ever spent. Once again she lost track of time, and felt like an idiot when Lynne said, regretfully, that it was late and she would have to retire soon.

Goddammit, Kate, Janeway thought, you know better than that. The guest is always the one to suggest leaving first. She was dismayed at the failure of her diplomatic skills. She, who had negotiated treaties between warring races, had just flunked the basic social test of knowing when to leave.

But Lynne was gracious and gave no indication that she thought the evening had gone on too long; in fact, she thanked Janeway for staying and said warmly that she’d enjoyed her company, wished she could stay up longer, and could they have dinner again the next week? Janeway thought it was ironic that her friend had better manners than she did. Lynne was saying all the right things—maybe she should put her on diplomatic detail.

Once again, Lynne held her hand out to Janeway as they parted. As before, Janeway held it in both of her own, then let it go as she turned to leave. When the door closed behind her, she had only one thought in her mind.

How could she get through the six days until she saw Lynne again?

 

 

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Their dinners became a weekly event, usually featuring good food, interesting conversation, and a trading of musical examples. Lynne continued to be alternately horrified and thrilled at the music from her era that had survived, and loved to play samples of both the worst and the best for her guest. She seemed to get an equal enjoyment out of discovering new music, prompting Janeway to act as guide in that particular exploration. They began to trade “Best and Worst” of their centuries, more often than not ending up laughing helplessly over how truly awful the worst could be, regardless of era. Lynne had a screaming fit of laughter when Janeway played Ferengi romance songs, then returned the favor by demonstrating what she called “country twang” music—not to be confused with good country music, she cautioned—which largely seemed to feature trucks, dogs, dusty highways and lonely men. Janeway didn’t believe it when Lynne told her that this music had been wildly popular, but Lynne swore it was true. When Janeway observed that this might have been a contributing factor to the overall social decline that led to the third world war, Lynne nodded seriously and said, “Many of us predicted that exact thing.” Then her deadpan expression gave way to a wry grin, and Janeway couldn’t help but laugh. The thought occurred to her that she’d laughed more in the last few weeks than in the previous several years combined.

As time went by, she even found herself confiding in Lynne to a degree she would never have dreamed of at the beginning of their friendship. For five long years she had internalized everything and said next to nothing of her true feelings regarding her responsibilities, her private longings and needs, her lingering sense of guilt over Voyager’s stranding, and her driving need to return the crew safely home. Now that ingrained habit gradually dropped away, and she shared her inner thoughts freely. Lynne always listened seriously, never judged her, and often made her feel vastly better simply by acknowledging that she had a right to feel the way she did. Over the weeks she found that the burden of solitary command, which had been her constant companion for years, had magically shrunk to something far lighter and more manageable. At last she had someone to talk to as a friend and equal—she hadn’t realized how desperately she’d needed that until now. And her trust in Lynne was absolute. She’d been careful in the beginning, but no whisper of her initial confidences ever came back to her. On a ship this small, she knew that could only mean Lynne had kept their discussions entirely to herself. After that she gradually became more open, until it was as natural for her now to share a private thought with Lynne as it had been unthinkable before.

She was so happy with this new addition to her life that it never occurred to her to wonder why Lynne did not confide any similar worries, needs or sorrows. To Janeway’s view, Lynne seemed to have adjusted beautifully. She was warm in her friendship and quick with humor, but cool with her other emotions. She welcomed Janeway’s companionship but never seemed to need her, or anyone else for that matter. In the beginning Janeway had felt an intense relief at finding someone who did not require something from her, but as time passed, she eventually found herself in the unwelcome position of feeling a growing attraction for someone who showed no signs of returning her feelings. It was the one thing she couldn’t confide to Lynne, and she certainly was not going to talk to anyone else on the crew about it. And as with all things that cannot be shared, the lack of outlet simply made her feelings all the stronger, until they occupied a considerable portion of her mind.

Janeway found herself actually wishing for some good old-fashioned space battles to distract her, and got more than she bargained for a few weeks later when they found the Equinox. At first she and everyone else aboard Voyager had been thrilled to come across another Starfleet ship, but when the truth came out—that Captain Ransom and the remaining crew of Equinox were deliberately murdering individuals of an alien species in order to use their energy to power their ship—Janeway’s sense of betrayal grew into a rage that went completely out of bounds. When her battle with Ransom ended, she stood on a shattered bridge, the afterimage of the exploding Equinox still imprinted on her retinas and the weight of her recent actions crashing down on her. After making her peace with Chakotay, whom she admitted would have been well within his rights to mutiny against her, it was Lynne she went to for counsel and comfort. And it was Lynne’s quiet understanding, even when Janeway could hardly understand herself, that gave her the strength to pull herself together and go on.

After the Equinox, things were blissfully quiet for awhile. Janeway needed the time to recover, savoring the peace and swearing that she’d never wish for a battle to break the monotony again. She’d had more than her fill from the last one. But soon the daily bureaucratic grind of running a starship began to weigh on her once again, and personnel and departmental reports became nearly impossible to focus on. It took her twice as long to go through the reports, because her mind kept wandering to thoughts of her most recent conversation with Lynne.

Each week she saved the archeology departmental report for last, hoping to read something about her friend. Usually she was not disappointed. The scientists nearly always included some reference to Lynne’s contributions to their understanding of twentieth century Earth culture, especially her ability to fill in the tiniest details which were usually quite interesting. Once they called her “a priceless treasure,” causing Janeway to glow with pride.

One day almost three months after Lynne’s arrival, Janeway sat in her ready room, going through what she now termed GDRs—an acronym for Goddamned Departmental Reports. Stars may go nova and ships may be lost, she thought grumpily, but GDRs go on forever. At last she finished the penultimate report with a relieved sigh and reached for her reward. Activating the PADD from archeology, she scanned the report with interest, looking for Lynne’s name. When she found it, her smile of anticipation dropped away.

“We are concerned about Ms. Hamilton’s health. Over the past few weeks she has appeared more and more fatigued, and several times this week she had to be prompted before answering a question. This has never happened before. We do not know of her medical situation, but have considered that perhaps it may be wearing upon her to discuss what was, to her, a current time as if it were medieval history. We are also aware that, due to the lack of a ship’s counselor, she may not have received proper counseling for the loss of her friends and family. We have not discussed these concerns with Ms. Hamilton, but hope that the proper actions are being taken to insure these issues are addressed.”

Janeway threw the PADD onto her desk and swore out loud for a good fifteen seconds without repeating herself once. God, how could she have been so blind? Lynne had looked more tired the last two dinners, but Janeway had believed her when she’d explained that she’d just stayed up too late the previous nights.

You are a damned self-involved p’tagh, she thought. What happened to monitoring her and making sure she was doing all right? She knew darn good and well what had happened. Lynne had always seemed just fine, and Janeway had become so accustomed to being able to rely on her friend that she’d stopped checking to see if her friend needed her.

