chapter 31

 

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Janeway woke to find herself alone. She sat up and listened, hearing no sound of movement in her quarters. Slipping out of bed, she went to her closet and pulled her robe on, noting that while her clothes were still lying where she’d left them, Lynne’s were gone.

Tendrils of panic curled around her spine as she stepped into the living quarters, but they faded when she saw her partner sitting on the couch, fully dressed and watching the streaks of stars. Lynne didn’t look up when Janeway joined her, and for long minutes neither one spoke.

At last Lynne broke the silence.

“The view is a lot better here than it was in the brig,” she said quietly.

Janeway could think of no appropriate response. She studied her partner’s profile, noticing the way the light from the stars brought out the silver in Lynne’s hair.

Lynne turned her head to look directly at Janeway. “We need to talk about this.”

“I know,” said Janeway. She uncrossed her legs and stood up. “But before we do, let me take care of something. Computer, lights one-eighth.” She had rarely felt less inclined to start a shift, and after all, she’d never taken her shore leave. Crossing the room to her workstation, she sent a message to Chakotay informing him that she was taking the next two days off. A second message to both the archeology lab and Tuvok made sure that Lynne would also be on leave for two days. She didn’t know whether Lynne would choose to spend that much time with her, but they both needed time to recover and Janeway was making certain they had it.

She returned to the couch to find that Lynne had made a few preparations of her own, and was leaning back against the arm of the couch with a steaming mug cradled between her hands. A second mug sat on the coffee table, filling the air with the scent of coffee. Janeway picked it up, directing a look of gratitude toward her partner, and closed her eyes as the first sip seared a path down her throat. She might survive this after all.

Indicating Lynne’s drink, she inquired, “Hot cocoa or tea?”

“Hot cocoa.”

“Is this going to be a two-cocoa night?”

Lynne’s expression was serious. “I don’t know, but I’m prepared for the possibility.”

Janeway regarded her partner as she took a larger gulp of her coffee. Lowering the mug, she said slowly, “Lynne, there’s so much to say that I really don’t know where to start.”

“I do,” said Lynne. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. Some of the things I said and did over the last few days were stupid and ill-considered and, in at least one case, downright hurtful. I know I put you in a bad position, and I’m sorry for that too. Can I assume from last night that you’ve forgiven me?”

Janeway shook her head. “I forgave you before last night. And I accept your apology only on the condition that you accept mine. I was pretty hard on you in sickbay, but if I’d been thinking instead of just reacting, I would have approached it a lot differently. I reacted to you far more emotionally than I should have, Lynne, and I really regret what I said that night. It’s just that…” She stopped, considering her words. “I was angry and hurt. Mostly hurt. And I’ve been wondering ever since—do you really feel that I’m acting like I control you?”

Lynne dropped her eyes and studied her mug of cocoa. When she finally looked up, her face wore a troubled expression. “You like to start out with the hard ones, don’t you?”

Janeway’s heart sank. “So that means yes.”

“No, it doesn’t. It means it’s not easy to explain.” Lynne paused, and Janeway could see that she was weighing her next words carefully. “Kathryn, I’m not Starfleet. I’ve never lived in this kind of environment. Until I came here, I managed to live my whole life in a condition as close to total freedom as anyone in my time could have. Hardly anybody could tell me what to do, and I liked it that way. I used to climb with a couple of ex-military friends and the stories they told me—well, I just couldn’t imagine being in a system like that. And now I am, to some extent. My movements are restricted, and the woman that I love is also the person who holds absolute authority over me. That’s been a little hard for me to deal with. I didn’t mean to bring that up in our argument; I was just so terrified about B’Elanna and so angry that you wouldn’t let me help, and I couldn’t accept the fact that you could actually prevent me from doing what I thought was right.”

“As it turns out, I couldn’t,” said Janeway wryly.

“No, you couldn’t,” agreed Lynne. “But I proved myself the wrong way, and I jeopardized everything that mattered to me. I’ve had a lot of time to think about the whole thing since then, and I’ve realized that you were right. The fact is, you do control this ship and everyone on it, and that includes me. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that you’ve never pulled rank on me except when you felt that what I wanted wasn’t in the best interests of the crew and the ship. So even though I still don’t like it all that much, I’m getting a little more accustomed to it.” She raised an eyebrow. “It’s who you are, Kathryn. It’s not as if I have a whole lot of choice about this.”

Janeway winced. “Are you saying that if you had the choice—if you weren’t stuck on Voyager—you wouldn’t be with me?” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Lynne. “This is a completely separate issue from my being with you.”

“Is it?” Now that the topic was out there, she felt compelled to find out the worst. “You just said that it’s who I am, and you’re right. How can the two issues be separate when you resent the captain side of me? You can’t be with just part of me, Lynne.”

“I know that.” Lynne set her mug down and rubbed her face with both hands. “Damn. It seems like whenever it really matters, I just don’t have the words to explain to you what I feel.” She dropped her hands and looked up. “I understand that you can’t always respond to me as my partner, and that sometimes you have to be my captain. It’s just taking me a little while to come to grips with everything that means. It was easy to fall in love with you as a person. It’s a little harder to deal with the captain’s role that comes with you, but I am dealing with it, Kathryn. When I said I have no choice, I didn’t mean that I’m stuck because I can’t get off this ship. I meant that I’m stuck because I can’t imagine not being with you.” She shook her head. “I never wanted to get into this with you. I should have handled this on my own, without dragging you into it. Being the captain is not something you can change—at least, not without huge repercussions—and I am so sorry that I threw that whole control thing in your face in sickbay.”

Janeway felt a great sense of relief, even though Lynne’s words didn’t quite put all of her fears to rest. Then she remembered her own words that evening and felt a little sick. “And I’m sorry that I responded the way I did. I must have justified all of your doubts about that part of our relationship.”

Lynne shrugged. “You told me the truth.”

“I know, but there were better ways of saying it. I felt like an ass afterward. I went looking for you the next morning to apologize.” She paused. “That’s when I found out you were gone.”

“I’ll bet you forgot about apologizing to me after that,” said Lynne, not quite meeting Janeway’s eyes.

Janeway didn’t want to think about that moment. “Let’s just say that if I could have gotten my hands on you right then, you’d have been in the brig a lot longer than seven days. And then when I tried to have you and Seven beamed back, the transporter room couldn’t find your life signs, and for a few horrible seconds I thought I’d lost you forever. Lynne, please don’t ever do anything like that to me again.”

Lynne did meet her eyes then, a pained expression on her face. “Believe me, Kathryn, I don’t have any intention of repeating this. The odds are against it anyway, don’t you think? And I didn’t want to do it then, but I felt I had no choice. It seemed to me that you’d suddenly turned into the captain, and had left me no other options. Of course, Seven has since informed me that I was quite incorrect in my way of thinking.”

“Wait a minute,” said Janeway. “Is this the same Seven who slipped you off the ship?”

Lynne looked sheepish. “This is the same Seven who just spent the last week giving me the education of my life. Let me tell you, that woman is merciless. You don’t want to spend seven days in a cell with her unless you enjoy having all of your human failings and poor logic pointed out and dissected. It’s a truly humbling experience. She told me that if she’d known the whole story, she wouldn’t have assisted me. She said that I misrepresented the situation to her, that I was completely illogical in my initial approach to you—which of course I was—and that if I had simply made my request in an appropriately logical manner, you would have seen the proper course of action and done it.”

Janeway wasn’t sure how she felt about Seven of Nine analyzing and predicting her decisions, but she had to hear this. “I see. And what did she feel was the appropriately logical manner?”

“She said that as soon as you told me your concern was not my skill at search and rescue, but my lack of training in combat, I should have addressed that concern by presenting options for you. For instance, keeping a transporter lock on me so that I could be beamed out at the first sign of trouble, or making sure I was flanked by a security escort assigned to protect me while I was distracted by the search effort. She felt that if I’d tried to work with you to find a solution to your concern, rather than getting emotional and insisting that you had to let me go, I’d have avoided the whole mess. Seven’s not big on emotion.”

Lynne’s deadpan understatement took Janeway by surprise, and she burst into laughter. “Oh, my,” she said, wiping her eyes, “that’s the truth. And even when Seven is emotional, she’s still logical.” She grew serious again, sipping her coffee and thinking. “If I hadn’t been so emotional myself, I might have thought of those options. But all I could see was that you had already barely escaped with your life as it was, and I couldn’t imagine putting you right back into danger when you didn’t have the training to deal with it. I was so focused on you that I didn’t have the distance I needed to see the big picture.”

“That’s something else Seven said about you,” Lynne said.

“What, that I don’t see the big picture?” Janeway was indignant.

“No, just the opposite. That you have to look at the big picture, and sometimes that results in different decisions than someone looking at only a piece of it. I’m the one who doesn’t look at the big picture, according to her. She said I have to remember that you’re the head of our collective, and it’s your job to use your available resources properly and efficiently. It was my job to help you see that I was a resource you could use. And I failed at it.”

“So that’s how Seven sees the chain of command,” mused Janeway. “Well, that explains a great deal.”

“Seven sees a lot of things,” said Lynne. “In her own way, she’s one of the most clear-sighted people I have ever known. I mean, it’s true that she’s behind the ball on some things that the rest of us know without even being aware that we know it, but that’s just because she was brought up in a completely different culture. In many other ways she’s so far out in front that the rest of us look like we’re not even running the same race.”

Janeway had stalled on the first part of this statement. “Behind the ball?”

Lynne looked down with a smile. “You know, that’s one thing I am not going to miss about being with Seven twenty-four hours a day. Do you know how many idioms I had to explain to her? Usually I’d get about halfway through an explanation and she’d be looking at me with this expression that made me realize how totally inane my slang terms really are. I think she called half my vocabulary into question.”

“And I can certainly see why. You still haven’t explained ‘behind the ball.’”

“How about ‘not up to speed’?”

“Ah,” said Janeway. “Got it.” She looked at her partner, curled up with her ubiquitous mug of cocoa, and felt a rush of love and contentment that surprised her with its strength. Since Voyager’s stranding, moments of pure happiness were few and far between for her, a fact she’d accepted years ago. That just made those occasional perfect moments all the more precious, and she was basking in one right now. Having Lynne explain yet another of her unfathomable idioms, the comfort of her physical presence so close by, the familiarity of their positions on the couch—after their recent argument and separation, these simple things filled Janeway with joy. She thought that if the ship hit a cosmic string and winked out of existence right now, she’d go out happy.

“God, I’ve missed you,” she said. “You have no idea what it means to me to have you sitting here now. When we walked back here last night, I didn’t know if we’d ever get to this point again.”

“I didn’t either,” said Lynne. “It was so strange to be walking right beside you and be afraid.”

This was unexpected. “Afraid?” asked Janeway.

“Oh, yes. I was afraid of touching you, afraid of saying anything for fear it would be the wrong thing, and desperately afraid that when you got me to your quarters you were going to tell me it was all over. I couldn’t believe it when you hugged me instead. It was like getting a reprieve from a life sentence.”

“You’ve definitely got a command mask, then,” said Janeway. “You didn’t look afraid; you looked intimidating. I was really worried. And the last time I’d seen you, the look you gave me was—well, it wasn’t very loving.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said Lynne. “I was furious with you for giving Seven a harsher sentence than me, and really, I thought you and I were finished at that point. You were so cold and professional—I couldn’t see any sign of the Kathryn I knew in your face. I guess I’ve just never before seen Kathryn the captain, at least not like that. My relationship with you has always been more personal, and I’ve never really had to deal with you on a purely professional level. Obviously my first attempt at it was not a resounding success.” She offered a wry half-smile, but Janeway could see something else behind it.

“Hey,” she said softly, “we both made mistakes. Don’t take all the blame on yourself.”

