A BEGINNING, A MIDDLE, AND A PROPER END
The Journey (con'd)
[one] [two] [three] [four] [five]
"Human Error"
SEVEN: I've been conducting simulations to explore different aspects of my humanity.
DOCTOR: Such as?
SEVEN: Social activities, friendships with the crew-- Intimate relations.
DOCTOR: I take it our first officer is your--romantic interest?
SEVEN: Commander Chakotay seemed like an appropriate choice. He has many admirable qualities.
DOCTOR: So he does. What prompted all this?
SEVEN: Unimatrix Zero. I've been trying to recreate some of the experiences I had there. Ever since it was destroyed, my life has seemed--incomplete. I wanted to feel those emotions again.
...
CHAKOTAY: Where's the fire?
SEVEN: Fire?
CHAKOTAY: You seem to be in a hurry.
SEVEN: I have to finish my report on the subspace warhead.
CHAKOTAY: The ship's out of danger thanks to you. You've earned a break. Why don't you join me in the mess hall? Neelix is going to give a cooking lesson: Talaxian Tenderloin in Ten Minutes.
SEVEN: I'm no longer interested in cooking.
CHAKOTAY: Then come for the company. B'Elanna's going to be there; Tuvok even promised to show up. It'll be fun.
SEVEN: I appreciate your offer. Another time, perhaps.
CHAKOTAY: You know, you should try socializing with the crew a little more. Might do you some good--
********************
"Q2"
YOUNG Q: I like you, Aunt Kathy. You've got gumption.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Come in."
"Good morning, Aunt Kathy!"
Janeway started so violently that she splashed coffee all over her desk--but it was only Chakotay with a sensor report. "Don't do that! I thought they'd come back."
"They will," he said with good cheer, helping her blot up the mess with the napkins he'd grabbed from her table.
She rolled her eyes. "Two of them! 'Mate with your own kind,' I said-- Not one of my better ideas."
"Better than the alternative." His voice deepened suggestively. "Or are you regretting lost opportunity?"
"Very funny. One of these days I'll probably find both of them in my bathtub." His eyebrows climbed. "Maybe I did say no too quickly. I could have held out for some Q powers--just one or two little tricks--" She laughed and flung wide her arms. "Oh well!"
He tossed the soggy napkins into the recycler. "How about a game of velocity before you get bogged down in that report? I've got a couple of hours off."
Very slightly, perhaps so slightly that no one besides himself would notice, her entire demeanor cooled, the sudden change still jarring even though he had learned in recent weeks to expect it. "Sorry, but I don't. I promised Icheb and Naomi I'd get to their papers today."
"All work and no play makes Kathryn a dull captain, you know. Come on, take a break. The advantage of being on call twenty-four hours a day is that people expect you to take time off whenever you can get it. Grade their papers after a game--you'll still have time, and a clearer head."
"Do you have any idea how, um, thorough Icheb's papers are?"
"I've graded a few myself, remember. He wrote sixty-seven chapters on the Maquis and taught me a few things I bet even our senior commanders didn't know. Kathryn--"
"Sorry. Not today."
That faint closing off of her expression, that almost imperceptible loss of inflection in her voice, meant don't push. He'd been right: she wasn't really back yet, not to him--and the barrier to which they had danced close for so many years was now hardly in sight. Would it ever reappear? Or was that delicate balance of feelings between them irrevocably altered? Each time they turned to someone else they let go a little more of each other; she hardly needed him to be a "lover" now.
"Okay. Maybe tomorrow, then--or you can just let me know. I'll be back on the bridge at 1600." The doors closed behind him.
Janeway sighed, with both regret and relief. He'd given her one of those half-winks that said, Whatever you need, but she knew he wouldn't issue any more invitations for a while, for velocity games or dinners or woodland walks, and she was glad of it. Or you can just let me know-- The Captain was unspoken, but implicit. She knew that this new distance between them--these redefined parameters, no matter that he would hate the phrase--was all her doing. She wasn't any happier about it than he was, but she could hardly help that it was difficult to be with him just now because he reminded her of Jaffen, and of leaving Jaffen, nor could she help that these particular circumstances had cheated her of her best friend's sympathetic ear. Just now her work was her therapy, the work that had been stolen from her and to which she had returned with a desperate need to convince herself that work was enough. Chakotay was also a reminder of those ambivalent feelings, that reminder perhaps even more poignant than the other. She simply had to keep him at arm's length, and she knew that he understood. His deliberate nonchalance told her, however, that this was one of those times when her expectations were unfair, but no personal relationship between a captain and a subordinate was ever fair, and he knew that as well as she did. There would be time, she told herself, to make it up to him.