Well, that ended here. Their next dinner was tomorrow night in her quarters, and Kathryn Janeway was on a mission.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 9

 

 

Janeway took special care with her evening arrangements, trying to create an atmosphere that was as comfortable and peaceful as possible. The meal was a repeat of one she and Lynne had tried earlier to great success, and she’d even replicated what had become their favorite dessert, tiramisu. The audio system was programmed to play a selection of Lynne’s most loved classical music, starting with Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. She’d splurged on replicator rations for fresh flowers, remembering Lynne saying that she liked flowers because they brought the outdoors in with them. When the preparations were complete, she surveyed the result with satisfaction. Yes, the setting was good, she decided. But that was the easy part.

As always, Lynne activated her door chime a few minutes before 1800. Janeway picked up the gin and tonic that she had already replicated, called, “Come,” and pressed the glass into Lynne’s hand as soon as she entered. Lynne laughed and raised her glass as Janeway picked up her own drink.

“Here’s to people who know us well,” said Lynne.

“To friendship,” said Janeway. As they clinked glasses and drank, she observed her friend covertly. With a pang of guilt, she saw that there were lines around Lynne’s eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there earlier. She looked tired and stressed, despite the warm smile she gave Janeway as they walked across the room.

They sat on the couch and settled into their evening with the ease of familiarity, discussing a wide range of topics. But Janeway sipped her drink carefully, limiting her intake of alcohol while she monitored the conversation for the opening she needed. Tonight she had to be sharp.

It was late in the evening and dinner was a distant memory before the opening finally came. Lynne was describing the astrometrics file she’d seen that day, of a gas nebula Voyager had passed through several months before she came on board. “It was so incredibly beautiful,” she said, “the colors and textures—when I left Earth we’d just begun getting photographs of phenomena like that with our first space telescope, but they were nothing compared to this. I wish Cole had been here to see it—he loved astronomy. He would have flipped over that file.”

Normally Janeway would have asked about the idiom—it had become an ongoing joke between them that half the time Lynne spoke in a foreign language—but this time she ignored it and went straight for the heart of the statement.

“Lynne, why is it that you never talk about Cole, or your family, or any of the other people who were special to you? You mention their names and I know who they are, but I don’t know anything else about them.”

Just as it had during their first dinner three months ago, Lynne’s face closed down. “I don’t talk about them because it’s painful,” she said. “Can we change the subject?”

“No, we can’t,” said Janeway, injecting just an edge of command to her tone. Lynne stiffened, and Janeway realized that she’d never used that tone with her before. She purposely gentled her voice and continued, “Look, I know it hurts and I know you don’t want to talk about it. But you can’t go on like this, keeping it bottled up inside.”

“Captain…” Lynne began in a warning tone of voice, but Janeway interrupted her, holding up a hand.

“You’re not putting me off again. You did it before and I allowed it, but that was my mistake. Your physical and mental health are at risk if you don’t deal with this. You’re fatigued and distracted already; don’t let this go on.” She paused, giving Lynne the opportunity to respond. When her friend remained silent she added, “I know it’s natural to compartmentalize your feelings when they cause you pain, but you’re just hurting yourself more in the process. I can say this with complete authority because I myself am a master of the art.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Lynne said, “You’re a master of most arts. And I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well then, what are you going to do? How long will you shut all this inside? Until something gives? It will, sooner or later.”

Lynne said nothing, only watching Janeway warily. It was a behavior Janeway hadn’t observed since Lynne had first come on board, and it pained her to see her friend slipping back into that guarded posture. But she’d been thinking about this since yesterday, and it had occurred to her that Lynne might not be opening up about her feelings because of a belief that no one could possibly understand. This had a tinge of self-absorption to it, given the common experience of Voyager’s crew, and Janeway wasn’t averse to bringing that up.

“Look around you,” she said. “This whole ship is full of people who know what it’s like to lose everyone. We may not have lost our loved ones in both space and time, as you have, but there is every possibility that we will never see them again, and we’ve had to deal with that. We could help you deal with your pain, but you’ve been so self-absorbed that you don’t see you’re not the only one on board this ship who has experienced loss.”

Lynne’s head went back at this, a flash of anger crossing her face. Still she said nothing, only watching Janeway stubbornly, willing her to give it up. But she was in a battle of wills with a formidable opponent. Abruptly, Janeway changed tactics. Since making Lynne angry hadn’t worked, she’d try an emotional appeal. Setting her drink on the coffee table, she left her chair and moved to join Lynne on the couch, sitting well within her personal space. She put her hand on her friend’s knee and spoke in a gentle tone of voice.

“Lynne, please. You need to talk to someone. Our friendship has come to mean a lot to me, and it’s killing me to see you hurting like this. I want to help.” She saw Lynne’s body language softening, and knew she was on the right track. “I would hope that by now, after all the time we’ve spent together, you’d trust me enough to talk to me,” she continued. “And I mean really talk to me. I don’t want to hear what’s happening in the archeology lab or what you’ve learned from the databases or even your latest Worst Music of the Twentieth Century. I want to hear how you feel. And I wish you’d start by calling me Kathryn, because I don’t want you to talk to me as the captain of this ship. I want you to confide in me because we’re friends.”

Lynne’s eyes went wide with shock, and she stared silently at Janeway for several seconds. When she spoke at last, her voice was small and disbelieving.

“You want me to call you Kathryn?”

“Yes,” said Janeway, a little surprised at this response. “I’m sorry, I should have said that much earlier. I meant to. But I always got caught up in our conversations and forgot about it, and would never remember until we’d said goodnight and I was alone again. I want you to call me Kathryn because when I’m with you, I know you see me as a real person and not just the captain of this ship. It gives me the opportunity to relax and to say things that I could never say as a captain. That opportunity is incredibly precious to me—I can’t tell you how much.” She put her hand over Lynne’s. Somehow her approach had changed from tactical strategy to stark honesty, but she had to say this.

“If I never told you what our friendship means to me, then it’s long overdue. You’re unique. I can’t truly be friends with anyone else on Voyager; they’re all under my command. And I can’t treat a member of my crew as a full equal, because that’s the antithesis of command. But a good friendship can’t survive without that same equality. I may be on a ship carrying one hundred and forty people, but for five years I’ve been alone—until you came along. And now I have someone I can talk to, finally, and it has made such a difference to me. You’ve lightened my burden just by being here; just by listening. Now I want to do the same for you. Please let me. Please trust me.”

Lynne pulled her hand from under Janeway’s and put it to her mouth to stifle a sob, not quite successfully. Her eyes were shining with moisture, and she was obviously fighting for control. Finally she took her hand away and spoke in a voice that shook with the effort of holding back the tears.

“You don’t fight fair,” she said. “I’m at a low ebb today and you just hit me right where it counts. God, how could anyone resist a request like that?”

Janeway said nothing, giving Lynne the time she needed to get herself under control. A few moments later Lynne continued in a much stronger voice.

