Author: Trek_in_Tandem

Archive: Only with permission, please.

Author’s Note: I’ve always been fascinated with how “Good Shepherd” so blatantly made Janeway into a Christ figure.  Depths to be plumbed, I thought, especially considering what’s sometimes referred to—inaccurately—as the captain’s martyr complex.  This story doesn’t begin to explore those possibilities as I would like, but it is a start.  On something.

 

Plot Synopsis of “Good Shepherd”

Seven of Nine’s efficiency report spurs Captain Janeway to take three junior members of her crew on an away mission into a T-cluster.  The Delta Flyer is damaged by a spatial fluctuation that turns out to be caused by a dark matter lifeform.  First contact does not go well and Janeway eventually fires into a radiogenic field in the hopes of causing a shock wave that will disable their attackers.  The Flyer takes more damage and Janeway is injured.

The Rod and the Staff

 

“I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”

Psalm 23:4, KJV

 

 

“But he that entereth in by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the porter openeth; and the sheep hear his voice: and he calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out. And when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him: for they know his voice.

 

“I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. . . . I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.  I am the good shepherd: the good shepherd giveth his life for the sheep. . . . I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. . . . and I lay down my life for the sheep.

 

“. . . . I lay down my life, that I might take it again.  No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself.  I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it again.”

From John 10, KJV

 

Three days had passed since Seven of Nine had located the Delta Flyer, dead in space, being slowly drawn into the gravity well of a gas giant, her crew unresponsive.  She’d listened from Astrometrics as the bridge crew tried to raise the Flyer, as Chakotay hailed them and, over and over again, Harry Kim reported no response.  Her human perceptions had performed their now familiar and detested trick on time, and the moments it took to achieve a range at which sensors could detect life signs had seemed endless.

 

This is my fault, she thought to herself, as she waited.  If the captain is dead, I am the cause.

 

Then there had been the silent tension coming over the comm line from the bridge as they moved into transporter range, the silence that seemed to be a weight on her chest, constricting her lungs, squeezing her heart until it ached.

 

When the doctor finally announced to the waiting bridge crew that he had the crew of the Flyer in sickbay, she’d found herself staring up at the speaker that relayed audio from the bridge—a most uncharacteristic, irrational action.  Time slowed again until the doctor reported that the crew—and their captain—were stable. 

 

It had been three days since she’d left her post and gone to sickbay, only to find the captain unconscious, her still form mostly blocked by Chakotay, who was already standing over her.  Seven had hovered indecisively by the door until Janeway had pushed herself up on the bed, gasping an order to the commander to report on her crew. 

 

Three days ago, Seven had quietly left sickbay before she was seen, and she hadn’t been back since.  She couldn’t bear to look on the captain weakened and injured because of her.  But today the captain had been released from the doctor’s care and had returned to duty.  Seven had noted this when she read the daily duty assignments the previous evening.  I must apologize, she’d thought to herself and had felt a hint of relief.  The captain has recovered and it will not hurt so much to see her.  Captain Janeway would forgive her, and these feelings of guilt and pain would go away.  The captain could make it so.

 

Now Seven straightened from her work in Astrometrics.  The scans she had launched could run without her.  She didn’t know what she would say to Janeway but she had to see her.  The computer told her the captain was in her ready room.  Seven determined that Janeway would most likely stop her work to speak with her if she went in person while she might schedule a later appointment if Seven called first.

 

On the bridge, Harry smiled at her.  Tuvok inclined his head as she stepped from the turbolift, and Chakotay discreetly wagged a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the ready room.  Seven crossed the bridge and didn’t waste any thought on wondering how he knew she wished to see the captain; she was too busy tamping down on an uneasy sensation rising in her stomach.  She pressed a fingertip to the keypad and waited for the door to open.

“Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows . . . he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.  All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

Isaiah 53: 4-6, KJV

 

Janeway was seated on the sofa under the windows, one knee crossed over the other, balancing a china cup and saucer on the top knee with one hand.  The other hand was resting on the back of the sofa, which had the effect of turning her body and opening her posture towards Tal Celes, who was sitting primly next to her with clasped hands resting in her lap.  Janeway was trying very hard to put Tal at ease, to provide as much sense of casualness as it’s possible for an ensign to have in the presence of her captain.

 

The computer signaled that someone was at the door.  Janeway lightly dropped her hand down onto Tal’s shoulder to dam the flood of words and called for the visitor to come.  Tal jerked a bit, and Janeway pretended not to notice.  Tal did stop talking.  The captain didn’t move her hand right away, hoping familiarity would take the edge off this nervousness, hoping Tal would come to realize the gesture had been friendly, not punitive.