"Probably the rest of our lives," she murmured aloud as she picked up the padd and began to read.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hold the lift!" Chakotay called out, and jogged the rest of the way to the waiting car. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Seven replied, and released the button.
"Holodeck two," he instructed the computer, then added, "I see you're dressed for velocity. Can I interest you in a game? If you aren't meeting someone else, that is."
"No, I will be playing against the computer, which is of course more challenging than any human opponent."
"Of course," he said, amused as always by her utter lack of tact. "Well, if you change your mind, you know where I'll be."
The doors swished open, but she did not immediately step out. "I have." At the questioning lift of his eyebrows she clarified, "Changed my mind. I accept your offer of a game."
"Great! After you." He fell into step beside her, close enough that their bare shoulders brushed. The contact seemed to make her uncomfortable, and she veered a little away. "May I ask why?"
"I recalled Captain Janeway's admonitions that sports are useful activities beyond their specific physical and mental demands."
"Oh?"
"Competitive situations can provide opportunities to learn more about oneself and others."
"I see." They had reached the control panel, and Chakotay called up the velocity program. "Then I'll have to keep my eyes open and my guard up, won't I?"
The computer beeped ready, and they stepped together through the doors.
********************
"Natural Law"
CHAKOTAY: Beautiful, isn't it?
SEVEN: A sensor analysis would have provided the necessary information.
CHAKOTAY: Just admiring the view.
SEVEN: The conference begins in less than an hour.
CHAKOTAY: There's always time for warp field dynamics, but you don't see natural beauty like this every day.
...
CHAKOTAY: Well, if we have to be stranded somewhere, you couldn't ask for a nicer place.
SEVEN: We wouldn't be stranded at all if you hadn't insisted on admiring the view.
...
CHAKOTAY: This is a beautiful blanket.
SEVEN: Take it if you like. I don't need it.
CHAKOTAY: If environmental systems ever go down, you might get cold.
[at the same time]: SEVEN: I-- CHAKOTAY: You know--
CHAKOTAY: You first.
SEVEN: Please--continue.
CHAKOTAY: In all the excitement, I never apologized.
SEVEN: For what?
CHAKOTAY: Causing you to miss that conference.
SEVEN: As a matter of fact, I--wanted to thank you for that.
CHAKOTAY: I thought you were angry.
SEVEN: I was. But you were right--warp mechanics can be studied any time. The Vintu, on the other hand--
CHAKOTAY: Something's still bothering you.
SEVEN: I'm concerned for their well-being.
CHAKOTAY: They know how to take care of themselves.
SEVEN: That's not what I mean. Members of the Ladosian expedition had the opportunity to scan my deflector modifications. In time they may find a way to duplicate our technology, and remove the barrier themselves.
CHAKOTAY: I suppose it's possible.
SEVEN: If I had never made those modifications--
CHAKOTAY: --we might still be stranded there. [she concedes with a nod] I don't know about you, but I'm glad to be back on Voyager.
SEVEN: As am I.
********************
"Endgame"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Will I see you at the concert?" Janeway asked.
Chakotay turned in the ready-room doorway. "Wouldn't miss it. Harry's promised some new songs."
"Save me a seat, would you? I might be a few minutes late--Tuvok and I have a security conference in an hour."
"Will do. When is Tuvok going to learn to like jazz?"
"Believe me, I keep trying--" She laughed, and dismissed him with a wave.
Later, dressing in his quarters, he reflected that it was odd to be planning to meet someone besides Kathryn for a concert and the subsequent party. He wasn't yet recovered from the surprise of Seven's invitation that morning, and the unexpected wrinkle to the evening made him self-conscious in a way he hadn't been before a social event in a very long time. He dithered for a few minutes over what to wear, his uniform or a suit, and decided on the suit. If Seven was practicing her social skills he should accompany her as her friend, not her commanding officer. He hadn't ever thought of her as a friend before their wilderness adventure, but getting stranded with someone, as he well knew, generally led to murder or mutual respect. Since then she'd been a great deal more cordial toward him, and far more willing to entertain his point of view. She'd actually smiled at him a few times. Even so, her overture had startled him so much that at first he could only stare, but he'd managed a quick "Sure--love to" just before her confusion turned into hurt. She'd smiled then, too, and said, quoting him, "It will be fun." And so it will, he thought now, or at least interesting.