“You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. You’ve been special to me from the beginning; you’re such an extraordinary woman and I knew from the start that you were someone I wanted to get close to.” She sniffed and impatiently swiped an escaped tear from her face. “You’re the only real friend I have in my whole life right now, and that’s not even the slightest exaggeration. But all this time I’ve been calling you Captain and thinking that you were spending time with me at least partially out of some sense of duty.” She gave a bitter laugh. “You know, checking up to see how the living history book is faring.”

Now it was Janeway’s turn to be shocked. Lynne, so constantly self-assured and confident, doubting that Janeway wanted to be with her? She touched Lynne’s cheek gently. “That is absolutely not true. I did accept your initial invitation because I wanted to see how you were doing, but after that first night I came to dinner not out of any sense of duty, but because I wanted to be with you. Believe me, if I spent one night a week with every crew member who needed my attention, I’d never have time to do anything else. I look forward to our evenings together. I’m here right now because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and no one I’d rather be with.”

“Really?” Lynne choked back another sob. Her control was starting to slip again. “I didn’t think you…I mean…oh god, I’ve felt so alone.”

Janeway put her arms around Lynne and hugged her gently. “You’re not alone, Lynne. I’m right here. I have been all along.”

At first Lynne’s body was stiff, but then Janeway felt arms go around her as Lynne rested her head on her shoulder. That seemed to be as far as she was willing to go, however—she said nothing more. Janeway suppressed a sigh, knowing that Lynne would feel it, and tried again.

“Talk to me,” she said softly. “You’re killing yourself trying to hold it all in. Let it go.”

She felt Lynne shake her head. Her next words were muffled, but Janeway heard them well enough for her own heart to ache.

“I can’t. I can’t, Kathryn. It hurts too much.” A sob broke from her then, but Lynne took a deep breath and regained control, her body rigid with the effort.

Janeway moved one hand to the back of Lynne’s head, holding it to her shoulder with a gentle pressure, and gently rubbed her back with the other. “Yes, you can,” she whispered. “It’s all right. I won’t let go until you do. I want to help you; please let me help you. It hurts me to see you like this. Please talk to me.” She continued to rub Lynne’s back, whispering in her ear. Another sob broke through, then another. Then the dam crumbled at last, and Lynne wept, clinging to Janeway in a fierce grip and shuddering as the sobs racked her body. Janeway held her and whispered words that made little sense, but she knew that her tone mattered more than anything she could say. The sobs went on and on, until finally they lessened in strength and became gasps, then shuddering intakes of breath, and then at last Lynne raised her head and pulled back from Janeway’s embrace, her face drawn and wet with tears. She wiped her eyes and stared at the captain, studying her with an unreadable expression. Janeway bore the examination without a word, conveying all the affection and compassion that she could in her silence. What she didn’t dare convey was how right it had felt to hold Lynne in her arms, and how she wished she could hold her again, in a different time, with no tears between them.

Lynne reached out and caressed Janeway’s cheek once, very gently, then dropped her hand again. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” said Janeway, every cell in her face burning with that innocent caress. But she did not move. Lynne was very vulnerable at this moment, and she knew that her friend needed to reestablish control. Still, she was surprised when Lynne abruptly rose from the couch and excused herself. Then she heard water running in the ensuite, and understood. The water stopped and a few moments later Lynne emerged, her face scrubbed and pink. She went straight to the replicator and paused in front of it. “May I?”

“Of course,” said Janeway, expecting Lynne to refill her drink.

But when Lynne came back to the couch, her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, facing Janeway with her back against the armrest. “Hot cocoa,” she explained. “The best comfort food in the world, and do I ever need it now.” She sipped the drink and exhaled with a sigh of appreciation. “I feel like a shuttle ran me over, backed up, and ran over me again.”

Janeway couldn’t help but laugh at Lynne’s attempt to modernize her idioms, and Lynne’s lips quirked into something that was almost a smile. “I’m serious. This is really embarrassing for me—here we’re avowed best friends for all of five minutes and you’ve already seen me at my absolute worst. I can count the number of times I’ve cried like that, at least in front of someone, on the fingers of one hand.”

Janeway understood this perfectly.

“That wasn’t seeing you at your worst, that was seeing you at your most vulnerable. There’s a difference. You’re one of the strongest people I have ever known, and believe me, I don’t think any less of you because I’ve seen you cry. In fact, I think you were long overdue for it.”

“Well, thank you,” said Lynne, looking unconvinced. She sipped her cocoa again, then raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me out of here until I talk, will you?”

“I have an alpha red encryption code on the door,” said Janeway seriously. “To release it, you have to talk for at least ten minutes, and I don’t mean about the décor.”

“You may get more than you bargained for.”

Janeway rolled her eyes. “Stop stalling and talk.”

Lynne smiled weakly and leaned back against the sofa arm. She stared into her mug for long minutes, then spoke at last.

“I don’t really know where to start. Sometimes I think about the incredible odds against me surviving the destruction of that ship, and you finding me in time, and I think I should be grateful. How can I feel so bad when I’m alive?” She looked up, seemingly waiting for some sort of censure, but Janeway just nodded.

“You do have a lot to be grateful for,” she said. “But you’ve also lost more than anyone should ever have to lose.”

“So have you. You were right about that. And you never got to say goodbye to your loved ones either, did you?”

“Yes and no,” said Janeway. “Everyone in Starfleet knows that you say goodbye to your friends and family when you ship out. But this was supposed to be a short cruise; none of us said the kind of goodbye that’s meant to last for a year-long deep space expedition. But at least we had some closure, which is more than you did.”

“No,” said Lynne softly. “I didn’t. And that’s been the worst thing of all. It’s bad enough that I’ve lost everyone, but the worst thing is that I never got to say goodbye. Everyone I loved—they must have been in hell for years, without a prayer of closure. Mom and Dad, Cole, my best friend Janet…” She trailed off and took a sip of her hot cocoa. “It must have killed them to never know what happened to me. I’m sure they all hung on, waiting for a miracle, or at least for proof of my death so they could move on. I know for a fact that never knowing is the worst kind of hell, because I’ll never know what happened to them, either.” She looked at Janeway with an expression of pure anguish. “I’ll never know anything. Did Cole find someone else to love, someone who made him happy? Did Janet beat the odds? Her mother died of cervical cancer, and she was so worried about being high risk…and then my parents—oh god, my parents. This must have crushed them. Mom always worried about me when I was climbing, and I always told her I’d be okay. It wasn’t that I thought I was immortal, just that I somehow knew I’d be fine. And you know, I was right. I’m here, fit and healthy, and she’s been dead for hundreds of years, and I don’t even know how she died.” Her voice had become bitter, and anger flashed in her eyes. “I’ve read the literature on survivor guilt. I know the stages. I know intellectually that anger is just one stage, but what I feel is so far beyond anger. I’m enraged. I hate those aliens for what they did to me, and especially for what they did to everyone I loved. They took everything from me, and invaded my body on top of it. I feel violated. I wish they’d died more painful and more prolonged deaths than they did. I wish I’d been awake to kill them personally, because I am so fucking angry, and there’s nothing I can do with it!”