Lynne’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Oh, Kathryn, how can I not? I was so blind about your responsibilities and so sure of my own actions, and I made a huge mistake. When Seven told me I’d failed at my responsibility to help you see me as a resource, it really knocked me down to size. I just hadn’t considered it from that angle until then, and when I did consider it—well, it scares me to think of what I could have lost.”

“It scares me to think of what I could have lost if you hadn’t done what you did,” said Janeway. “The Doctor said B’Elanna would certainly have died in another four to six hours. She only lasted as long as she did because she’s half-Klingon and has redundant organs that kept her vital systems going. But those organs couldn’t do everything, and she was on limited time. If you hadn’t found her when you did, she wouldn’t be here now. Lynne, you know the search team had already been over that area and missed what you saw. They wouldn’t have found her. You did what you told me you could do, and I didn’t take you as seriously as I should have. Seven was right about one thing—you were a resource that I should have used. But I’m the one who didn’t see it, and it was a bad decision on my part not to send you down.”

Janeway was realizing the truth of this even as she spoke. Lynne had called herself blind, but she wasn’t the only one. I was too close to her, she thought. I didn’t see what should have been done. I let my personal feelings get in the way. She was shocked and horrified at the realization. All these months she’d been congratulating herself that Lynne wasn’t a member of the crew, because it meant she’d never have to worry about a conflict between her personal feelings and her responsibilities as a captain. But the conflict had happened anyway, without her even recognizing it—and she’d blown it. She’d made the wrong decision.

Her earlier feeling of contentment evaporated as a crushing guilt descended. She put her coffee mug on the table and turned toward the viewport, needing some distance. Lynne was the one apologizing, thinking she’d failed, but it hadn’t been her job to convince Janeway. It was the captain’s job to see the situation clearly and make the best decision. And she hadn’t. How was she going to deal with this? Could she afford to continue this relationship? It had already affected her ability to make command decisions badly enough that she’d almost lost a crewmember. What if the next time her mistake was bigger?

She heard a click as Lynne put her mug down, then felt the couch shift. A moment later Lynne’s hands were clasping her own. “What just happened here?” said Lynne. “You went away.”

It took an act of will for Janeway to drag her eyes back to Lynne’s face, and the concern she saw there pierced right through to her heart. She felt completely undeserving.

“Lynne,” she said carefully, her voice threatening to betray her, “I am so sorry. This whole thing is my fault. And the worst part of it is, I didn’t even see it until now. I was so angry at you for defying my orders, and then for challenging me in the ready room, that I never really examined my own part in this.” She laughed, but there was no humor at all in the sound.

“I can’t believe it took me this long to see it, but I just now realized how much responsibility I bear for this whole situation—and that’s just about all of it. I made a mistake, and then I made you pay the price. And if you hadn’t had the guts to call me on it and do what you did, B’Elanna would have paid the price. God, I can’t believe I was so dense, and so completely wrong.” Her guilt was threatening to drown her, and it was a familiar feeling. This was how she’d felt in the Void, when the lack of anything to do had forced her to actually sit and examine her decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array and strand Voyager. She’d finally understood then that her arrogance, her blind belief in Starfleet ideals, had condemned not just herself but her entire crew to a possible lifetime away from home. The guilt had been a deep, crushing blackness, and she could feel it again now, pressing in on her.

“Whoa, hold on,” said Lynne, squeezing Janeway’s hands. “You just got finished telling me that we both made mistakes, and now you’re trying to take all the blame? I don’t think so. This is as much my fault as it is yours. More so, I think.”

Janeway shook her head unhappily. “No, you don’t understand. It wasn’t your responsibility to convince me to send you on the search and rescue mission. It was my responsibility to recognize that you were the best qualified person to do it, regardless of my own feelings for you or my fear that you could be injured or killed in a combat situation. I was blinded by my relationship with you, Lynne, and it affected my ability to make a command decision. I can’t ever let that happen again. I’m not sure if I can do this.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lynne, a touch of fear in her voice.

Janeway steeled herself. “I mean, I’m not sure if I can stay in this relationship. Not if it means compromising my command.”

Lynne dropped Janeway’s hands and sat back on her heels, a stunned look on her face. “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

Janeway’s hands felt suddenly cold, and she tucked them under her arms. “I can’t either,” she said, her voice flat. “Believe me, it’s not what I want. But it’s something I have to consider. This is it, Lynne—this is the big picture you were talking about. The safety of this ship and crew come first, and I have to do whatever it takes to ensure that safety. My command has to come before my personal happiness.”

“And what about my happiness? Goddammit, Kathryn—” Lynne began hotly, then stopped herself with a visible effort. Shaking her head, she got up from the couch and paced to the dining table and back while Janeway watched in mute misery. When Lynne looked up, Janeway could see a familiar expression in her eyes. She prepared herself for the onslaught as Lynne came back to the couch. But what came next wasn’t at all what she expected.

“No way,” said Lynne as she sat in front of Janeway again. “There is no way I’m letting you quit that easily. You’re not running away the first time we hit a wall. I love you too much to let you go like that. I need you too much.”

Her words pierced Janeway’s guilt like a ray of sunlight slicing into the darkness of a prison cell. “You need me?” she asked, not quite believing it.

Lynne was incredulous. “Of course I need you. How could you think otherwise? Kathryn, you’re my lifeline. I can’t imagine an existence without you. I’ve already had to learn to give you up to this ship in every other way, working late practically every night and not having nearly as much time for me as I’d like. I’ve accepted that, though it hasn’t been easy. But I can’t see giving you up altogether. You can’t ask me to do that.”

Janeway was shaking her head, trying to come to terms with what she was hearing. “I don’t have enough time for you? You’re the one who’s been busy practically every night. You’re the one who chose to climb a mountain rather than spend time with me. I’ve been available, Lynne, how can you say I didn’t have time for you?”

“Because every time I checked to see where you were after your shift, you were still in your ready room. And I knew I couldn’t disturb you there. So I started spending more time with B’Elanna and Seven and the gang because it was a hell of a lot better than staying in my quarters, wishing you were with me.”

Janeway realized that her mouth was open. “I can’t believe this. I started working late because you were always busy training or socializing, and working was better than sitting home alone.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” said Lynne.

“No, I’m not. I wanted to spend more time with you, Lynne. You weren’t there.”

“Then why didn’t you ask me to be there?”

“Because,” said Janeway, “you seemed perfectly happy with the way things were, and you never offered to spend more time with me. I thought I wanted more than you were ready to give, and I didn’t want to risk what we already had by asking for more.” She paused. “Why didn’t you ask me to be there?”

“Because you’re the captain,” said Lynne. “I didn’t think I had the right to ask for more from you.”

They stared at each other in silence.

“Well,” said Lynne at last, “this is a clusterfuck of biblical proportions.”

“A what?” Janeway began to laugh. Really, this whole situation was just too awful.

“A clusterfuck. A really, really big fuck-up, usually comprised of lots of little fuck-ups that all add up.” Lynne was laughing too. “I can’t believe that one didn’t make into this century. Clusterfucks are timeless.”

“They certainly are,” said Janeway, “as we’ve just proven.” Her laughter slowed, and then the full import of Lynne’s revelation hit her. She looked at her partner with wide eyes. “Oh, Lynne. It would have made such a difference to me if I’d known. And now…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Lynne knew, her face instantly sober. “Are you about to say that now it’s too late?”

Janeway nodded disconsolately. “I’m sorry. I love you, Lynne, but it just terrifies me that I lost my focus so badly when it came to you. I made a mistake that almost cost B’Elanna’s life. What if the next time the stakes are higher? I can’t risk it. What I want, and even what you want, simply isn’t as important as the safety of this ship and crew. And I don’t know if I can keep one without risking the other.”

She waited for the inevitable argument, but Lynne didn’t respond right away. She had her head tilted to one side, thinking hard, and when she focused on Janeway again her expression was one of wonderment.

“I just realized something,” she said slowly.

“What?”

“That we’re both being idiots. Do you recall what Seven said when we left the brig?”

“Yes,” said Janeway, wondering where this was going and not sure she wanted to find out. “She told you to remember something.”

“Right. She’d been pounding several different concepts into my head, most of them to do with the necessity of not letting my emotions rule me as I have in the past. You may have noticed that I tend to react to things emotionally before I think them through.”

Janeway nodded. Another time she would have laughed at that statement, but Lynne was deadly serious.

“Well, I’ve been getting some lessons in Borg logic, and I think now is an excellent time to apply them. Because right now, I’m reacting emotionally—and so are you.”

Janeway opened her mouth to answer, realized how stupid her response would sound, and shut it again.

“Kathryn,” said Lynne earnestly, “we’re both trying to take the blame for this when the truth is that neither one of us needs to. I’m kicking myself for not approaching you more logically and convincing you to let me go, and you’re kicking yourself for not seeing that you should have let me go—but you couldn’t have sent me. Period. And you told me why that night.”

“You mean when I said I couldn’t justify the risk? True, but if I’d been thinking more clearly I’d have realized that the risk could have been minimized, and you were the best person for the job.”

Lynne shook her head. “You were thinking clearly then. You’re not now. Tell me, Kathryn, with the exception of Seven—who probably has more combat experience than everyone else on this ship put together—how many times have you sent a civilian into combat?”

“Never.” Comprehension was dawning.

“And why haven’t you?”

Janeway looked at her partner with new respect. “Because it’s against Starfleet regulations, for one thing, and ethically wrong for another.”

“Then how can you call your decision a mistake when, in fact, it was not only in compliance with Starfleet regulations, but ethically correct as well? You told me that night that you couldn’t send me because the risk was too great for a civilian. I think you’ve just forgotten that part because you’re trying so hard to take responsibility for everything. But you don’t have to—you made the right decision.”

Janeway was speechless for a moment. Her mind furiously processed Lynne’s statement, trying to find a hole in it. But there wasn’t one. Lynne was right—she could regret that decision all she wanted to, but the fact remained that it was the only one she could have made under the circumstances. The crushing blackness ebbed away, and she looked at Lynne in wonderment. When she finally found her voice, she said, “I may have to throw myself in the brig with Seven for a few days. It’s obviously done wonders for you, and I think I could use some of those same lessons.”

A slow smile spread over Lynne’s face. “Do I take that to mean I’ve made my point?”

“Oh, you’ve made it and then some,” said Janeway. “Now I just feel like a fool. I’ve just scared the hell out of both of us for nothing.”

Lynne leaned forward to capture Janeway’s hands and squeezed them gently. “You’re not a fool. You’re the most brilliant, ethical, and caring person I have ever known. You torture yourself trying to do the right thing, and I love you for that, even though it means I get tortured right along with you. I just want you to understand that you didn’t lose your focus with me. In fact, you kept it in the face of some pretty strong pressure on my part. I pulled out all the stops, right down to fighting dirty, and you still did what you felt was right. And you were right—I wasn’t prepared for a combat situation. Let me tell you, when Seven and I had four Santori guards pointing weapons at us, that little fact became blindingly obvious. This was a no-win situation, Kathryn. I may be a resource for you, but the way we’ve got things set up right now, you couldn’t use that resource without compromising your ethics and your beliefs. I didn’t like it, and we may have to think about changing our arrangement—but I have to respect the choice you made given the options at the time. And I respect you, more than I have any other person in my life. I’m proud to call you my partner.” She tugged on Janeway’s hands, closing the distance between them.

Gratefully, Janeway let herself relax into the kiss. When she pulled back several luxurious minutes later, she whispered, “Thank you.”

Lynne raised an eyebrow. “For kissing you?”

Janeway knew she was being deliberately obtuse. “For saying all the right things. For loving me. For being stubborn enough to defy my orders and save an impossible situation. For being courageous enough to risk our relationship to do the right thing. I’m not the only one in this room with ethics, and I respect yours tremendously.”

“Wow,” said Lynne. “That’s quite a list. I think I may get a big head. You may have to widen the entrance to your quarters.”