For himself, he was just glad to have somewhere to go. It had taken the crew a while to regain their old social rhythms after Quarra, and concerts and parties had been few and far between. He hadn't had dinner with Kathryn in weeks, Neelix's resort holo-program wasn't the same without its garrulous host, and evenings at Sandrine's had become a chore, with the result that lately he had been spending more time alone than was his usual habit. Besides, if he was going to urge Seven to socialize, he had to be prepared to follow through when she nerved herself to make the effort. No doubt she'd asked him as the safest bet, knowing he would accept for precisely that reason, and also that he would be less likely than many of her other shipmates to be frightened off by the memory of her comically disastrous first date with Bill Chapman a couple of years before. He had always felt sorry for her that the whole ship knew about that incident. Lack of privacy was an inescapable problem on board Voyager, and being a private sort of person himself he could sympathize with her mortification. But Seven had learned a few more of the social niceties since then, and he felt pretty certain that he wouldn't end the evening with any souvenirs as extreme as Chapman's torn shoulder ligament. And anyway, this wasn't a date.
They'd agreed to meet at the concert early enough to get front-row seats, and it was after the third number that Kathryn, still in uniform, slipped into the seat on the aisle he had saved for her. She gave his knee a thank-you pat and beamed around him at Seven, who smiled in return, and at the intermission the three of them chatted enthusiastically about the new songs and praised any musician who came within earshot. For the second set Kathryn was claimed by Tom and B'Elanna and he didn't see her much for the remainder of the evening, but he could hardly be disappointed when he was blessed with such an intelligent and fascinating companion. Seven had obviously practiced initiating and sustaining conversations, her questions and comments about their respective duties and interests at first sounding rehearsed, but he made his responses as helpful as he could, trying to present her with still more topics to pursue if she chose, and as their talk progressed from their shared research on the Vintu to his own tribal customs, from the music they'd heard tonight to other favorite compositions and styles, it flowed more naturally and he began to forget that he was here primarily as her mentor. She had come a long way in the last year or so, had made great strides toward humanity, toward human-ness, even toward humaneness, compassion. She was learning to enjoy leisure, and admitted an appreciation of novels--though it didn't surprise him that she was most drawn to those that could teach her something about human nature and interactions, like a densely textured murder mystery, or the psychological dramas of Henry James or Dostoevsky. And while her interest in music would always have a mathematical dimension her response to it was also becoming more emotional; she could comment now on the beauty of a concerto as well as on its structure, and could like a symphony even if its compositional merits left something to be desired. She'd softened up especially since Quarra, as if she hadn't been entirely pleased by her designation as an efficiency monitor and was determined to live it down. Kathryn had been right to believe that she could be reclaimed--though he still didn't believe Kathryn had thought through or perhaps even recognized all the difficulties she had faced, they had all faced, in restoring Seven to her self. Would she ever be Annika again? he wondered. Or did too much Borg technology, knowledge, and experience remain?
He was actually sorry when her tolerance for the crowd and the noise and steady conversation began to thin, when her smiles became a little forced, her comments a little labored, her expression a little taut. "Well," he said, coming to her rescue, "I hate to ruin my reputation as a fun-loving party animal, but I have an early shift in the morning, and I'd really better call it a night."
She set aside her plate and glass. "As should I. It would be very foolish to allow fun to interfere with my duties. But I do not believe you are as tired as you profess to be."
"I'm exhausted--honestly. I swear I can hardly keep my eyes open."
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "The more humans insist, the less credible they seem."
"Okay, I give. But if I want to extend the evening I can always come back. It would be my pleasure to see you to your door--unless of course you're tired of me," he added with a grin.
"No, I assure you--I am not--" She took a quick breath. "That is very thoughtful of you--thank you." In the quiet corridor, most off-duty personnel having attended the concert, she relaxed more with every stride. "Is it not an old-fashioned custom for the man to escort the woman home?"