 

The door opened at her command and Seven of Nine strode through, only to stop abruptly when her eyes scanned from the desk to find Janeway on the sofa with Tal.  Janeway felt frozen for a moment at the sight of Seven.  Numerous officers had already dropped by this morning, many with a good reason to which they’d clearly given a lot of thought but some to ask plainly how she was and tell her they were glad she was back.  She’d spent most of the morning in the ready room, in fact, receiving the steady visitors.  Seven was the last person she’d expected to see now.

 

She’d been thinking a lot about this particular charge of hers the last 24 hours.  Seven hadn’t come to visit her while she was in sickbay, and she’d found herself more and more bothered by that as time passed.  She’d told herself she was being ridiculous, that Seven knew she was fine.  The former Borg probably didn’t find a personal visit to verify it necessary.  Janeway had reminded herself that she’d long ago promised to accept Seven as she was and that the young woman’s pragmatic approach didn’t mean she didn’t care. 

 

She had asked herself why, knowing all this, she still kept waiting for Seven to come.

 

She had gone so far as to suggest to herself that perhaps Seven had wanted to see her but had resisted the impulse because she deemed it inefficient or illogical.  But even Tuvok had come.  Not out of some need to see her safe, she was sure, but out of respect for their friendship and as a kindness.  He knew her well enough to know just how frustrated she would be by her confinement, how much she would appreciate company.  Didn’t Seven?  The thought that Seven didn’t know her disturbed her even more. 

 

So Janeway had kept waiting for her to arrive.  Eventually, every time the doors opened, she’d looked up, looked for Seven.  Whether it was actually expectation she’d felt in those moments or mere hope, she wasn’t quite sure.  But she did know what she felt when Seven never came: She was hurt.  For some reason, it troubled her that Seven of Nine hadn’t come to visit her captain.  Her friend.  Why was she so disappointed that she hadn’t?  Her quick mind, spurred on by her inactivity, had started to analyze itself.  And if she still didn’t know why Seven hadn’t come, she had at least figured out why this seeming slight had hurt.

 

Now, her first thought upon seeing Seven was Why?   She quickly pushed that aside.  She wondered if Seven was here now to point out that she’d been right to caution against the away mission into the T-Cluster. 

 

“Seven,” she greeted.  She moved her hand from Tal’s shoulder as she leaned forward to place her cup on the table.  She ignored the sound of the Bajoran exhaling shakily as she shored up her smile and turned it on Seven.  “Good morning.”

 

“Captain.”  Seven drew her hands behind her back before continuing.  “I didn’t realize you were busy.”  She nodded to Tal in what might have been greeting.

 

“Quite all right.”  She rose to indicate she was available for business.  “Just a coffee break.  What can I do for you?”   Now Janeway noticed Seven’s discomfort, and, assuming it was because of the perceived social gaffe, she stepped down from the sitting area, moving towards Seven in her desire to reassure.

 

Seven hesitated before replying.  She didn’t want to broach her thoughts in front of Tal.  “I would like to speak with you,” she finally said, “when you are free.”

 

So I am to be corrected.  At least we’re doing this privately today. 

 

Tal was already on her feet and Seven turned a curious eye on her as she rushed down the steps from the upper level.  “Please go ahead, Seven. I should be going.  I was just about to.” 

 

She was almost to the door and Janeway, too, was now regarding her curiously.  The young woman hadn’t shown any signs of leaving a moment before. 

 

Now Tal drew herself up to attention and turned to focus just above Janeway’s right shoulder.  “Thank you for the coffee, Captain, and, uh, the talk.” 

 

Janeway hid a sigh as she considered that Tal probably had been dying to leave since the moment she’d arrived.  “Thank you for joining me, Celes.”  She inclined her head in lieu of the formal dismissal Tal was clearly expecting and watched as the young woman practically bolted.  She’d wanted their talk to be casual.  Damn.  She shook her head before looking up at Seven.  Time to exchange one kind of problem for another. 

 

Seven was still looking after Tal with an odd expression on her face.  Janeway noted how adorable Seven looked when she was puzzled and quickly decided she preferred a captain’s problems to her newest one.  She didn’t mask her sigh this time.  “Well, Seven, I think you just gave Ensign Tal a reprieve.”

 

“Captain?”

 

Janeway waved it away with her hand as she turned and went to retrieve her coffee.

 

“Was Tal being disciplined?” Seven asked, following as far as the railing and looking up at her captain.  She saw with relief that Janeway looked fit. 

 

“No, no.”  Janeway took a long drink from her cup.  “I was just trying to help her feel more a part of this crew.”

 

Seven accepted this in silence.  Janeway set her cup down and smoothed her hands over her uniform.  “Seven?” she prodded.  “Did you need me?”

 

“I—” Seven was jolted by the question.  “No.  Yes.”  Janeway’s forehead creased and Seven hastened to explain herself.  “It is not ship’s business.”