Janeway laughed. “No, I think I’ll keep it just the width it is, because then you’ll never be able to leave.”

“Who said I wanted to?” Lynne reached for her again, and Janeway was very glad she’d had the foresight to log them both off duty. It looked like they weren’t going anywhere for awhile.

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 32

 

 

If B’Elanna’s theory was right, then Voyager’s engine efficiency took a noticeable jump upward over the next several weeks, because her captain was happier than she’d ever been. She and Lynne had found a new level to their relationship that surpassed the old. Days of discussing and dissecting recent events and their emotions, motives and reasoning had brought them both to a much greater understanding of each other, as well as a comforting knowledge that, despite their differences, they shared the same core beliefs and ethics. As Lynne said, everything else was just window dressing. Janeway of course had no idea what this meant, and threatened to start recording all of Lynne’s idioms just so she could see how truly incomprehensible she really was to most civilized people.

Voyager made good time for two months, stopping only twice to acquire supplies, once to examine a nebula with unusual radiation readings, and once to take part in a mediation between two races who were negotiating an agreement over resources on their moon. Lynne accompanied the away team on both supply-gathering missions, and Janeway managed not to worry too much about her—at least, not so much that she drove the bridge crew off the deck. Remembering their earlier agreement, Lynne sent a message to the ready room terminal immediately upon returning from each mission. Then she complained that Janeway hadn’t had the consideration to do the same when she returned from the mediation sessions. Janeway laughed at her and asked where in Starfleet regulations did it require the captain to notify a civilian passenger of her safe return? After several minutes of Lynne’s demonstration that she was not a typical civilian passenger, Janeway breathlessly agreed that, after all, it was only fair for her to send a message to Lynne whenever she got back from an away mission.

They had one difficult evening when Lynne asked permission to begin combat and general security training with Tuvok. Janeway resisted at first, hating the very thought of it, but Lynne reasonably pointed out that whether or not she was a civilian, she was still under contract as a member of the security department and it was logical for her to have some training. After all, even the most innocuous of away missions could get into trouble. And if that were to happen, wouldn’t she prefer that Lynne be able to assist, or at least protect herself, rather than ducking down and hoping for the best? In addition, she said, having her be trained in combat could help avoid the sort of no-win situation that Janeway had found herself in during the search for B’Elanna on the Tsian planet. Put that way, Janeway was forced to agree to the sense of it, grumbling all the while that her life had gotten a whole lot harder ever since Seven had given Lynne a lesson in Borg logic. Lynne responded that Janeway had only herself to blame for that.

Lynne had taken to the training like a duck to water, and before Janeway quite knew what was happening her partner was working in the security department full time, having said that she’d done all she could with the archeology lab. Johnson and Slater had agreed, releasing her from her duties with them, and Tuvok had immediately requested permission to devote time to training Lynne as a student in the more formal Vulcan martial arts as well as several specialized areas of security. Feeling somewhat as if the ground were sliding under her feet, Janeway agreed. She couldn’t see any reason to deny the request, but she wasn’t comfortable with it. She really didn’t want to know the details of what Lynne was learning, and Lynne seemed to understand. When they talked about their days together, she gave Janeway the highlights of her training but didn’t go into much depth.

B’Elanna and Seven found themselves regularly invited to dinner in the captain’s quarters, hosted by Janeway and Lynne. Janeway was delighted to see the change in the relationship between her two officers. Somehow, they’d found a mutual respect for each other’s strengths, and their previous antagonism had turned into a prickly sort of friendship. Many of the crew found the new friendship indistinguishable from their earlier dislike, but those close to them knew better.

B’Elanna said at their first dinner that she’d decided to give Seven a chance after watching her dissect Lynne in the brig. “Anybody who could get through that woman’s thick head,” she said, pointing at Lynne, “was somebody I wanted on my side in a fight.”

“Well, of all the people on this ship, you’re the best qualified to judge the thickness of a skull,” said Lynne.

“Was that some sort of Klingon insult?” demanded B’Elanna.

“No, it was a personal insult. And now that Tuvok has taught me to kick serious butt, you’re welcome to take me outside to discuss it if you’d like,” said Lynne. “We never did finish that discussion about whose ego was bigger, so we might as well lump it in with a chat about whose head is thicker.”

“Any holodeck, any time,” said B’Elanna.

“Ladies,” said Janeway mildly, “please remember that I will be forced to respond to any fisticuffs with the appropriate discipline. Except that this time I think I’ll use Neelix’s cooking rather than time in the brig. How does a week of Turnover Delight sound?”

“We’ll be good,” B’Elanna promised, with a sidelong glance at Lynne.

“Kathryn, I believe it would be more efficient simply to let them fight,” said Seven. “Your only alternative is a constant use of threats to control their behavior, and that is an inefficient use of your time. Besides, I would be most interested to view the outcome.”

“Why, Seven, I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty,” said B’Elanna.

“Normally I am not,” said Seven, raising an eyebrow. Janeway and B’Elanna smiled, but Lynne laughed and raised her glass to Seven.

“Well done, Seven. A nicely dangled implication.”

Seven raised her own glass of sparkling cider and tapped it to Lynne’s. “Thank you. You were not the only one who acquired new social techniques in the brig.”

“If only I’d known that the brig was the social hot spot of the ship,” said Janeway. “Somebody should tell Neelix.”

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 33

 

 

Janeway sat in her bridge chair, idly contemplating the viewscreen. She was taking a mental break from the mission log she’d been reviewing, and found the constant passage of star streaks to be a soothing distraction. Her mind wandered to the previous night in Lynne’s quarters. They’d spent the whole evening just relaxing, sipping wine and talking about their day. Lynne had put on a musical selection from her time that she’d just located in the database—it was filed under an incorrect name, she’d said—and Janeway had loved it. Lynne’s excitement over finding the album was transparent and contagious. She’d told Janeway that Bel Canto had been her favorite band, and of all the albums she’d known in her time, this was the one she would have chosen to take if she were stranded on a desert island.

“I hope you don’t think of Voyager as a desert island,” Janeway had said jokingly.

“No,” Lynne had answered. “But I am stranded. Though I couldn’t ask for better company.”

It was small moments such as this that continued to worry Janeway about her relationship with Lynne. On the one hand, she’d never felt so comfortable with another person before, and their partnership seemed to be getting stronger and more rewarding every day. They’d been seeing each other far more often since clearing up their misunderstanding. Now that most of Lynne’s training was taking place during the duty shift, she was spending fewer evenings a week with Tuvok, and Janeway had taken full advantage of that. Everything seemed to be perfect…but then there were the occasional little reminders that Lynne was not quite as happy as Janeway wished she could be. She supposed she should expect it; after all, from Lynne’s perspective it had been only eight months since she had been torn away from everything she’d ever known. She’d made an amazing adjustment in that time, and Janeway was proud of her for fitting in so well. But she was obviously still adapting.

It was partly for this reason that Janeway continued to put off taking the next step in their relationship. She’d been thinking more and more about asking Lynne to move in with her, but didn’t know if it was wise. Should she ask such a thing when Lynne was still adjusting to her new environment? What if she wasn’t ready? What if she said yes, but they couldn’t make it work? She knew from hard experience that the worst thing in the world was living on a small ship with an estranged lover. The emotional strain she’d experienced during her disagreement with Lynne over B’Elanna’s rescue, and her partner’s subsequent confinement, was something she never wanted to repeat.

She had one other concern—whether or not Lynne could fully accept Janeway’s captaincy. The topic hadn’t come up again since their pivotal discussion about authority and control, but Janeway still had doubts and wasn’t quite sure how she could put them to rest.

Despite these worries, their relationship was still the best thing that had ever happened to her. She wasn’t going to get unduly stressed over it—they had time to work things out at a pace that Lynne was comfortable with. It never occurred to Janeway to wonder whether she was the one who needed to get comfortable.

She shook herself out of her reverie and picked up her PADD. A moment later the log was forgotten when she felt a subtle vibration through the deck plating. Looking up sharply, she saw that the scene on the viewscreen had changed. Where before there had been nothing but stars, now there was a small blue rift in space, dead ahead of them. Even as she watched, the rift grew in size.

“Full stop,” she called out. “Mr. Kim, what is that?”

Harry’s console beeped, indicating that he’d already been scanning the anomaly and had just gotten a result back. “It’s a tear in the fabric of space, Captain. It wasn’t there a second ago, and it doesn’t conform to any recognized type of wormhole.”

Janeway felt a surge of adrenaline go through her. Anomalies such as this were usually far more trouble than she ever wanted to get into, but they also held the tantalizing possibility of a fast ticket home. Keeping her excitement out of her voice, she asked, “Can you determine where it leads?”

“No, Captain. Scans can’t penetrate it. We could try a probe.”

Tuvok had also been conducting scans. “Captain, the anomaly is increasing in size at a logarithmic rate. I believe it would be prudent for us to withdraw to a safe distance.”

Janeway could see that for herself; the image on the screen was indeed growing quickly. “Mr. Paris, move us back 50,000 kilometers, one-quarter impulse.”

“Aye, Captain,” said Tom as he input the command to the helm. Janeway watched the anomaly shrink as they retreated, but then the ship shuddered slightly, and the anomaly began to grow again.

“Report,” she demanded of anyone who could answer.

“Captain, the helm shows that engines are at one-quarter impulse. We’re just not moving,” said Tom.

Harry’s fingers flew over his board, and he looked at Janeway with concern. “Confirmed. The engines are operating within normal parameters.”

“Increase speed to full impulse,” said Janeway.

“Increasing speed,” said Tom. “No response.”

“Warp one,” said Janeway.

“Warp one,” repeated Tom. They could all hear the familiar hum of the warp engines coming on line, but Janeway didn’t need a report to see that they were still going nowhere, and the anomaly was getting alarmingly close. A second later B’Elanna’s voice came over the comm system.

“Engineering to bridge. What are you doing up there? The warp engines are getting hot.”

“Stand by, B’Elanna,” said Janeway. “Helm, increase to warp two.”

The air on the bridge grew thick with tension as they all waited. Nothing happened.

“Captain, the engines are at maximum heat tolerance. Whatever you’re doing, you’ve got about thirty more seconds before they overheat and shut down.”

“Tom,” said Janeway, “reverse course, increase speed to warp eight and use that thing’s gravitational attraction to give us escape velocity.” It was a desperate gambit, but they’d run out of conventional options.

“Aye, Captain.” The anomaly nearly filled the screen as they flew toward it, then began sliding to the left as Tom used their speed to shear away. Janeway was just thinking they’d made it when the anomaly suddenly and inexplicably moved back to center screen, and a second later Voyager crossed the threshold. A blinding blue light filled the bridge. Janeway closed her eyes against it, able to see the brilliant light even through her eyelids. When it faded, she carefully opened her eyes and felt her jaw drop.

“Mr. Kim,” she said when she could find her voice, “please tell me that we’re not where—and when—I think we are.”

Everyone on the bridge was staring with equal amazement. Harry tore his eyes away from the screen and checked his board, then looked at Janeway with the confirmation written all over his face.

“We’re back at Earth,” he said. “That’s Voyager in orbit, and the year is 1996. We’ve been thrown back somehow to our encounter with Captain Braxton and Henry Starling.”

“Great,” muttered Janeway. Three years ago, Voyager had been attacked by a Starfleet captain piloting a timeship from the twenty-ninth century, who informed them that their ship would be responsible for the destruction of the Terran solar system. During the attack, both Voyager and the timeship had been sucked back to Earth, the timeship landing in 1967 and Voyager arriving in 1996. In their search for Captain Braxton, Janeway and her crew had found that an entrepreneur named Starling was in possession of the timeship and was using its technology to fuel the microcomputer revolution and, incidentally, his own personal fortune. It had taken them two days to straighten everything out, but they’d eventually been sent back to their own time by Braxton. Unfortunately, they’d been sent back to their own place, as well, having gained nothing from their trip through time and space except for the Doctor’s mobile emitter.