"Well, some old-fashioned customs never quite lose their charm."
"For the man, perhaps. Was there not usually an ulterior motive?"
He laughed. "Sometimes." Glancing sideways at her, he added, "I think you really are tired of me." He hung his head mournfully, but looked out from under his brow to gauge her reaction to his teasing.
Her eyes widened in alarm. "On the contrary-- That is--I would not want you to think-- The truth is--I must regenerate--"
And amid her protests and embarrassment and resentment of what she considered a weakness--never mind that she needed far less regeneration than humans needed sleep--another truth came to him. This had been a date. Seven of Nine had asked him on a date. With anyone else the possibility would at least have crossed his mind, but with Seven--? It hadn't even occurred to him, and he felt strangely apologetic and ashamed that that should be so. He had been on a date with Seven of Nine. He would have to consider how he felt about that.
While he was considering, he shifted back into his role as her solicitous commanding officer. "Seven, wouldn't you like some quarters of your own?"
Her quick smile was filled with surprised delight, whether in response to the question or the questioner, he wasn't certain. "I have been wondering whether I was entitled. It would require substantial modification--Captain Janeway might not approve."
"Of course she'll approve. You're a member of this crew--if you want your own quarters you should have them. If we can't modify regular quarters to accommodate your alcove we can at least build some walls in the cargo bay to give you some privacy."
"I appreciate your concern." Her voice had softened as it usually did when she was feeling unsure of herself. "I wonder-- Might we discuss available options before I approach the captain--perhaps over lunch tomorrow, if you are free?"
He hesitated. Now was the moment to pull away if he didn't want to encourage this--whatever Seven intended or hoped "this" to be. He knew all the reasons he should pull away, good sound reasons, and yet--Seven was isolated, too, and it wouldn't be the first time two lonely people got together and built a successful relationship. Seven wasn't in Starfleet, so she wasn't technically his subordinate. She was more a working passenger, a resident consultant, rather like Neelix and Kes had been--and less inclined to follow orders and procedures even than they. And she not only understood his commitments to his ship and his captain--she shared them.
Patiently, but not without a knowing anxiety, she was waiting for his response.
"Yes," he said, "I'm free."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CHAKOTAY: What's all this?
SEVEN: A picnic. According to my research, this is an appropriate third date.
CHAKOTAY: You didn't have to go to this much trouble.
SEVEN: If this makes you uncomfortable I could prepare a less elaborate meal.
CHAKOTAY: No no. Don't change a thing. This is--perfection.
...
SEVEN: I've been told that anticipation of the first kiss is often uncomfortable. I wanted to alleviate the tension.
CHAKOTAY: That was very considerate of you. What about the second kiss?
...
JANEWAY: . . . Now tell me what the hell is going on.
ADMIRAL JANEWAY: I've come to bring Voyager home.
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What in their future could have been so terrible that she was so determined, even compelled, to change it--to change the ending to Voyager's story that she had lived through? He knew that nothing he could say would persuade her from her chosen course--would persuade either of them--and so as he worked with her, with this woman he knew but did not know, talked with her about preparations, checked and double-checked systems and plans, conscious of Kathryn's eyes upon them now and then, he instead wished there were more time to get to know her, and at the same time wondered why, when everything was about to change, when everything she was would soon no longer exist. Maybe that was why, to preserve a memory of her future self that would never come to be--considerably older but still beautiful, graceful, and strong; harsher yet still wry, and always fascinating. What happened to me? he wanted to ask her. What happened to the Maquis, to Seven and me, to--us? It was only natural that he should feel an intense curiosity, but this Kathryn was not his Kathryn, and to talk about one with the other would feel, somehow, a betrayal. Besides, whatever this Kathryn had experienced and thought and felt his Kathryn would not, in the soon-to-be-changed circumstances of her life, experience or think or feel--so why ask, why bring it up, why remind either of them of old hurts that were safely healed?
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CHAKOTAY: Our chances would be good with one Kathryn Janeway on the bridge, but with two--? I'd bet on this ship any day. --If we do make it back to Earth, what are your plans?
SEVEN: I assume Starfleet will want to debrief me, and then I suppose I'll attempt to find a useful position somewhere. You?
CHAKOTAY: I don't know yet either. But wherever I end up, I'm going to make sure it's in transporter range of you.