She slammed her mug onto the coffee table with such force that the glass top cracked, making Janeway wince. The crack channeled the cocoa that had sloshed out of the mug, and both women watched as the brown fluid ran to the edge of the table and slowly dripped onto the floor. Janeway quietly got up, retrieved the napkins from the dining table, tossed them under the spill and sat back down. She hadn’t expected to be replacing furniture, but the emotion that was pouring out of Lynne now was far more important than a tabletop.

Lynne was staring at the crack in the glass, all the anger gone from her face as suddenly as it had come. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break your table.”

“I know you didn’t, and don’t worry about it,” said Janeway. “I can replicate a new one.”

Lynne looked up, her eyes shining with tears. “Can you replicate me a new heart while you’re at it? Because mine’s shattered far worse than that glass, and I don’t know how to fix it. I feel so much pain and anger and hatred, and I’ve been bottling it up because I’m afraid that letting go is going to end up with someone or something getting hurt, and nobody here deserves that. Least of all you. And then, on top of all this rage, there’s an overwhelming, desperate sorrow. I miss them so desperately, and I’m just lost without them.” Her face crumpled, and she leaned her head on the back of the couch. “God, it hurts,” she whispered, the tears overflowing. “It hurts so much. I don’t know how to describe it. I feel so sorry for the people I loved, sorry for what they went through, sorry I never got to say goodbye, sorry I never got to see what happened to them, sorry for everything. And then I think, why do I care? They stopped feeling centuries ago. I’m tying myself up in knots for something that doesn’t matter anymore, and somehow that hurts more than anything else.” She closed her eyes and was quiet.

Janeway’s heart ached to witness this kind of pain. She leaned over and took her friend’s hand, watching as green eyes opened and met hers.

“Lynne,” she said quietly, “It does matter. It matters because your feelings are real, regardless of how long your loved ones have been gone. You can’t simply turn off your heart like a burned-out plasma coil—it just doesn’t work that way. If you know about the stages of grief then you know it’s okay to mourn. I’m sure the people you loved would never have wanted you to hurt like this.”

Lynne squeezed her hand. “I know. But I can’t help it.”

“No,” said Janeway. “But you have to work through it. Trust me, I know that from experience. And you won’t have to work through it alone.”

Lynne didn’t answer; her attention seemed riveted to their clasped hands. “Thank you,” she said at last. “Truly. I don’t know if I can express how much it means to me to have you here right now.” She looked up. “And I really am sorry about your table.”

“I’m here for as long as you need me, and forget the fucking table.”

Lynne’s eyes opened wide. “I’ve never heard you swear before.” She looked so shocked that Janeway laughed.

“Well, let’s just say that I’m getting into the spirit of letting go. It seems to be the theme of the evening. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Lynne.” She paused. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, too, but I’d like to learn.”

“Would you?”

There was an almost painful doubt in Lynne’s face, and Janeway wanted to scoop her into her arms and make it go away. Instead she just smiled and said, “Yes. I would. So keep going. Fill me in on what you’ve been holding back.”

Lynne looked at her in silence for several seconds, then nodded. “I’d like that too. I mean, knowing you better. But if you want me to fill you in, you’re in for a long evening.”

“I don’t have any other plans.” And Janeway settled herself on the couch.

For the next several hours, Lynne talked about the special people in her life—her parents, her boyfriend, her best friend, even some amusing stories about people she’d worked with. Both she and Janeway laughed and cried over the stories, and Janeway felt that her quarters were gradually becoming populated with the ghosts of Lynne’s past. The detailed stories were giving them form and feature, and sometimes Janeway thought she could almost see them. When at last Lynne stopped speaking, Janeway attempted to verbalize this thought somehow.

“Lynne, Voyager hasn’t gotten this far without losing some of her crew. We’ve all mourned their deaths, and I think I’ve dropped five years off my life span for each crew member I’ve lost. But I honestly believe that people never really die as long as they’re remembered. When we talk about them, laugh over something they said once or some habit they had, their spirit stays alive in some form. It’s only when we fall silent and never mention their names again that they are truly lost.

“Your parents, and Cole, and Janet, and all your loved ones were dead before. But now they’re here with us, in some form. Right here, right now. You’ve brought some part of them back to life, and I feel that I know them in some small way; that I would recognize them from your stories. And now that there are two of us remembering them, their spirits are that much stronger.”

Lynne looked at her in astonishment. “You keep surprising me. You’re right, there’s a lot I don’t know about you. I mean, that was really quite profound.”

Janeway pretended indignation. “You think I can’t be profound?”

Lynne laughed, and Janeway was delighted to hear it. She realized that it had been several weeks since she’d last heard Lynne laugh, and castigated herself again for waiting so long to force the issue. But then she thought of how stubborn Lynne had been even tonight, how hard she’d had to push, and it occurred to her that an earlier approach might simply have failed. Maybe tonight was the night.

“You know, sometimes you really remind me of my friend Casey,” Lynne said.

“You haven’t mentioned her before.”

“I know. She’s a part of my past that I don’t bring up very often, even when I’m not trying to hold everything in. Casey was one of a kind. Like you in many ways—strong, independent, frighteningly brilliant, hard to get to know. It took me a long time to get past the walls she had up. But once she let me in, it was worth the effort. We could tell each other everything, things we’d never tell anyone else, and know that the other would never be judgmental. We joked that we knew so much dirt on each other that it amounted to the emotional equivalent of a nuclear standoff—if either of us ever shot off the first strike, the other could immediately respond with enough firepower to annihilate. She was one of the most amazing women I’ve ever had the privilege to know.” She paused, looking at Janeway with an almost daring expression, and then dropped a bombshell. “She was also the first woman I ever fell in love with, and the only person—male or female—that I truly loved in an unselfish way. I’ve let other lovers go because I didn’t care enough, but I had to let Casey go because I cared too much.”

Janeway was riveted. This was certainly news—she’d had no idea that Lynne had ever loved another woman. A part of her began weighing the possibilities, but she pushed that part back and closed the door on it. “How could you care too much?” she asked.

“Easy,” said Lynne, “when you love someone who can’t love you in the same way. I’ve always felt that love is about the person within, not necessarily the body they inhabit, but that wasn’t a very common viewpoint in my day. Casey was pretty typical of most North Americans in that she couldn’t imagine loving another woman in any manner beyond friendship. And I knew that, so I never mentioned my true feelings. But then there were occasions when she would say or do something that made me wonder if perhaps she didn’t feel something else for me, too. Several times I almost said something, but always backed out. I knew that if I was wrong, a conversation like that could destroy our friendship. And what we had was so precious to me that I just couldn’t risk it.

“So I never said a word to her about how I really felt, and then I had to watch when she eventually married a perfectly nice man who loved her very much, but just wasn’t right for her. Casey and I both lived in Colorado at the time, but after she got married, she and her husband moved to California. We stayed best friends, so I heard about every stage of their relationship—falling in love, learning to live together, falling out of love, and the final breakup. It took her about five years to decide to leave. One day she called me and said she was coming back to Colorado and would see me in a few days. She sounded happier and more like her old self than she had for years. I couldn’t wait to see her.”