And here they were again, except that they were also here—the other Voyager they could all see orbiting the planet. How could they both be here at the same time? And why wasn’t the other ship hailing them? Surely they’d seen them as soon as they’d arrived. Janeway felt a familiar headache settle in—she hated temporal mechanics with a passion.

She stood up. “All right, everybody in the conference room. Helm, set an orbit that avoids the surveillance satellites.” As the senior staff filed in, she contacted Seven and B’Elanna. This was going to be an interesting meeting.

 

 

-----

 

 

Two hours later, Janeway pulled an extra-large mug of coffee from her ready room replicator, hoping like hell that it would do something to ease her headache. They’d run every scan they could think of, gone over every possible theory and explanation, and had ended no further ahead than they’d begun—except that her headache had intensified. Even Seven couldn’t come up with an explanation for the anomaly’s bizarre behavior, when it had actually seemed to jump in front of them. She did, however, offer a theory as to why the other Voyager didn’t seem to be detecting them:  that they were slightly out of phase from the other ship, and were therefore not registering visually or on any sensors. Since nobody else could come up with anything better, that was their working theory for now.

The meeting had left Janeway with only one option:  to wait for the historical events to unfold, and be prepared to follow the other Voyager out when they set off for their fateful rendezvous with Captain Braxton. Assuming that Braxton would be able to detect them along with the other Voyager, he’d send them back to their own time. And if Braxton couldn’t detect them—well, then they’d just dive into the time rift along with the other Voyager and follow it back. This option was one that Janeway could hardly bear to consider, since it meant having to relive the last two years over again. Not only that, but the implications of having two Voyagers and two complete crews traveling side by side was something she really didn’t want to think about.

The sound of her door chime brought her up straight. There was another, very large implication to their current situation, and the person it concerned had just arrived at Janeway’s request.

“Come,” she called. The door swished open and Lynne strode in. As soon as she saw Janeway she leaped the stairs to the upper level, coming to a stop with an electric air about her.

“Is it true?” she demanded. “It’s 1996?”

“Yes, it’s true,” said Janeway. She indicated the replicator. “Would you like some tea or hot cocoa?”

“I think I’d like something a whole lot stronger,” said Lynne.

“Well, we’re on duty so that’s out of the question,” said Janeway. She looked Lynne in the eye. “Unless you’re here to resign your contract, in which case we’re both going to have a stiff drink.”

Lynne stared at her, then collapsed onto the sofa as if her legs had been cut out from under her.

“You’re telling me I can go home, aren’t you?”

Janeway took a seat next to Lynne with only slightly more grace. She was feeling a bit wobbly herself, though she tried very hard not to show it. It seemed to her that the rest of her life depended on the next few minutes.

“I’m telling you that you have a choice,” she said. “And exactly thirty-two hours in which to make it. After that, we’re leaving with or without you.”

Lynne let the air out of her lungs. “A hell of a choice, I’d say. Give up everything here to go home, or give up everything at home to stay here. Damn—if this had happened a few months ago, there would have been no question. But now…” She buried her face in her hands. “Jesus, Kathryn. I have to decide in thirty-two hours?”

“I’m afraid so.” Janeway put a comforting hand on Lynne’s shoulder, wishing she could find some way to comfort herself as well. She knew in her heart that her partner was leaving. After all, Earth had been her home for over four decades, while she’d been on Voyager for less than a year. Certainly her old life must be exerting an irresistible pull, and Lynne had never been truly happy here.

“We’ve been here before,” she said. “This is an event that Voyager experienced three years ago. I know exactly what’s going to happen over the next thirty-two hours, and I know that our only chance of getting back to our time will be at the end of that time span. And this is your only chance, Lynne. You’re not stranded anymore. You can go home if you want to, even though it’s not quite the home that you knew.”

Lynne raised her head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s 1996,” said Janeway gently. “If you go back, you’ll have to keep a low profile and make sure that you do nothing to contaminate the timeline for the next five years. And I mean nothing—the Temporal Prime Directive is very clear. If you do anything to alter the timeline, no matter how minor, the repercussions could be severe. You won’t be able to see any of your friends or family during that time. Only after the Lynne who is down there right now vanishes in 2001 will you be able to contact anyone you know and love.”

There was a long pause while Lynne studied the view. When she looked back at Janeway, her eyes held a haunted expression.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Janeway hadn’t expected that one. How could she possibly answer it? She couldn’t admit to Lynne that her heart was breaking even now, because she couldn’t influence her partner’s decision. It wasn’t her right to ask Lynne to stay. With as much resolve as she could muster, she said, “What I want doesn’t matter. This is your decision, Lynne. Only you can make it. You have to leave me out of it.”

“What you want matters to me,” said Lynne. “And I can’t leave you out of it—you’re the most important person in my life, now or ever. But we’ve never talked commitment before, at least not like this. It’s been too soon…and tomorrow it will be too late. Kathryn—” She stopped, shook her head, and went on in a softer voice. “If I don’t mean as much to you, then I need to know right now.”

“How can you say that?” Janeway was shocked. “Don’t you know how much you mean to me? Haven’t I told you, shown you in every way that I can?”

She leaned forward and took Lynne’s hands in her own. “Lynne, I love you. But I can’t stand in the way of your one chance to go back home—what kind of love would that be? Wasn’t it you who gave me the quote about loving something and setting it free?”

Lynne nodded slowly, a mounting tension showing in her face. She squeezed Janeway’s hands and then let them go. “Yes, it was. How ironic—I told you that when I was trying like hell to get off this ship. And now it comes back around when I have to decide whether to stay on it.”

Janeway picked up her coffee mug and cupped her hands around it, its warmth a contrast to the cold dread that was seeping into her heart. She desperately wanted to ask Lynne to stay, to tell her that she couldn’t imagine going on without her—but she had to set aside her own needs. This wasn’t like asking Lynne to move in with her. It was asking her to give up everything she thought she’d lost, and Janeway couldn’t be that selfish.

“Lynne,” she said at last, “I can’t help you with this one. This is your choice, and you must understand that I have to stay out of it.” If her tone was a little cooler than usual, it was only because she was having to control the tremor threatening to work its way out of her throat.

Lynne looked out the viewport, and Janeway watched as conflicting emotions chased each other across her face. She saw her features settle into resolve, and knew what Lynne was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

“I have to go.”

“I know,” said Janeway, feeling the bottom drop out of her stomach. She took a deep breath. “When will you leave?”

Lynne turned her head to meet Janeway’s eyes. “As soon as I can get some things together from my quarters. Kathryn, this isn’t my final decision. It’s just that I can’t make my choice from here. I’ve got to go down there and see it again before I decide. And if I’ve only got thirty-two hours, then I want to leave as soon as possible.” She squeezed Janeway’s knee, her eyes shining suspiciously. “If I decide to go home, Kathryn, I’ll still come back to say goodbye. I won’t leave it like this.”

Janeway thought she knew what the gladiators must have felt like when they stood in the Roman coliseum, waiting for the emperor to decide their fate. Except that they only had to wait a few seconds, while she had a day and a half to hang by a thread. This was going to be absolute hell.

“All right,” she said. “Just tell the transporter operator where you want to go. I’ll send over my authorization.” She glanced out the viewport at the familiar blue and green planet revolving slowly beneath them. “So where are you going?”

Lynne’s face took on a glow. “Boulder, Colorado. If I can’t actually go home, that’s close enough.”

 

 

 

 

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Chapter 34

 

 

The next thirty hours seemed like thirty years to Janeway. When she’d sent her authorization to the transporter room, she’d also included orders to be notified of Lynne’s departure and return. Less than one hour after Lynne had left her ready room, she’d gotten the word from the transporter operator that the transport was complete. Suddenly Voyager seemed like a different ship to her—a place where she existed and worked, but not a place where she had any kind of life. The remainder of her shift dragged on forever, and when it was finally over she found that she had no desire to go back to her quarters. Instead, she continued to work until she was nearly dropping from exhaustion. When she got to the point where she’d read the same paragraph three times without comprehending it, she retired to her ready room couch for a few hours’ sleep, then resumed working as soon as she woke up. As long as she could keep busy, she didn’t have to think. And right now, thinking was a bad idea.

She was already in her bridge chair before Tuvok arrived at the beginning of alpha shift. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at seeing her there—he was normally the first one on the bridge—but otherwise gave no sign that he had noticed anything unusual. She’d traded her wrinkled uniform in for a newly replicated one, and was reasonably sure that no one could see through her command mask to the ever-increasing fear beneath it. The more time that went by without word from Lynne, the more certain she was that Voyager would be leaving without her. The knowledge weighed her down, and she felt as if her mind was wrapped in gauze. It seemed to take her longer to make decisions, to comprehend what she was reading, even to process simple questions. She appreciated the irony of the situation—for so long she’d worried that a personal relationship might interfere with her command, but that hadn’t been the case. It was the end of the relationship that was playing havoc with her command abilities.

The shift crawled by, and she found herself wishing that something would happen just to take her mind off her situation. The fact that they were forced to sit and wait until their moment of departure made things worse. There were only so many mission logs and GDRs she could read before going space happy, and she felt dangerously close to that point by midafternoon, when she took a break from the reports to gaze at the viewscreen. Even though it wasn’t her Earth, it was still mesmerizing. At the moment, North America was sliding by, and she could see the spine of the Rocky Mountains marching down the continent. She stared at the range of peaks, wondering where Lynne was now and what she was doing. But that thought hurt, so she shifted her gaze to the midwestern plains, locating the general area where she’d grown up in the agricultural park of Indiana. How she longed to be there once more, walking through the cornfields on a hot summer day and feeling her ears vibrate with the incessant hum of insects. For a moment she lost herself in pleasant memories, then snapped back to the present when the other Voyager moved across their viewscreen. Their orbit was such that they didn’t see the other ship very often, and Janeway thought as she watched that she really preferred it that way. It was just a little…spooky to see themselves as they were three years ago. She knew there were people on that ship who were gone from hers, and she ached for the memory of the crew—and one very special friend—that she’d lost since then. Of course, she had added two new people as well, both of whom had immeasurably enriched her life.

And now you’re leaving one of them behind. The unbidden thought was sharp, cutting through her musings and causing such a pain in her heart that she couldn’t help but wonder:  if just thinking about it hurt this much, could she survive the actual event?

She looked at the other Voyager again. Of course she could survive it. Look at what she’d survived in the last three years. The Janeway over there had no idea what lay in store for her, but she’d get through it. They’d both get through whatever they had to.

At 1600 she dismissed the bridge crew for an early dinner break. They were all expected to return for a double shift, since Voyager’s departure from Earth would occur toward the middle of beta shift. She herself was unable to eat, being too keyed up about their upcoming jump, not to mention worried beyond belief about Lynne. It seemed to her that her partner had been gone for a week rather than just over a day, and their time was running out. Why hadn’t Lynne contacted the ship? Janeway could only think of two reasons:  one, that she’d decided to come back and was making the absolute most of her remaining time on Earth; or two, that she’d decided not to come back and was delaying her goodbye until the last minute. She tried to think positive, but in her heart she knew that option one was unlikely. If Lynne had decided to return to Voyager, she would have called by now. She’d have known that Janeway would worry until she’d gotten word, just as she always worried when Lynne was on an away mission. And Lynne had been so prompt at notifying Janeway upon her return from a mission—she simply wouldn’t let her partner dangle like this. Unless…Janeway’s eyes widened.

Unless there was an option three:  something had happened to prevent Lynne from contacting the ship.

Oh, my god. Janeway turned the conn over to the beta shift officer and practically ran to her ready room. As soon as the door closed behind her she hit her comm badge. She’d sworn to herself that she’d give Lynne the space she needed, but this was too frightening a scenario. She had to resolve it.