...
JANEWAY: You got Voyager home, which means I will, too. If it takes a few more years then that's--
ADMIRAL JANEWAY: Seven of Nine is going to die.
JANEWAY: What--?
ADMIRAL JANEWAY: Three years from now, she'll be injured on an away mission. She'll make it back to Voyager, and die in the arms of her husband.
JANEWAY: Husband?
ADMIRAL JANEWAY: Chakotay. He'll never be the same after Seven's death, and neither will you.
...
SEVEN: . . . [M]y death would be a small price to pay for the destruction of the transwarp network.
ADMIRAL JANEWAY: . . . You're thinking that collapsing the network is an opportunity to atone for atrocities you participated in while you were a drone. It's time to let go of the past and start thinking about your future.
SEVEN: My future is insignificant compared to the lives of the people we'd be saving.
...
CHAKOTAY: What's wrong?
SEVEN: Nothing. I'm just--busy.
CHAKOTAY: I think I've gotten to know you a little better than that.
SEVEN: I'd prefer it if you didn't speak to me as though we're on intimate terms.
CHAKOTAY: We are on intimate terms!
SEVEN: Not anymore.
CHAKOTAY: What the hell is going on?
SEVEN: I've decided to alter the parameters of our relationship.
CHAKOTAY: You mind telling me why?
SEVEN: We both have dangerous occupations. It's possible one of us could be seriously injured, or worse. I believe it's best to avoid emotional attachments.
CHAKOTAY: Maybe you can just flip some Borg switch and shut down your emotions, but I can't.
SEVEN: I suggest you try. It will make things less difficult for you if any harm should come to me.
CHAKOTAY: Why are you suddenly so concerned about that? Is there something I should know?
SEVEN: The admiral suggested--that your feelings for me will cause you pain in the future. I can't allow that to happen.
CHAKOTAY: Seven--any relationship involves risk, and nobody can guarantee what's going to happen tomorrow, not even an admiral from the future. The only certainty is how we feel about each other here and now. If you think I'm going to let you end this because of what might happen, you need to get to know me a little better.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He looked calmer, more at ease, less walled-off. So did Seven--to her aging eyes, anyway. Did it really show, or was she just projecting into their demeanor and interaction her awareness of what was to come--what had been to come--damn temporal paradoxes and tenses! Was it so wrong to want to see the two people she loved most in the world happy together, to see them live? Chakotay would say it was, which was why she hadn't told him. She well remembered his stunned horror over his future self's actions in changing history to save Voyager. Too bad she couldn't have sought out that Chakotay. Weary and guilt-ridden, old in spirit if not in body--he would have gone along. But not this Chakotay, hers, in his stubborn, self-sacrificing prime--he would not be swayed by anything less than a military benefit bigger than all his philosophical objections. He would not be swayed even by two warrior women-- (Damn. Why did she have to think about New Earth now?) And how could she have forgotten how much in tune with him her younger self had been? Learning the fates of Seven, Chakotay, and even Tuvok hadn't influenced that younger self, not directly, though all the bad news from the future had inspired her to want to accomplish both objectives--and in the process she had put her older self back in touch with the woman she had once been, who had once almost loved the man she was now willingly sending into another woman's arms. Damn. Why did she have to keep thinking about New Earth? Even now, maybe especially now, the merest exchange of glances with him was enough to stir old memories, old feelings. Not for him, though, as far as she could tell. They'd had almost no time to talk, which was probably for the best. He'd regarded her with respect, and curiosity, and the kind of affection he would come--had come (Damn!)--to bestow on her--on Kathryn's--mother, and he'd gripped her hands and said, "It's been a pleasure, and an honor," as she started for the shuttle bay to prepare for her last away mission--but he hadn't asked her any personal questions, almost as if he knew he wouldn't like the answers she would give. On the other hand, perhaps it was simply that his relationship with Seven had progressed farther at this point than she realized. Or maybe, tending to live in the present as he did, he'd decided it just didn't matter, since everything was about to change.
Yes, thank God--it was all about to change.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
JANEWAY: We did it. . . .
ADMIRAL PARIS: [on screen] Welcome back. . . .
JANEWAY: It's good to be here. . . . Mr. Chakotay--the helm.
CHAKOTAY: Aye, Captain.
JANEWAY: Set a course--for home.
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