Lynne paused, her expression pensive. Somehow Janeway knew this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending. After a few moments of silence she said gently, “Did she come back?”

Lynne looked up sharply, as if she’d been jolted back to the present. “She tried. She didn’t make it.” Janeway could see the effort it was costing Lynne to continue, and for a moment she thought her friend might not go any further. Then Lynne rubbed her hand over her face and spoke again.

“She was driving a rented van across the Rockies in the middle of winter, and even though her winter driving skills were fine, the guy who hit her wasn’t as experienced. Unfortunately, he was in a semi. That’s a freight truck about forty feet long and very heavy depending on the load,” she explained, obviously seeing Janeway’s look of confusion. “He came around a curve too fast, broke loose on the ice, and slid right into Casey in a head-on collision. She never knew what hit her. I got a phone call that night from her husband. He said he was flying into town and would I pick him up at the airport and take him to the morgue?” Lynne’s eyes held an old pain as she looked at Janeway. “Not the hospital, the morgue. The medical examiner assured us that Casey probably didn’t feel a thing and died instantly, but that was small comfort. I went straight home, opened a bottle of vodka, and didn’t stop drinking for two months.” She gave Janeway a sad smile. “Have you ever noticed that I don’t touch vodka? That’s why. I nearly killed myself with it, and ever since then even the thought of it makes me a little ill.”

As if prompted by her own story, she looked at her nearly empty mug. “I need a refill, and I promise not to splash it all over your table this time. Do you want anything?” Janeway shook her head; her glass was still half full. Lynne mopped up the spill, took the mug and the napkins to the replicator, and was soon back with a second cup of cocoa. She looked up at Janeway as she blew across the top of her steaming drink. “This is definitely a two-cocoa evening.”

Janeway watched her sip the hot drink. “I can see now why not being able to say goodbye is the hardest part for you,” she said. “This isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

“No, it’s not,” said Lynne. “And Casey’s death was even worse in some ways, because she died never knowing how I felt about her. I kept thinking that maybe things would have been different if I’d had the courage to speak up years earlier. I know, I know,” she said, holding up her hand to forestall Janeway’s comment. “I can’t beat myself up over what might have been, especially when there was such a vanishingly small chance that Casey could have returned my feelings. But what my head understands and what my heart feels can be two completely different things. My heart wondered if maybe she felt the same, but was too afraid to say anything—who knows? Maybe we had a chance. Maybe if I’d spoken up, she wouldn’t have been on that road that night, and she’d still be alive. I carried a huge load of guilt and self-recrimination, and then spent years trying to make up for it by telling everyone exactly how I felt about them. I never wanted that to happen again.”

She laughed shortly. “Eventually I figured out that too much honesty is just as bad as not enough—people don’t always want to hear exactly what you think or feel. So I came back to a happy medium, but after that I made sure that the people who mattered to me knew how I felt about them. It does give me some small consolation to know that when I vanished off Denali, there were no words of love left unspoken. It makes not having been able to say goodbye just a tiny bit easier. But to this day I regret not taking the risk with Casey. It’s possible that I might have lost her friendship by speaking up, but it’s absolutely certain that I lost a potential soulmate because I was too afraid.” She paused to sip her cocoa again. “Of course, now it’s completely irrelevant. I’d have lost her anyway.”

Janeway’s mind was whirling. She’d been attracted to Lynne for months now, but tonight she suddenly felt that what she’d been attracted to was merely the shell of the real woman. The Lynne she was seeing this evening showed a depth of emotion, passion and vulnerability that touched Janeway in a way she hadn’t felt for a long time. It was as if a part of her heart, long walled-off and heavily armored, suddenly stood blinking in the bright light of day. She had the feeling that if she just took a little step and reached out, she could grasp something truly special—if Lynne shared her attraction. That was a big if. She had to admire the true irony of the moment—Lynne’s story was a perfect description of her own situation. It was also a warning of the possible consequences of not reaching out. Janeway, who had risked life, limb and ship more times than she could count, was positively terrified of risking her heart—but she was also terrified of losing a chance and regretting it the rest of her life. There was nothing in the world to prevent her from having a relationship with Lynne except the other woman’s feelings. But no rules or regulations held her back. Duty didn’t come into the equation. She was free to pursue her options—as long as she had the courage to do so.

She made a snap decision. Tonight was magical; these hours of conversation had brought them closer than ever before. There was an intimacy and comfort that hadn’t been there earlier, and who knew if it would be this strong at their next dinner, when they’d each had a week to think about things that were said and perhaps retreat behind a wall or two?

“It’s not irrelevant,” she said at last. “Nobody else can cause us the kind of pain we can cause ourselves. I understand exactly why you chose not to risk your friendship with Casey.” She paused, then took the plunge. “I’ve been afraid to speak to you about how I feel for the very same reasons.”

Lynne’s distant expression fell away, and she stared wide-eyed at Janeway. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then she seemed to shake herself. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

In for a shuttle, in for a ship, thought Janeway. The startled expression on Lynne’s face would have been amusing at any other time, but all she could feel right now was resolute determination and a healthy dose of fear. “If you think I said that I have strong feelings for you, and that I’d like to take our relationship to the next level if you feel the same way—then yes, I did.” She leaned forward, as if physical proximity could engender the emotional connection she was craving. “Lynne, you know better than anyone where I’m standing right now. I value our friendship more than I can tell you, and I don’t want to lose it—so if you don’t feel the same way, just tell me and I promise it will never come up again. Please don’t let it affect what we have.” Her voice shook slightly, but she pressed on. “But if you do share my feelings, and if you’re willing to take a chance with me, I believe we could have a great deal more.” She set her drink on the coffee table with a decisive click, crossed her arms over her chest, and regarded Lynne frankly, hoping that the terror she was feeling didn’t show.

“If I’m willing?” said Lynne faintly. “Jesus Christ on a cracker, you have no idea! I don’t…I didn’t…” she stopped, and then broke into an incredulous laugh. “You are just full of surprises tonight. That’s the last thing I ever expected. I don’t know what to say.”

“A condition that with you is rare and probably short-lived, so I should take advantage of it while it lasts.” Janeway’s heart had leaped at Lynne’s reaction, and she didn’t need words to see the emotions in the other woman’s face. She dropped her arms and leaned forward, very slowly. Lynne’s hand came up and she touched Janeway’s cheek gently, looking at her in wonderment. Janeway paused, turning her face into the caress, then closed the distance between them and touched her lips to the hollow in Lynne’s throat. She’d wanted to do that for so long. Lynne’s head fell back and Janeway gently kissed her way up her throat and over her jaw, then pulled away to look at her.