“Janeway to Hamilton.”

Silence.

Janeway closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. “Janeway to Hamilton. Please respond.”

She waited a few seconds longer, then tapped her badge again. “Janeway to Transporter Room Two. Lock onto Lynne Hamilton’s comm signal. If there are no human lifesigns in her area, transport her immediately to my ready room.” This was going against everything she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do, and Lynne would have every right to be angry, but she just couldn’t see any other way around it.

She turned at the sound of a transporter behind her, watching eagerly for the first signs of her partner’s form. But there was nothing taking shape in the beam. Chills ran down her spine as the beam faded, leaving a small object behind.

Stepping forward, she picked Lynne’s comm badge off the floor, gazing at it for several seconds before closing her fist around it and holding it to her chest. Then she turned and sprinted for the door.

As she strode back onto the bridge, the alpha shift personnel were filing back in and taking over their stations. She went straight to Harry Kim.

“Harry, Lynne’s lost her comm badge. If she meant to return, she has no way of letting us know. We’ve got to find her.”

Harry, to his credit, didn’t flicker at the news. “I’ll get on it now. The Doctor may have some ideas on how to distinguish her from…the others.” Janeway almost smiled at his tact, but she knew what he’d been about to say. How to distinguish her from the other five billion humans down there.

“Good. Keep me apprised of your progress.” She didn’t have to tell Harry that they were running dangerously low on time. Harry nodded and left the bridge, the beta shift officer stepping immediately to his station. Janeway returned to her captain’s chair, settling back into the comfortable leather. She still clutched Lynne’s comm badge in her fist. There was nothing she could do but wait, but oh, how different the waiting seemed now than it had just a few minutes ago.

An hour went by with Harry and the Doctor reporting no progress, and Janeway was ready to chew duranium rivets. Their departure countdown was now less than two hours. The tension on the bridge was thick, and Janeway knew it wasn’t just because of their imminent departure and the dangers it posed. Lynne Hamilton had impacted the lives of everyone on the bridge, and they were all worried about her.

It didn’t occur to her that the bridge crew were also worried about their captain.

She’d just closed the comm channel after another non-progress report from Harry when the bridge suddenly flared with a bright white light. Looking up, she saw a dark-haired man in a captain’s uniform leaning against Tom’s console, an insufferably smug expression on his face.

Oh, shit. I don’t have time for this.

“Q,” she said, her voice dripping with distaste. “Now is not a good time.”

Q was a member of an omnipotent race of beings known as the Q Continuum, and for some reason he seemed to take special joy in harassing Janeway and her crew.

“Kathy!” he exclaimed jovially. “I’ve missed you as well. It has been awhile.”

Janeway resisted the temptation to pull her phaser from the console and shoot him. It would be useless, of course, but it might make her feel better.

“Why, Kathy, such an…uncivil thought,” said Q, shaking a finger at her. “Of course I shouldn’t have expected hospitality, even though I’m here to save your pitiful crew from a fate they richly deserve—lifelong anonymity in the dismal dark ages of this planet.”

Janeway didn’t try to repress her resigned sigh. “All right, what’s this about, Q?”

Another flash of light, and Janeway found herself looking at Chakotay. Rolling her eyes, she turned to Q, who was now lounging in Chakotay’s chair. He gave her a puppy-dog look. “I really must apologize, Kathy. I’m afraid that it was my delightfully precocious child who has put you in this situation. He was manipulating the space/time continuum and…well, these things take practice to get right. You’ve unfortunately been caught in one of his first attempts. Being the responsible and thoughtful father that I am, I’m here to correct the error.”

Janeway narrowed her eyes. This made more sense than any of their earlier theories, and if Q was genuine, she would certainly take him up on his offer.

“So you’re going to send us back to our own time?” she asked. “Without any clauses or conditions?”

Q stood up, tugging on his tunic to straighten out the non-existent wrinkles. “Such a distrustful attitude. You really should work on that; it’s very unattractive.” He looked around the bridge, sniffing in distaste. “Why you trust these narrow-minded little specimens and not me, I’ll never understand.” His tone changed to one of cheerful bonhomie. “But fortunately, I don’t need to. It’s time for you to go. It’s been lovely seeing you again, as always.” He raised his fingers to snap them, but stopped in surprise when Janeway suddenly launched out of her chair.

“No! Q, you can’t send us back yet,” she said vehemently. “I still have someone on the planet. We didn’t expect to leave this soon.”

Q looked at her with uncharacteristic sympathy.

“Kathy, everyone who is meant to be on this ship is already here. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Janeway shouted, but Q was gone—and so was Earth from their viewscreen.

There was a roaring in her ears, and dimly she could make out Tom’s voice announcing that they’d returned to their original coordinates and time. She stood there unmoving, waiting for the darkness to clear from her vision. When at last it faded, she was horrified to see every member of the bridge crew regarding her with expressions of sorrow and pity. She couldn’t bear to stay there a moment longer. In a voice that surprised her with its even tones, she said, “Resume course for the Alpha Quadrant. Chakotay, you have the bridge. I’ll be in my ready room.” Then she turned and walked off the bridge, holding her head high.

As soon as the ready room door closed behind her, her erect bearing collapsed. She barely made it the few steps to her chair before her legs gave out beneath her and she slumped behind her desk, staring dully at the PADDs spread across the surface. More reports and logs, and the personnel reports were due tomorrow, weren’t they? She and Chakotay would have to set up a meeting; those things usually took all morning. Her gaze shifted to her terminal. An icon in the lower corner showed that she had new messages; not surprising since she hadn’t been behind her desk for the last six hours. She’d get to those eventually. She’d get to it all eventually. Just not now. Sometime later, when she could think again.

Using the desk as a support, she pushed herself upright and made her way to the replicator on the upper level.

“Whiskey and soda,” she said, barely able to recognize her own voice. She’d never before had alcohol in her ready room, but now seemed like a good time to start.

The replicator dutifully fulfilled her request, and she took the glass over to the sofa. Had it only been yesterday that she’d sat here, holding Lynne’s hands? It seemed a lifetime ago, and she’d been a different person then. A person who could conceive of being happy. Now, however, she knew with complete certainty that she would never take joy in her existence again. She might achieve some form of contentment here and there, but anything beyond that would always elude her. Years of emptiness stretched out ahead of her, mocking her with the promise they’d held just one day earlier. She’d had her chance, and she’d lost it.

She remembered the stark expression on Lynne’s face when she’d asked if Janeway wanted her to stay. How very like Lynne, distilling a difficult situation down to one simple question. And Janeway had refused to answer.

“Of course I wanted you to stay,” she whispered. But there was no one to hear, and her words came almost four hundred years too late.

A curious dullness settled over her. How interesting that she could consider her future so dispassionately; that she could foresee a joyless existence and yet feel nothing. She welcomed the numbness, knowing that never feeling again was the only way she could continue to function.

As the alcohol blazed a trail down her throat, she thought about Q’s parting words. What had he meant about everyone being on board who was supposed to be there? Was Lynne destined to stay behind on Earth? When had she made that decision—before or after she’d lost her comm badge? Or had she thrown her comm badge away after deciding not to return?

Oh, god, thought Janeway. Did she never mean to say goodbye? The thought was like a phaser through her gut, and she bent over at the waist in response to the physical pain it engendered.

By the time her second whiskey and soda was empty, however, she’d decided this last thought was a disservice to her partner. Lynne would never have taken the easy way out; she would never have allowed Janeway to leave without saying goodbye. No, that damned Q had sent them off before they’d had time to find her. Because of him, she’d never gotten to touch Lynne one last time, to hold her as tightly as she could, and tell her just how much she loved her.

She stumbled slightly while bringing her third drink back to the sofa, which reminded her that she hadn’t taken a dinner break. Or a lunch break, for that matter. Maybe she should eat something.

She leaned back, sipping the drink and trying to decide what to order. An hour later she realized with some surprise that her glass was empty and she still hadn’t thought of what she wanted to eat. In fact, she hadn’t thought of much of anything. It was as if her brain was on standby, powered down but ready to be brought back to full service should it be necessary.

She hoped it wouldn’t be necessary for a long, long time.

Standing up was a little more difficult than she’d expected, and it occurred to her that as much as she wanted the dulling effect that a fourth drink would provide, she really should take it in her own quarters rather than here. Otherwise she might never get to her quarters at all, and she didn’t want to spend two nights in a row here.

Carefully she made her way down the steps to the lower level. Stopping in front of the door, she brushed her hands down the front of her uniform to straighten out the creases, brought her head up and shoulders back, and strode onto the bridge. She paused momentarily, wondering where her bridge crew had gone, but then realized that it was shading toward gamma shift and the relief personnel had probably taken over hours ago. Chakotay had most likely notified her when he’d left the bridge, but knowing him he’d chosen to send a message to her terminal rather than disturbing her with a call. She nodded to the lieutenant covering the bridge and continued on to the turbolift, not allowing herself to relax until the doors closed.

“Deck three,” she said, slumping against the wall as the turbolift hummed. It took a monumental effort of will to stand up straight when the doors opened, and the short walk to her quarters seemed like a mile at least. But she made it, and at last she was safe from the sympathetic eyes of her crew.

She walked straight to the replicator and took her fourth drink to the couch, where she sat watching the star streaks. How many times had she and Lynne sat here together, talking about history and philosophy and whatever else struck their fancy? If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel Lynne there, tucked against the arm of the couch in her favorite position, her legs curled beneath her and a cup of tea or hot cocoa cradled between her hands.

Keeping her eyes shut, she called out, “Computer, play Bel Canto, Shimmering Warm and Bright.” It was the last musical selection she and Lynne had listened to together, and she needed to hear it now. Needed that connection.

As the ethereal strains of the music filled her quarters, Janeway finally began to relax. The alcohol coursing through her bloodstream dulled her brain to the point where consciousness was no longer an option, and at last she fell into welcome oblivion.

 

 

 

 

---

Chapter 35

 

 

Jolting awake, Janeway looked wildly around her. She’d heard Lynne laughing and calling her name, and it had been so important that she find her…but Lynne had stayed just out of reach, never letting her get close. She couldn't catch up with her, couldn't see her, and panic was taking over as she realized that she was running out of time.

The pounding of her heart slowed as the dream faded. Gradually her mind cleared and she remembered.

Lynne wasn’t here. She’d never be here again.

The terrible sense of loss hit her, and she wished she’d never woken up. Frightening as the dream had been, reality was far worse. She wanted nothing more than to sleep forever, never again feeling the pain that was weighing down her mind and body, making her wonder if she’d ever be able to live again. Right now, living wasn’t something that looked all that appealing. Of course, the alternative was out of the question. All that was left was some sort of in-between state—functioning, but not really alive.

She rose from the couch, a little wobbly on her legs, and paced around the room. She needed something, but wasn’t quite sure what it was. She was wide awake, so going to bed wasn’t it. Not that she particularly wanted to get into her bed anyway—all that did was remind her of the last time she’d shared it with Lynne.

She supposed she should get some food into her system, but the thought of actually having to decide what to order was overwhelming. She just couldn’t make a decision of that magnitude right now.

After another circuit around the room, she found herself heading out the door. It wasn’t until she stood in the turbolift that she realized where she wanted to go.

“Deck six,” she said. The doors closed and she listened to the quiet hum of the ‘lift as it swiftly carried her to a deck that she now knew as well as her own quarters. She needed to be closer to Lynne, and there was only one place she could go for that.

Stepping into the familiar room, Janeway stopped just inside and brought up the lights. It was strange that these quarters could look just the same when everything was so terribly different now. She could almost believe that Lynne had never left, except for the desolate feeling of emptiness to the room. She’d always thought these quarters were the most comfortable and inviting on the whole ship, but now she realized that what made them that way was Lynne herself, not anything in the décor. The room was lifeless now that Lynne was gone.

Slowly Janeway wandered along the right hand wall, examining the pictures. It occurred to her that she should put one or two of these up in her own quarters, since she had few other reminders of her partner. When she arrived at the picture of Denali, she knew this was the one she’d take. She reached out and ran her finger down a ridgeline, wondering which route Lynne would choose to climb when she went back. Because of course she would go back—she’d probably be on that peak as soon as it was remotely safe to climb.

“I hope you finish your business with this mountain,” she said aloud, remembering Lynne’s oath.

Turning toward the viewport, she stumbled when her foot struck something on the floor. A large box sat there, looking out of place in the otherwise neat quarters. She’d never seen it before—Lynne must have beamed it up.

Her brain caught on that. Beamed it up? Why?

Kneeling, she opened the box. Hundreds of small squares of plastic were stacked inside, all bearing different images. She reached in and pulled one out, reading the text on the front. George Gershwin, Rhapsody in Blue. She turned the square around in her hand, saw the hinge and opened it. Inside was a reflective metallic disc and a small booklet held against the case cover by plastic tabs. Now she knew what this was—Lynne had told her about the media used in her time to record and play back music. These were all albums.

Closing the disc case and putting it on the floor, Janeway pulled a stack from the box and began to look through them. She recognized some of the artists and titles from her many evenings comparing musical tastes with Lynne. Here were three albums by Bel Canto. Here was one by Duke Ellington—she remembered Lynne being particularly astonished to find that he hadn’t made it to the twenty-fourth century. Several by someone named Sting—interesting name. She wished she could ask Lynne about it; no doubt she’d know the story behind that, no matter how esoteric. A few more discs down and she reached one that sent chills down her spine. Chris de Burgh, The Lady in Red. With shaking hands, she opened the case and pulled out the booklet. There were the lyrics that Lynne had kept to herself the night of the Tsian banquet.

 

I've never seen you looking so gorgeous as you did tonight

I've never seen you shine so bright

You were amazing

I've never seen so many people want to be there by your side

And when you turned to me and smiled

You took my breath away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter love

As I do tonight

The lady in red is dancing with me

 

She remembered what Lynne had said that night, when she’d laughingly refused to share the lyrics. “I want to do this right,” she’d said. “Give me a little time and I’ll figure it out.”

The booklet dropped from Janeway’s nerveless fingers as the realization hit her with stunning force.

She was coming back. Oh, dear god, she was coming back.

Lynne had collected all of this music in preparation for leaving Earth for good. She’d made sure, while she was putting this together, that she included a song that would mean something to both of them. She’d beamed this box up and then, somehow, she’d lost her comm badge before beaming back herself.

An image came unbidden to Janeway’s mind:  she could see Lynne looking up at the sky, an expression of utter despair on her features as time ran out and she understood that she’d been left behind. It was the same expression that Janeway had seen the night she’d finally gotten Lynne to talk about her feelings of loss. The night they’d become lovers. And now, just when Lynne had decided where she really belonged, she’d lost everything a second time.

Again, Janeway thought, her mind suddenly coming alive. It happened again. And she never got to say goodbye.

And then Janeway felt for the first time since they’d left Earth. The merciful numbness that had protected her for so many hours dropped away, and the pain tore a hole right through her heart, shattering it into so many pieces that she was sure she’d never, ever reassemble it. The wave of grief that rolled over her was so overwhelming that she could no longer hold herself upright. Slumping against the wall, she covered her face with her hands, unable to stop the agony that she felt for Lynne. And that unwanted emotion provided a conduit for her own anguish, the pain of knowing that Lynne had chosen her, irrevocably and with all her heart, and she’d lost her anyway.

A choked cry ripped from her throat, and she finally let go of the grip she’d had on her emotions. She was safe in these quarters; there was no one here to see her break. Her body shook with a paroxysm of grief, the sobs coming so hard and so fast that she was gasping for air. A parade of memories passed through her mind, each remembered smile and touch sending her deeper into despair. She could almost hear Lynne’s voice calling her name, and the knowledge that she’d never again hear that voice anywhere but in her memories made her cry even harder.

Gentle hands touched her shoulders.

“Kathryn! What’s wrong?”

Janeway sat bolt upright, so shocked that she couldn’t breathe. Her sobs were cut off as if a valve had been turned, and she stared uncomprehendingly into the very concerned eyes of her partner. Lynne was wearing a robe, and her tousled hair flowed loosely about her shoulders. Janeway’s first wild thought was that she was seeing an angel; her second was that she’d lost her mind completely.

Lynne’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “Kathryn, please talk to me. What’s happened? What’s wrong?” Her expression was getting more worried by the second.

Janeway couldn’t process this. She reached out with a shaking hand to touch Lynne’s face, half expecting her fingers to pass right through. But they touched solid, warm skin.

“How is this possible?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “How can you be here?” Then an explanation occurred to her, and she jerked her hand back as if it had been burned.

“If you’re a Q trick,” she snarled, “I swear I’ll find a way to kill you no matter how omnipotent you are.”

Wide-eyed, Lynne let go of her shoulders and grasped both of her hands. “Kathryn, it’s me. I’m not a trick, and I’m right here. But you’re scaring the hell out of me. Please tell me what’s going on.”

The hands holding hers felt real. She looked into Lynne’s green eyes and thought that even Q couldn’t imitate the mixture of bewilderment, alarm and love she saw there. The shock that had held her body so rigid relaxed its grip, and she sagged against Lynne, feeling welcome arms encircle her.

“Don’t go,” she whispered, burrowing her face into Lynne’s shoulder and holding on with all her strength. “Please don’t go; I can’t take it.”

Lynne’s arms tightened around her. “I’m not going anywhere, love. I’m right here.”

Janeway felt Lynne kiss the top of her head and rest her cheek there, and the reality of her deliverance began to sink in. She snuggled closer, trying to fit every inch of her body into Lynne’s, gratefully breathing in the familiar scent of her lover’s skin. Slipping one arm inside Lynne’s robe, she wrapped it around the slim waist and reveled in the warmth she felt there. Right now the universe was just too big for her to handle, and she needed someone to hold it back. Lynne’s arms were the only thing between her and the blackness that had yawned before her moments ago, and she wasn’t about to move a millimeter beyond their protective embrace.

It was a long, long time before she finally felt able to pull back far enough to look into Lynne’s face.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said. She swallowed hard and winced. Her throat hurt, and speaking made it worse.

Lynne saw it. “Don’t move,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She gently extracted herself and went to the replicator, returning with a glass of water. Janeway watched her every step, feeling that if she looked away for even a moment, Lynne might disappear again. Gratefully, she took the glass Lynne held out and drained it, then cleared her throat experimentally.

“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was still hoarse, but at least her throat didn’t hurt as much. Her head, however, was a different matter. The numbness she’d felt earlier had now given way to a raging headache.

“You’re welcome,” said Lynne, watching Janeway with a concerned expression as she knelt in front of her. “Kathryn, how could you think you’d lost me? Didn’t you get my message?”

“What message?”

“The one I sent to your ready room. Like I always do. I knew you’d be busy with the timing of our departure, so I just asked you to come here as soon as you could and join me in bed. I fell asleep waiting for you.”

Janeway remembered the icon on her terminal that she’d ignored. “Oh my god. I didn’t read it, Lynne. I was already sure you were gone by then, and I was so destroyed that I couldn’t do anything but sit and drink myself into oblivion. Catching up on my work messages was not on my priority list.”

Lynne considered this, tilting her head as she studied Janeway’s face. “Kathryn, this doesn’t make sense. Why were you so sure that I was gone?”

“Because Q showed up on the bridge and sent us back early, and when I tried to stop him, he said that everyone who was meant to be on Voyager was already on board. Since you weren’t here, I assumed he was saying that you weren’t meant to come with us. That you were back where you belonged.” She put the glass down and reached out for Lynne’s hands, needing the connection. “How did you get here without me knowing about it? I’d ordered the transporter room to notify me as soon as you returned. And how the hell did you transport back without your comm badge?”

“I didn’t transport back,” said Lynne. “Q brought me.”

“What!”

Lynne looked a little startled at Janeway’s outburst. “He said that you were having problems with your transporters, and he was there to retrieve me. I thought you knew I was back on board.”

Janeway shook her head. “I think you’d better tell me everything from the beginning.”

“I will,” said Lynne, “but first things first. You look like you’re in shock, and I mean physically. Come on, let’s get you to the couch.” She stood up, pulling Janeway with her, and supported her as they walked the short distance. Janeway had rarely felt so weak and sank gratefully onto the cushions, putting up no resistance as Lynne lifted her legs onto the couch and turned her so that she was leaning against the armrest. Moving to a cupboard beneath the viewport, Lynne pulled out a pillow and blanket, returning to tuck the blanket around Janeway’s legs and helping her sit up long enough to place the pillow behind her shoulders. Janeway leaned back, feeling surrounded by comfort and love and more pampering than she could ever remember allowing in her adult life.

Lynne sat on the edge of the couch, eyeing Janeway with the professional air of a medic. “You smell like a distillery—how much alcohol did you have?”

“Just four whiskey and sodas,” said Janeway. “I think.”

Lynne frowned. “You look worse than four whiskey and sodas, though that alone would be enough to wipe most people out. What have you had to eat recently?”

Janeway had to think about that. “Nothing since breakfast yesterday.”

“Anything to drink besides the alcohol?”

“Coffee. I drank quite a bit of coffee.”

“Great, another diuretic. Kathryn, you’re dehydrated and low on blood sugar. If I bring you some food, will you eat it?”

“I’ll try,” said Janeway, although the thought of food was extremely unappealing at the moment. “If you’ll promise to tell me everything while I’m eating.”

“Deal,” said Lynne, rising from the couch. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Janeway could almost laugh at the command, considering the events of the previous day. But she was far too wrung out for anything requiring that much energy, contenting herself instead with watching her partner as she ordered several items from the replicator. She was curious to see Lynne lean over and pull something from a bag on the floor. As Lynne came back to the couch, Janeway levered herself to a more upright position. The scents wafting off the tray were suddenly far more appetizing than she’d expected, and she thought she might actually be able to eat something. Lynne put the tray on her lap and sat on the edge of the couch as Janeway inspected the meal. A tall glass of water, a steaming bowl of chicken vegetable soup, a small dish of applesauce, and…fresh bread? She looked up and pointed at the bread. “This didn’t come from the replicator.”

“No, it didn’t,” said Lynne, smiling for the first time. “You now have in your possession a precious piece of the only fresh-baked baguette in the entire Delta Quadrant. I got it from my favorite bakery this afternoon, and it’s worth its weight in gold. You can dip it in your soup if you’d like, but I’d recommend just eating it straight so you can really taste it.”

Janeway broke off a piece and tried it, closing her eyes as the flavors hit her taste buds. “Oh my god, that’s good,” she mumbled around the bread. Swallowing, she said, “Do I detect rosemary?”

Lynne nodded. “I’ve also got two regular loaves in the bag, both different flavors. Of course you’ll have to help me eat them, and quickly. It would be tragic to let them go stale.”

“I’ll be more than happy to assist you with that,” said Janeway. She was still dazed that Lynne was even there, but for some reason, hearing her partner talking about something as mundane as bread seemed to solidify her presence. She was beginning to feel a little more normal, and suddenly realized that she was famished. Tucking in to the meal, she said, “All right, I’m eating. So fill me in on what happened. How did you meet Q?”

Lynne rested her arm on the back of the couch and leaned over Janeway, making herself more comfortable.