Lynne raised her head and when her eyes opened, they were startlingly green. She ran one hand up through Janeway’s hair to the back of her head, pulling her forward with a light pressure. Their lips met in a tentative kiss that gradually grew stronger, more urgent, and when the two women finally separated they were both breathing hard. They regarded each other for a moment, then moved together again as if of one impulse, this time in a kiss so powerful that Janeway could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. Lynne’s hands were on each side of Janeway’s face, holding her as if she didn’t want her to move a centimeter—not that Janeway had the slightest intention of doing any such thing. The hands traveled down her shoulders and back, over to either side of her waist, and then she lost track of them as the kiss demanded all of her attention. She had never been this aroused from a simple kiss before. Five years of celibacy were beating at her self control, and all she wanted was to take Lynne into the bedroom and tear all of her clothes off as soon as possible. It was this thought that caused her to suddenly break the embrace and move back, putting a little distance between herself and this woman that she wanted so badly.

Lynne was surprised at the abrupt end to their embrace. Her face asked the question long before she spoke. “What’s wrong?”

Janeway was horrified at what she’d nearly done. It was one thing to take advantage of this magical evening to speak out about her feelings. It was something entirely different to take advantage of Lynne herself. What was she thinking? Lynne was more vulnerable now than she’d ever been, and this was not the time for Janeway to be pushing a physical encounter. No matter how much I desperately want it, she thought ruefully.

“We can’t do this tonight,” she said.

Lynne still looked bewildered. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not right. You’re vulnerable, and I don’t want to take advantage of that. I want our first time together to be because we both want it for the right reasons, not because we need it for the wrong ones.” It was hard to say one thing when her whole being was straining toward something else, but she knew it was better in the long run. She was used to putting off her own needs for the greater good; it came with the territory of being a captain.

She hadn’t counted on the possibility that Lynne might not appreciate her sacrifice, and winced when she saw the anger that suddenly flashed across the face so close to her own.

“Goddammit, Kathryn, you are not doing this to me! How dare you come on to me like a ton of bricks and then tell me it’s not the right thing to do?” Lynne abruptly got up from the couch and walked a few steps away, her back toward Janeway. She stood for a few moments, then turned around and fixed Janeway with a level stare. “You say you value our relationship because I see you as a woman and not the captain. But you’re acting like a captain right now. It’s not your responsibility to decide what’s best for me. Last I checked, it was still my job to decide what I want and what I need, and right now, I want and need you.”

Janeway was startled. Lynne certainly didn’t sound vulnerable. And was she acting like the captain?

Lynne must have seen the surprise and indecision on her face, because she closed the distance between them once more and leaned over, resting her hands on the back of the couch on either side of Janeway’s shoulders. Trapped, Janeway looked up into Lynne’s face. The anger was gone. In a much softer voice, Lynne said, “Okay, you’ve told me what you think is right. Now tell me what you want.”

Janeway’s first impulse was to protect her friend by saying she wanted them to wait. But as she looked into those green eyes, the thought came to her that Lynne wasn’t asking for protection. She was asking for the truth. Janeway knew she couldn’t start a relationship like this with a lie, no matter how well-intentioned.

“What I want,” she said at last, her voice low and husky, “is to feel your skin against mine. I want to tear your clothes off and make love to you all night. I want physical contact, because I’ve been without it for five years and it’s all catching up to me right now. And that’s what scares me, Lynne—I want you so badly that I’m afraid of somehow hurting you in the process.”

They stared at each other for a long, heavy moment, as Janeway waited for the consequences of her admission. She’d taken the step; now it was out of her hands.

“Earlier tonight,” said Lynne quietly, “you told me that you trust me implicitly. I trust you implicitly as well. I trust you not to hurt me. And if two people enter a relationship on the basis of that kind of faith, don’t you think it’s the right time?” She leaned in and brushed her lips over Janeway’s, then moved her mouth to Janeway’s ear and spoke in a whisper that sent a shiver down the captain’s spine. “We’ll just take it very, very slow.”

Then she treated Janeway to a demonstration.

Still trapped between Lynne’s arms, Janeway could only close her eyes as she felt lips touch her ear, gently tug on her ear lobe, and then make an agonizingly slow progression of soft kisses down her neck and across the underside of her jaw. She let her head fall back and was rewarded with a continuation of gentle kisses down her throat to the collar of her shirt. She felt the couch shift as Lynne transferred her weight to one hand, and then a single finger hooked into the collar of her shirt, pulling it to one side to expose more skin for exploration. The soft kisses began alternating with tiny nips as Lynne touched every bit of skin she could reach around Janeway’s collar. Just as Janeway was ready to tear her own shirt over her head, the collar was released and she felt that single finger slowly and gently drawing a path down the front of her shirt, between her breasts, over her stomach and then—it was gone. Janeway opened her eyes just in time to see Lynne lower her head, and then she felt the soft pressure of kisses through her shirt. They roved all over her chest and stomach, occasionally touching the underside of her breasts but never going closer to her nipples, which by now were so hard they almost hurt. Her entire being focused on where those kisses were not going, and the skin that they weren’t touching. She ached with the desire to end this torture by pulling off her shirt and guiding Lynne’s lips to where she wanted them to go. But she remained still, allowing her partner to set the pace.

The kisses stopped and the finger returned, drawing another path down Janeway’s chest, but this time circling closer around her breasts. When a thumb finally brushed across Janeway’s nipple, the sensation nearly overwhelmed her and she couldn’t restrain a moan. Fingers gently touched and rubbed first one nipple and then the other, until Janeway was lost in the pleasure of her sensations. Finally, after what had seemed like hours of silence, Lynne spoke.

“Kathryn, don’t you think there’s entirely too much fabric between you and me?”

Janeway had never agreed with anything so fervently in her life. She began pulling her shirt from her waistband, but a pair of hands stopped her.

“Let me,” whispered Lynne. She knelt on the floor in front of the couch and finished pulling the shirt out, then began to push it up, centimeter by agonizing centimeter, kissing and nuzzling Janeway’s skin as it was revealed. When she reached the bra she paused long enough to hook her thumbs under it, then lifted shirt and bra together. Immediately the soft kisses and nips focused on a breast, circling around, moving ever closer to the nipple, and then—just when Janeway’s whole body tensed in anticipation—they transferred to the other breast, beginning the same slow torture.

Janeway’s head fell back against the couch and she let out a groan of frustration. She could feel Lynne smile against her, but the lips followed the same pattern, stopping just before they reached the nipple and moving to the other breast. Lynne repeated this torture once more, and then, without warning, Janeway felt warm lips close over the nipple which had been left so cruelly moments before. Her back arched and she cried out, unable to stop herself. After such a long and agonizing prologue, the sensations were so intense that she thought her brain might short out. Lynne was focused now, slowly sucking, rolling and gently biting first one nipple and then the other, until Janeway was very near orgasm, and rational thought was rapidly slipping away. Before she lost it altogether, she managed to gasp out, “Lynne...Lynne! Wait…”

“What?” asked Lynne, looking up at her.

Janeway held her lover’s head between her trembling hands. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable,” she said.