“I’d done everything I needed to in Boulder, so I took a cab out to a trailhead where I could hike up to a peak with a good view of the Rockies. I’ve always been able to think best in the mountains,” she explained, “and I had a lot to think about. I’d pitched a tent just below the summit, but I ended up sleeping in my bag right at the top because the weather was so fantastic. By the next morning I’d made my decision to come back to Voyager. I was going to call you, but I wanted to have my campsite packed up first. So I started the climb back down to my tent, and as I was squeezing between two boulders, my comm badge got ripped off my shirt.”

She looked down at Janeway, her face showing remembered fear. “Kathryn, I’ve never been so scared in my life. I saw the badge fall down a crack and dove after it, but I wasn’t fast enough. It ended up in a little crevice way beyond my reach. I was sitting there, racking my brain for some way of getting it out of there, but I knew there wasn’t anything in my pack that would work. And while I sat there, all alone, here comes this man in a Starfleet uniform with captain’s pips on his collar. I’d never seen him before, so you can imagine my confusion. I didn’t know where the hell he’d come from. He just walked right up and called me by name, like he’d known me all his life.”

Janeway nodded. “It’s one of his more annoying habits. He calls me Kathy because he knows I hate it.”

“I didn’t find him annoying at all,” said Lynne. “He was really very friendly. He introduced himself and said he was a friend of yours, and that he was repaying a favor he owed you. He told me that your transporters weren’t working, and that you’d asked him to bring me back if that was what I wanted. And oh god, was that ever what I wanted. But I still had a few errands to run first, now that I knew I wasn’t staying on Earth, so I asked him to take me back to Boulder. I knew who he was once he introduced himself—Voyager’s logs are full of stories about Q. And I must say, I didn’t really expect him to do what I asked. But he was very nice about it, and took me where I wanted to go. After we finished my errands he brought me back here and told me that you’d be very busy for the next few hours, but that you’d be along as soon as you could. Then he gave me a message for you.”

Janeway looked up from her soup and frowned. “What was it?”

“Well,” said Lynne, “it was kind of odd. He said to tell you that to repay his debt, he’d given both of us clarity of mind, which we seemed to be lacking. And he hoped that now that we both knew what we really wanted, we’d get on with things and stop being so ridiculously limited. Then he vanished. Do you know what he meant?”

Janeway dropped her spoon on the tray with a clatter and swore for ten seconds straight while Lynne looked on in amazement.

“I’ve never even heard some of those words,” said Lynne, her eyes wide. “You must be feeling better.”

“That insufferable, arrogant bastard!” spat Janeway, who wasn’t quite finished yet. “I’ll kill him with my bare hands! He set this whole thing up. I can’t believe even he could be so fucking heartless.”

She saw the bewildered expression on Lynne’s face and tried to calm herself. “Lynne, Q is no friend of mine. He’s an omnipotent being who loves to amuse himself by torturing other life forms such as this crew and, for some reason, me in particular. I think the favor he’s referring to dates back to when I helped him during a civil war in the Q Continuum, and he’s found a way to repay it that appeals to his warped sense of humor. It’s never good to have Q “help” in anything, because his assistance usually makes things far worse before it makes them better. This is a classic example. He knew I had doubts about our relationship, and this was his way of removing them. Kind of like amputating a leg to get rid of an itch.”

Lynne sat up straight. “Doubts? What sort of doubts?”

Janeway groaned internally. Now she’d put her foot in it. Goddamn you to hell, Q, she thought. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Let me rephrase that. Not doubts about our relationship, but about your happiness. Lynne, you’ve told me a number of times that you’ve felt trapped here, restricted from the type of freedom you were accustomed to having. You said you were having to adjust to the fact that I hold ultimate authority over the ship and everyone on it, including you. And you’ve also said that you felt stranded. I didn’t doubt your commitment or your love, but I have questioned how much you wanted the captain part of me, and all of the conditions that come with shipboard life. I think Q set this up so that you’d have to choose, knowing that if you chose to stay with me, I’d be free of those doubts.”

Lynne stared at her, storm clouds gathering on her face. “Are you telling me that Q brought Voyager to 1996 Earth just so that I’d have to choose between staying here and going home?”

Janeway nodded.

For a moment Lynne seemed about to explode. “Kathryn, he put me through hell! And he put you through more than hell, judging by the condition I found you in. And to think I actually thought he was nice.” She was working herself up into a towering rage, which Janeway certainly understood. But then she suddenly stopped—and laughed. This Janeway didn’t understand at all, and for a moment she feared for her partner’s sanity. Lynne must have seen the consternation on her face, because she laughed again and shook her head, her eyes shining with tears.

“Sorry, Kathryn, I’m right on the edge here. I’ve never before wanted to kill someone and thank them at the same time. I hate that bastard for what he did to us—mostly for what he did to you—but on the other hand, he also did us both a favor.” She got up from the couch and paced back and forth a few times before coming to a stop and kneeling in front of Janeway.

“You’re right, I haven’t been truly happy here,” she said, looking intently into Janeway’s eyes. “I’ve made a great life for myself, mostly thanks to you, and my relationship with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me, in this life or my old one. But I’ve missed my old life, and I could never get over the fact that I had no closure with the people I loved. And yes, I’ve had some trouble dealing with your role as captain of this ship. But Kathryn, today I put all of that to rest. I feel free, for the first time since I got here, and I can’t tell you how good it feels. I’m finally free of my past—and free to love you with all of my heart.”

Janeway looked at Lynne’s glowing face, and could see for herself the truth of her partner’s words. Despite her momentary anger, there was a deeper relaxation about her, a smoothing of the lines around her eyes, and the love that radiated out of those eyes cooled Janeway’s own anger considerably. Gently, she ran the back of her hand down Lynne’s cheek.

“Then maybe, in about ninety years, I can forgive Q his little favor. Because it means everything to me to hear you say that, and to know that you’ve chosen to be here with me.”

Lynne grasped her wrist, turned it and kissed the pulse point. It was a gesture that never failed to send a thrill down Janeway’s spine, and she felt a little breathless at her rapid transition from utter despair to blind anger to the complete happiness that now brightened her soul. Even her headache was gone. The universe had shrunk back to its normal, conquerable size, and she thought she could face anything as long as Lynne was here beside her. She watched as Lynne leaned in to kiss her, only to pull back abruptly when she bumped into the food tray.

“How are you doing with that?” asked Lynne. “Can I spill anything for you?”

Janeway laughed. “No, I think I’ve got it under control. Actually, I’ve eaten all I’m going to. Can we get rid of this?”

“Gladly.” Lynne took the tray from Janeway’s lap and carried it over to the table, returning to sit on the edge of the sofa. Janeway immediately took the opportunity to wrap her arms around her partner, who was examining her appraisingly.

“You look a lot better,” said Lynne.

“I feel a lot better. But I think having you here has more to do with it than the food.”

Lynne smiled then, the brilliant kind of smile that always made Janeway’s heart stop for a moment.

“Have I mentioned to you how much I love you?”

“Not in the last five seconds,” said Janeway. “But you did give me a small gesture of your affection recently.”

“Ah, you mean the bread,” said Lynne knowingly. “You’re right, I wouldn’t share that with just anyone.”

Janeway dug her fingers into Lynne’s ribs, causing her to squirm and giggle. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she said. Her hands stilled and her tone grew more serious. “Lynne, I feel…well, humbled. I can’t believe what you gave up for me, and I don’t know if I can ever express what it means to me that you freely chose me over a life that you’ve missed so desperately.”

She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the vision she’d had of a future without Lynne. Shaking off the dark memory, she added, “I would have gone on without you, but I wouldn’t have been the same person. Who I am right now depends on you. I need you, Lynne, and I am so grateful you came back.”

Lynne’s mouth curved in a slow, delighted smile. “Do you know that’s the first time you’ve ever said you need me?”

“Is it?” Janeway couldn’t believe it. She’d thought it so many times, but…had she ever said it?

“Yes, it is,” said Lynne. She took Janeway’s hands from around her waist and held them in her own. “But I figured it out anyway. Kathryn, it really hurt when you refused to ask me to stay. I thought that maybe I’d been wrong, that maybe what we had wasn’t quite as deep for you as it was for me. It took me until this morning to realize that I had to think about it from your point of view, not from mine. Then I remembered how many decisions I’ve watched you make for the good of the ship, or the good of another person, even when it cost you personally. And I realized that you were doing it again, and you’d told me as much when you said you couldn’t have any part in my decision. That was when everything fell into place, and I knew that I didn’t belong on Earth anymore.”

“You didn’t belong on Earth?” Janeway was startled. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

“I didn’t expect it, either. But it became very obvious after awhile. You say that who you are now depends on me—well, I can say the same about you. With you I’m more than I was before, and I’m a part of something much bigger than I ever was on Earth. And…well, Earth isn’t the same as I remembered it.” She squeezed Janeway’s hands. “Do you know what I did when I left here?”

Janeway shook her head.

“I went straight to my favorite coffee shop, bought a paper—oh, and a treat for you, by the way.” She waved a hand toward the bag by the replicator. “I got you a fifty-pound bag of the best Columbian blend I could find. That cost a mint, let me tell you.”

Janeway sat up straight. “You brought me coffee? Real coffee?”

“Oh, yeah.” Lynne grinned. “Would you like a cup?”

Janeway thought about it, then relaxed against the armrest again. “I’d kill for one, but later. Right now I want to hear your story.”

“Okay.” Lynne settled down as well. “So, I got a paper and a cup of hot cocoa, and then I just sat there for an hour, reading the paper and bringing myself up to date on what was happening in 1996. And when I was done, I felt like I was on an alien planet. The news was full of armed conflicts, environmental assaults, crime and greed and poverty—it was the ugly truth about my time that I’d conveniently forgotten. And I knew that it was going to get a lot worse before it got better, and that I’d be in the position of knowing when the next world war would begin, without being able to do a thing to prevent it.”

“Surely you didn’t base your decision on that. Those problems are timeless,” said Janeway, thinking about the conflicts she’d seen in the Federation, the races that were poisoning their planets, and the universality of greed. “Voyager seems to attract some of those things on a regular basis.”

“Don’t I know it,” said Lynne. “I never got myself shot off a summit until I came here. But I know that those problems will never be solved on Earth in my lifetime, whereas in this time, they have been solved—or at least greatly minimized. We’ve finally gotten it right. That’s the Earth that I want to go back to if we get the chance.”

Janeway shook her head. “But Lynne, those are just the negative aspects of your time. What about your family? Your freedom? What about all of the good things you’ve been missing?”

“Are you playing Devil’s advocate?” asked Lynne. “You’re a bit late.”

Janeway couldn’t help but smile at that. “True, and I thank any available deity in the universe for that. But I don’t think I’m getting the whole picture here.”

“No, you’re not,” said Lynne, leaning over Janeway and putting a supporting arm on the back of the couch. “But let’s start with my freedom. You’re right, that was one of my most compelling reasons to want to go back. So after I left the coffee shop, I headed straight out for the mountains. I’d brought gear from the ship, so I just hopped into a cab and went, reveling in the fact that I could go anywhere and do anything I wanted. And I spent all the rest of that day hiking up one of my favorite peaks. It was marvelous, Kathryn—everything that I had remembered and missed. I pitched my tent just below the summit and then sat up on top and watched the sunset. It was a calm night, and I ended up sitting there and watching the stars for most of the night. And I found myself scanning the sky for satellites and wondering which of those points of light might be you. By the next morning, after a glorious day and night of doing exactly what I wanted to do, I’d made an astonishing discovery. I would never in my life have thought it, but it’s true.” She paused, pushing her hair back from her face. “Sometimes, freedom is just another word for loneliness.”

Janeway stared at her, understanding that her partner had just made a paradigm shift in her way of thinking. “You mean because you had no one to share your experience with?”

“Not exactly. I could have eventually found someone, if only a climbing partner. But it wouldn’t have been you. You’re the one I want to share my experiences with, and if you can’t be there with me, then I want to be able to come home and tell you about my experiences. And I want to hear about yours. I sat there and thought about all of the peaks I wanted to climb on Earth, and the appeal was just gone. It doesn’t mean anything without you. The freedom that I cherished and missed and fought you for isn’t what I remembered. I think I was fighting for a memory more than a reality.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to fight with me about it any more?” asked Janeway in a hopeful tone. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease Lynne, even as her heart constricted with the import of what she was hearing.

Lynne laughed. “That depends. Are you going to let me do whatever I want, whenever I want?”

Janeway didn’t miss a beat. “That depends, too. On whether what you want and when you want it is at odds with what’s best for this ship and her crew.”

“Ah yes. I knew that.” Lynne leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on Janeway’s jaw before straightening again. “And I decided, while sitting on that mountain, that I could live with it. It’s a smaller price to pay than I used to think, and the rewards are incredible. Not just you—though that would be reward enough—but also the possibilities that exist for me here. Kathryn, you’re on an amazing journey, and the things that I’ve seen and done in just eight months with you transcend almost anything I could hope to do back home. I realized that if I stayed behind, I’d be taking a giant step backward—that I’d be running away from the possibility of being more than I thought I could be, of being a part of something so much bigger than myself. And, I’d lose the most important person in my life. Given those realizations, it was actually a pretty easy decision to stay with you, especially once I’d also figured out that the reason you didn’t ask me to stay wasn’t because you didn’t want me.”

“God, no,” said Janeway. “I wanted you badly enough that when I thought I’d lost you—” She stopped and shook her head.

Lynne’s expression was somber as she regarded Janeway, and when she spoke, her voice was gentle.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Janeway thought about the overwhelming grief and darkness that had nearly swallowed her such a short time ago, and knew that it was still far too close.

“No,” she said simply. “Not yet.”

She suddenly felt drained; the wild extremes of emotion she’d been dragged through were catching up with her. She closed her eyes briefly, opening them when she felt the couch shift. Lynne was standing over her with hands outstretched.

“Come on,” said Lynne quietly. “I think we’ve both had enough of this for now. Would you mind terribly if I just took you to bed and held you for about two days?”

Janeway pulled the blanket off her legs, took Lynne’s hands and stood up. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do,” she said.

Her mind seemed to be closing down again, but this time it was from fatigue rather than shock. The next few minutes passed in something of a blur, and she was only marginally aware of Lynne undressing her and guiding her into the bed. She turned onto her side and began to drift away, coming back to the surface when she felt Lynne’s arms wrap around her from behind. A thought occurred to her, and she smiled in the darkness.

“So,” she said sleepily, “does this mean you’ve decided to embrace your future?”

A sigh tickled the back of her neck. Lynne’s voice sounded exasperated, but Janeway could hear the amusement in it as well.

“Honestly, Kathryn. Was that an intentional pun? Do I have to look forward to a lifetime of those?”

Janeway snuggled closer into Lynne’s warmth. “You can’t complain; it was your choice,” she said, feeling a solid, confident happiness at the truth of that statement. Lynne made no response other than kissing her shoulder, and soon Janeway’s body was sinking into the mattress and pulling her consciousness with it. Then she remembered that there was something important Lynne hadn’t told her. With an effort she dragged herself back up again.

“Lynne, what about your family?”

Lynne’s arms tightened around her. “I found a way to say goodbye. Now let it go, Kathryn. Go to sleep. We can talk more in the morning.”

Janeway relaxed, and this time she didn’t fight the pull. A quiet contentment wrapped itself around her heart as she slid into the heavy darkness. Yes, they could talk in the morning. Lynne wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. Q had said it himself:  everyone who was meant to be aboard was here now. His way, she now realized, of saying that Lynne had never been destined to return to Earth.

Well, who was she to argue with destiny?

 

 

 

 

---

epilogue

 

 

The July sun had already dried out the previous night’s dew as a tall, silver-haired woman walked down her gravel driveway to the main road. She checked the mail every day at this time, and it seemed to her that in these last few days her routines and habits were all that kept her going. Five days ago her daughter had been lost on the slopes of Denali, and last night she’d gotten a phone call from the head of the search and rescue team, telling her as gently as he could that a heavy storm system had settled over the mountain, ending any further efforts. The system was not expected to clear for several days, he said, and by that time—well, not even an experienced mountaineer such as Lynne could survive that long on Denali, in storm conditions, without a tent or any gear. He expressed his sympathy and sorrow for her loss, but she hardly heard him. She’d spent the night staring into the darkness of her living room, thinking of her beautiful daughter and wondering how she could go on. No mother should outlive her child. It was just shockingly wrong.

The morning had dawned bright and clear, but the sunshine and warm scents of her beloved Colorado woods could not reach her this day. She seemed to see everything through a veil, her senses and even her thought processes dulled. When she reached the road, she realized that she was early—the mail truck was just now coming up the hill. She wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, but Phil, their postman, had surely seen her already. She couldn’t turn and leave now.

Resting an arm on her mailbox, she waited as Phil rolled up. He put the truck in neutral, pulled the handbrake and hopped out. “Mornin’, Elizabeth.”

“Good morning, Phil,” said Elizabeth Hamilton.

“Any word yet?” he asked. It was a small town; everyone knew.

Elizabeth looked over his head to the pines on the opposite side of the road, noting idly that the angle of the sun was sending shafts of sunlight through the branches. Normally she loved that kind of light, but it didn’t touch her now.

“They’ve called off the search,” she said.

Phil looked down at his feet for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “If there’s anything I can do…” His voice trailed off.

“Thank you, Phil. I appreciate it. But right now there’s nothing anyone can do.”

He nodded, and Elizabeth was thankful for the man’s taciturn nature. Phil wouldn’t try to make small talk.

“I’ve got a package for you in the back,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, “but it’s heavy. The thing must weigh over fifty pounds. Can I give you a lift back to the house?”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise. She wasn’t expecting anything. “All right,” she said, moving toward the passenger side. Phil opened the door politely, closing it after she’d settled in her seat. Soon they were bumping up her drive, a quarter mile of gravel winding through tall pines. Neither of them said a word until they’d arrived at the house, when Phil offered to carry the package in for her. She held the screen door for him, directing him to the kitchen table. He put the box down and turned to her, remembering to take off his ball cap.

“We were all proud of her, Elizabeth,” he said.

All she could do was nod. He turned and walked out of the house, giving her a final wave as he stepped into his truck.

As the sound of the truck’s engine faded, she returned to the kitchen to examine the box. Curious—the return address was a legal firm in Boulder. What could they possibly have to do with her?

She pulled a knife from the drawer and cut the tape on the package, opening the box to find a sealed manila envelope. She lifted the envelope out and stared in shock. Underneath was some sort of electronic device—and several rows of gleaming gold bars. She sat down, feeling a little shaky in the knees, and opened the envelope.

There was a second, smaller envelope inside, along with a single piece of stationery headed with the law firm’s logo. The letter was a notarized affidavit stating that the package had been brought into the firm’s office on August 22, 1996, and that their client had instructed that the package be held in the office safe and not mailed until July 19, 2001. It was signed by one of the firm’s partners.

Bewildered, she tossed the letter on the table and opened the smaller envelope. Her eyes widened as she saw the handwriting on the paper inside, and the envelope fluttered to the kitchen floor. It was from Lynne.

 

Dear Mom and Dad,

The little computer in the box is called a PADD. I’ve recorded a message on it that will explain everything—just hit the green key in the upper right corner, then the larger key at bottom center. Do make sure you’re sitting down. I love you both always—Lynne

 

Elizabeth put the letter on the table, breathing hard, then leaned over the box and pulled out the PADD with hands that were shaking so badly she was afraid she might drop it. She set the device on the table and examined it, wiping her suddenly sweaty hands on her jeans. Then she carefully tapped the two keys as Lynne had instructed.

She gasped when her daughter appeared on the small screen, smiling at her.

“Hi, Mom; hi, Dad—I sure wish I could talk to you face to face. I can’t tell you how much I miss you, but when I explain what’s happened, I think you’ll understand why I’ve made this choice.

“First things first:  If they haven’t already called off the search for me on Denali, then get on the phone and tell them to call it off. I don’t want anyone risking their lives up there, and they’re never going to find me. I am so sorry that you had to go through this, but there was no way I could prevent it. I’ll have this package shipped to you the day of my disappearance; hopefully it will get there quickly and spare you any unnecessary pain. Because I’m all right.

“I’ve got a long story to tell you, and it’s going to sound pretty unbelievable. But it’s true, and you know I’ve never lied to you. Well, not since high school, anyway.”

Elizabeth watched in increasing amazement as Lynne talked. Her story sounded like something that might be showing at the local multiplex, and Elizabeth wouldn’t have believed it for a second if it had been anyone else. But she and Lynne had always had a very open and honest relationship, and she had the utmost faith in her daughter. Besides, she had never seen such a look of love and happiness on Lynne’s face before. When Lynne spoke of her partner, Elizabeth felt her throat tighten at the sight of her daughter’s breathtaking smile.

“I understand now that I’ve never really loved before—not like this. And now that this chance to go home has appeared out of the blue, I find that I have to let it go. Much as I love you two, and much as I’d like to see everyone else, I can’t if it means losing Kathryn. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m so much more with her than I am without her. Besides, Mom, I know you’d kick my butt if I gave up my future for my past. You drummed into my head practically from birth that I should always strive to grow. I’m growing now, believe me! I’m just sorry that I can’t do it without leaving you behind.

“I’m including a little something in the box to help you through the next few years. Being able to replicate the local currency of whatever planet we’re orbiting is pretty damned handy, let me tell you. The gold in this package should be worth close to a half million dollars, and it will be worth a lot more if you take my advice on what to do with it. And in this case, past performance does guarantee future returns.”

Elizabeth shook her head in amusement as Lynne outlined some very specific investment advice, swearing them to secrecy. She already felt that she had everything she needed in the world just by knowing that her daughter was not only alive, but happy and in love. Well, she’d talk to John about it when he got back from his morning walk. Once he got over the shock of seeing this.

Lynne looked offscreen as a flash of light came and went. Elizabeth could hear the low tones of a man’s voice, but she couldn’t make out the words. “Oh, I think you’re going to forget you ever heard any of that,” said Lynne to the offscreen man. “Besides, I don’t recall inviting you to listen in on this. Butt out.” The man said something else and laughed. Then there was another flash of light and Lynne faced forward once again, smiling.

“Sorry about that. I have to get this to the lawyer, so I’ll say goodbye now. Once you’ve both heard this, I’m going to ask you to destroy the PADD. My friend Seven rigged it for a self-destruct. Take it outside, press the top left button three times and get yourself a good ten meters away. Please do this—it’s vitally important that this technology doesn’t get out of your hands. You’re the one who got me started reading Isaac Asimov, so you know how nasty things can get if the timeline gets compromised.

“That’s about it,” said Lynne, her face crumpling. Elizabeth felt her own eyes tearing up as she watched. “God, I wish I could hug you both one last time. Consider this a long-distance hug—across both years and miles. I love you both desperately, and I am so grateful that I got to have you for parents. You’re the best. I hope you’ll be happy for me—and if you ever want to see me again, go outside at night and look up. I’m in the stars.”

The screen went dark. Elizabeth continued to stare at it, tears rolling down her cheeks. She was still sitting there an hour later when her husband came home. He called for her as he came in the front door, then appeared in the kitchen with a worried look on his face.

“Elizabeth? Why didn’t you answer? Have you heard something?”

Elizabeth looked up as John stopped beside her, his warm hand on her shoulder. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I have heard something. Lynne’s all right.”

John sat heavily in the nearest chair. “Oh, thank God! Where is she?”

Elizabeth turned the PADD toward him, her sense of wonder making her feel a little lightheaded.

“She’s in the stars.”

 

 

~ fin ~

 

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