Without a word Lynne stood and extended her hands. Janeway allowed herself to be pulled up and immediately fell against her lover, her legs trembling so badly that they could barely support her. Lynne took advantage of the moment to pull her into a deep, intense kiss, then wrapped her arm around Janeway’s waist and walked her into the bedroom. They paused at the side of the bed for another long kiss, and then Lynne gently pushed Janeway down until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Kneeling once more, she removed Janeway’s boots, socks and pants, leaving her underwear. Janeway’s shirt had fallen back down during their walk into the bedroom, but Lynne made no move toward it. Instead, she guided Janeway’s legs onto the bed and then sat down next to her. Moments later, having removed her own shoes and socks, she relaxed alongside Janeway and propped her head up on one elbow, regarding her new lover’s face with an expression of intense desire and something else that Janeway couldn’t identify. At last she spoke.

“Shall I go on, or would you like to stop here until you think I’m ready?”

Janeway said something that could have peeled paint off the wall, and Lynne laughed delightedly. Her laughter was cut short, however, when Janeway suddenly pulled her supporting arm out while simultaneously pushing on her other shoulder, using the momentum of Lynne’s fall to lever her own body up. Before Lynne could blink, she was on her back with Janeway’s body covering her own.

“Wow,” she said. “You’ll have to teach me that move.”

“Oh, I plan to teach you any number of moves,” growled Janeway. She covered Lynne’s mouth in a kiss that was almost bruising, letting off just a touch of her frustration. Lynne had made her point more than adequately, and Janeway was ready to return the favor.

Reaching toward the top button of Lynne’s shirt, Janeway used her lover’s own technique against her, taking long minutes to undo each button and thoroughly explore the exposed skin before moving to the next. She passed right between Lynne’s breasts without touching them, but noticed to her delight that Lynne wore no bra. When at last the final button was undone, she sat up, slowly spread the shirt and stared with undisguised admiration. Lynne’s breasts were full and firm, tipped with coral, and her chest and abdomen showed the unmistakable signs of months in the weight room, rebuilding her body after her long stasis. Janeway thought she had never seen anything so stunning. She looked up into her lover’s face and smiled. “You are so beautiful.”

Lynne returned the smile, then sat up and pulled Janeway into a heated kiss. Slipping her hands inside the shirt, Janeway treated herself to the feel of Lynne’s skin and the fine muscles of her back. She broke off the kiss and looked at Lynne’s braid. “I’ve been thinking about this for some time,” she said as she pulled the band off the end and began raking her fingers through the thick hair, releasing it into a mass of brown and silver.

Lynne put her head back and made a sound of utter contentment. “You have no idea how good that feels,” she said. “You could do that all night and I’d be perfectly happy.”

“Do you want me to?” asked Janeway, half teasing and half serious.

“Yes. Tomorrow night.” Lynne raised her head, and the expression on her face left no doubt as to what she wanted this night.

Accepting the invitation, Janeway pushed Lynne’s shirt off her shoulders and halfway down her arms, trapping them in a gentle bond. Lowering her head, she fastened her lips over a nipple and began to suck it, first gently, and then—spurred on by Lynne’s soft cries—hard enough to turn it red. Shifting to the other, she gave it the same attention, and then began alternating back and forth, occasionally interrupting long enough to gently bite the underside of a breast, causing Lynne to cry out and throw her head back.

Eventually Janeway paused, knowing that Lynne could not sit up in that position for much longer. Pulling the shirt the rest of the way off, she freed Lynne’s arms and guided her down, then removed her pants and underwear as well. At last her lover lay fully nude before her. She delighted in the long legs and defined muscles, and as her eyes roved she noticed a glint from the juncture of those legs. Lynne was extremely aroused, if the amount of moisture there was any indication, and Janeway suddenly felt a resurgence of her own arousal. Pulling her shirt and bra over her head, she lowered her body on top of Lynne’s, reveling in the extraordinary feel of their breasts pressing together, and their lips met in a kiss that seemed to dwarf those they’d shared earlier. Lynne’s hips began to move under her, and Janeway matched the rhythm, marveling that she could be so incredibly aroused and still have her underwear on. When the rhythm increased in tempo, Janeway rolled off and smiled at Lynne’s sound of protest.

“We’re not there yet,” she cautioned.

Lynne released her breath in a gusty sigh. “You’re going to kill me.”

“You should never start what you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I could finish this if you’d let—” Her voice failed when Janeway took a nipple in her mouth once more, simultaneously sliding her hand down Lynne’s abdomen to her groin. She was amazed at the intense heat she felt there. Leaving the nipple, she once more began a slow progress of touches and nibbles down Lynne’s chest and abdomen, skipped over her hand, and continued down one thigh. Pulling her hand away and shifting position, she came back up the other thigh, then dipped down the inner side, dangerously close to the thatch of dark brown hair. Lynne moved her legs apart, but she needn’t have bothered; Janeway had other ideas. Lying beside her lover once more, she propped her head on her elbow so that she could watch Lynne’s face, then slid her other hand down the abdomen once more, and finally, delicately, parted the slick folds. Dipping one finger into the abundant moisture, she lubricated the clitoris and then began to rub her finger over it, so gently that she was barely touching it at all.

Lynne’s reaction was immediate as her hips began undulating in a rhythm that started slowly but soon picked up speed. Several times she pressed up against Janeway’s hand, seeking to increase the pressure, but Janeway just pulled back and continued to lightly touch the bundle of nerves. After awhile she stopped moving her hand at all except to maintain the light pressure, and watched in fascination as Lynne immediately picked up the slack, rubbing herself against Janeway’s hand. Her hips moved faster and faster as her cries increased, until at last her body jerked uncontrollably in orgasm. Carefully maintaining the same pressure, Janeway resumed her gentle stroking, driving her partner through the orgasm and out the other side. When the shuddering stopped, Janeway slowed and then ceased her movement, but never removed her hand as she covered her lover’s neck and face with kisses.

Lynne lay still for long moments, then turned her head and opened her eyes at last to find Janeway smiling down at her.

“That was torture,” said Lynne in a rasping voice.

“I know,” Janeway responded. “I’m about to make it up to you.”

Sitting up, Janeway began scooting backwards, trailing kisses down Lynne’s body all the while—and pausing for a return visit to her breasts—until she had positioned herself between those long legs. The scent of Lynne’s arousal was clean and delicate, and although Janeway had never before been in this situation, she didn’t hesitate to run her tongue up the cleft and around the hard little bundle at its top. Lynne’s body jerked, and Janeway settled in for long enjoyable minutes of teasing and suckling. Lynne’s flavor was mild and she found it enticing.

As she continued her ministrations, Lynne’s hips began slowly moving once more. The build-up didn’t take long, however, and the tempo increased dramatically when Janeway at last penetrated her partner with one finger, then two. The sensation of warm, slick walls pressing on her fingers, as well as Lynne’s loud cry, sent her own arousal soaring. She curled her fingers up and pulled them nearly out, then straightened them and pushed them back in, setting up a rhythm. Between the penetration and the loving attention she lavished with her mouth, it seemed to take no time at all before Lynne’s body again convulsed in orgasm. Her fingers were squeezed by the inner muscles, and she was fascinated by the strength hidden there. When the last twitch died away and Lynne lay still once more, Janeway gently pulled her fingers out, finding it more difficult than she expected, and crawled back up to lie next to her panting lover. Lynne rolled half over and threw one leg over Janeway’s body, nestling her head just below her shoulder. Without opening her eyes, she said, “I forgive you. You made it up quite well.”

Janeway laughed and stroked her lover’s hair, feeling that she’d never been so happy—except for the fact that her own need was now so strong that she was sure she could bite through solid duranium. And it didn’t look like she was going to get her release any time soon, because Lynne was draped over her like a rag doll and gave every appearance of going to sleep. Well, she thought ruefully and with not a little pride, it’s my own fault. I wiped her out.

“I’m not asleep,” murmured Lynne, causing Janeway to wonder if she had suddenly become telepathic. “I’m just floating. Give me a few minutes…” But still she did not move, and her breathing became slow and even. Janeway resigned herself to continued frustration and prepared to settle down while Lynne slept.

But she underestimated her partner. Lynne’s eyes opened and she suddenly rolled all the way onto Janeway, raising herself on her arms to look down in her lover’s startled face.

“That was truly amazing,” she said. “It’s been a long, long time since I had an orgasm like that. Centuries, in fact. However, I seem to recall that I was going along quite nicely before you so rudely interrupted me. It may take me awhile to remember where I was.” She flashed a sensual smile at Janeway, whose heart skipped a beat at the sight. And then it skipped a number of beats as Lynne demonstrated that she did, in fact, remember exactly where she’d left off. Returning immediately to Janeway’s breasts, she soon had her lover incoherent with arousal. After long minutes of the most delightful sensations, Lynne kissed her way down to Janeway’s waist and began a whole new torture, gently lifting the edge of her underpants and grazing her finger or tongue beneath it, then dropping the fabric and lifting it again somewhere else. In this manner she caressed the sensitive skin all around the underwear, which Janeway was now sure must be soaked. She thought she’d never been so turned on in her life, and was beyond relieved when she felt her underwear being gently tugged off. Lynne paused for a moment, then came back up to kiss Janeway’s jaw and whisper in her ear, “You are absolutely stunning.”

Janeway turned her head to meet Lynne’s eyes, and saw a depth of emotion there that awed her. She reached out to touch her lover’s cheek, and was gratified when Lynne turned her face into the caress for just a moment before taking her hand and gently kissing the wrist. Then her hand was released and Lynne was again moving down the bed.

Positioning herself between Janeway’s legs, Lynne at long last gave her what she’d been waiting for. When she felt the warm tongue slide between her folds, a groan of release and sheer joy escaped her. Soon her body was trembling as Lynne found her sweet spot and focused her attentions on it. Janeway’s orgasm built and swept over her so suddenly that she was startled and a little disappointed, but Lynne barely slowed down. Instead, she added something new to the mix:  two fingers pressed just past Janeway’s opening and no farther. Janeway was immediately back at the brink of orgasm, her entire being focused on those fingers and how much she wanted them all the way inside. She arched her hips, attempting to drive them in, but Lynne compensated and kept them at the same point. Janeway’s arousal was now off the scale. It was as if she had arrived at a level of sensation that was higher than her normal orgasm, and every second was almost like an orgasm in itself. She’d never felt anything like it. She had no idea how long she could stand it, and her need for release was overwhelming. An agonized groan escaped and she gasped, “Lynne—please!”

Immediately Lynne pushed all the way in, her long fingers creating an exquisite sensation of fullness. She began a gentle thrusting motion, her mouth and tongue never slowing, and Janeway’s arousal impossibly built even higher. Still there was no release, and it was almost too much. She wanted it to stop, she didn’t want it to ever stop, she didn’t know how much more she could take. All rational thought was long gone, and all that existed in her whole world were the sensations that were setting her body on fire.

Lynne shifted position slightly and paused just long enough to dip a finger of her other hand into the lubrication, using it to anoint Janeway’s lower opening. Slowly and carefully, she slid a single finger inside and began an alternating rhythm, pulling the lower finger out while the other two pushed in. Filled in every way and overwhelmed with the incredible sensations, Janeway lasted only a few seconds longer before her orgasm finally took her, shook her so hard that her entire upper body came up off the bed, and then mercifully released her at last. She fell back and thought she might never move again. Through a fog she felt gentle fingers extracting themselves from her body, soft kisses on her inner thighs, and then Lynne was beside her, kissing her throat, her jaw, and finally her lips. Janeway was so exhausted that she could barely return the kiss. She heard Lynne whisper, “I’ll be right back,” and a few moments later heard the sound of water running in the ensuite.

The bed shifted under Lynne’s weight as she returned, wrapping herself around Janeway and holding her tightly as her lover recovered from the shattering orgasm. It was a long time before Janeway came back to herself. She opened her eyes and for a few moments simply looked at this woman who had just changed her world. Finally she said, “You were incredible. I’ve never felt anything like that. I wasn’t sure I’d live through it.”

Lynne gently moved a damp strand of hair off Janeway’s forehead. “And you are one of the most amazing women I have ever known.” She seemed unaware that she’d used those exact words to describe Casey, but Janeway caught it and felt the warm confidence of someone who knows she is cherished. She glowed for a few moments, but then noticed that Lynne’s expression was troubled.

“What’s wrong?” asked Janeway.

Lynne hesitated, and Janeway brought her hand up to cup her partner’s cheek. “Surely, after what we’ve just experienced, you can tell me what you’re thinking.”

Green eyes stared into hers with an almost desperate expression. Finally Lynne spoke.

“Kathryn, I’m terrified to say this, but—I could never have done that without having very deep feelings for my partner.”

Janeway regarded her lover in some confusion. “I don’t understand why that should frighten you.”

Lynne sighed and ran her hand through her unruly hair. “It frightens me because I’ve had feelings for you for weeks now that I thought were misplaced and inappropriate, so I’ve spent a lot of time squelching them. Taking a risk when you have a safety net of friends and family is one thing, but taking a risk when you have absolutely everything to lose is something else. I didn’t dare say anything to you, and so I got very good at boxing up my emotions.” She pulled away and sat up, putting space between them that Janeway felt acutely. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she looked down and hugged herself in an unconscious gesture of self-protection. “But now you’ve changed the rules, and I can’t go on the way I was before. I can’t keep this inside. I don’t know exactly what you meant by the next level, but I’m already at the top one.” She looked up. “I'm falling in love with you.”

Janeway’s heart ached at the unsure expression on her lover’s face and the tension in her body. She understood the courage it had taken for Lynne to speak, and wanted nothing more than to wipe away her doubt and fear. Fortunately, she was pretty sure she could do that in a few short words.

“Then I’m a lucky woman,” she said, smiling. “Because I’m already in love with you.”

 

 

 

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