 

Janeway felt her mood lifting.  Have you come at last just to see me?  “Then let’s sit here over coffee,” she said jovially, with a grand gesture at the sofa.  She quickly held up a hand.  “I know.  You don’t want coffee.”  She smiled.  “And you don’t have to sit.  Can I get you something else?”  This time she gestured to the replicator.

 

“No, thank you,” Seven said distractedly as she moved around the rail.  Janeway recognized the automatic response and the distracted air, felt pride that Seven was polite out of habit, felt concern that Seven was troubled, decided to be patient, and sat herself down on the sofa, only to be surprised when Seven joined her.

 

When several minutes had passed in silence, Janeway marking them each as she sipped her coffee, she decided patience was perhaps not the best strategy.  She put her cup down.  “Is something bothering you, Seven?”

 

Seven looked up from her contemplation of her entwined hands.  Janeway, too, had been watching her fingers fidget—most unusual—and growing more concerned.  Seven had been trying to convince herself that Janeway was indeed healthy and whole so she could get on to the matter of wording her apology.  Now she simply blurted, “Are you well?”

 

Janeway nodded and had to swallow hard before she could reply.  The fear and concern in Seven’s voice tightened her own throat.  She had longed to hear a hint of that concern for three days but never this much and never this fear.  She reached out to touch Seven comfortingly as she could not find her voice. Her touch seemed to affect Seven as much as it had Tal earlier.  The woman didn’t jerk; her whole body shifted towards Janeway. 

 

Janeway’s hand on her knee had shattered the thin veneer of Seven’s composure.  She abruptly clutched the hand in both of hers, drawing it close to her chest.  She dropped her eyes as she spoke, focusing on how the captain’s smaller hand was hidden in hers.

 

“I myself heard the doctor tell Commander Chakotay that all of you were stable three days ago.” The words tumbled out in startling contrast to Seven’s usual modulated way of speaking.  “The doctor has released you now, and I know he wouldn’t have done so if you were not well, and even though I now see you for myself, see you as you always are, the evidence does not seem to be enough.”

 

Janeway squeezed Seven’s hand as best she could while Seven was gripping her own so fiercely.  “It’s all right,” she managed, and her voice sounded choked to her own ear, as if she hadn’t spoken in a long while, or as if she’d been crying.  She cleared her throat.  “I am.”

 

Seven met her eyes for the briefest moment, then looked away.  “I have been so worried,” she said softly.

 

“There’s no need—” Janeway began, but Seven was continuing.

 

“So frightened—”

 

“Seven,” she interjected, lifting Seven’s chin gently with the fingertips of her free hand.  “Seven.” 

 

“So sorry,” Seven spoke over her, obediently looking into the captain’s eyes.

 

Janeway’s mind reeled.  She was happy to know Seven did indeed care, grieved to find her so upset, and now confused by her final words.  She studied the eyes focused so intently on her own.  “What did you have to be sorry about?”

 

“My report.”  Seven gathered herself a little in the need to express her reasoning.  “Because of me, you took the three most ill-prepared individuals aboard on an away mission.  A mission that proved dangerous, nearly fatal.  I should have briefed you more adequately on Tal’s deficiencies.”  Janeway tried to interrupt, but she rushed to finish before the captain could speak.  “Captain, I apologize.  It is inadequate, these words, but—”

 

“Listen to me, Seven.”   Janeway dared a small smile.  Seven was terribly upset, yes, but she saw the flaw in her reasoning and felt she could correct it.  Janeway drew the fingers that rested under Seven’s chin up over her face, thumb settling beneath her jaw, to cradle her cheek in her palm for a moment.  “Your apology, were it warranted, is more than adequate, but it’s not needed, because I did not take Herron and Tal and Telfer on that mission because of you.  Your report revealed to me a situation I should have been aware of already, a situation I should never have let develop.”  Janeway stifled the guilt that rose up.  Later.  “I have you to thank for that, Seven.  I am very grateful.  I meant to tell you before—”

 

“Grateful?” Seven demanded.  “You were almost killed.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Janeway said ruefully.  “But the point is that bringing these people I had neglected into the fold was something I had to do.  As a captain, that was my responsibility.  You understand that, don’t you?”  Seven gave a nod.  “And I am grateful to you for bringing what I’d let fall to the wayside to my attention.”

 

Seven released her grip on Janeway and folded her hands in her lap again.  “But your effort to remedy the situation put you all in jeopardy, Captain.”  Seven’s tone grew pained.  “What you have said does not negate my culpability in that.”

 

Her hand having been dropped unceremoniously onto Seven’s knee suddenly made Janeway feel awkward.  She withdrew, physically and otherwise. 

 

“Your culpability?”  Janeway said this a bit coldly as she regarded Seven from all the suddenly enforced distance of her command.  So you’ve come to me for absolution, have you.

 

It was true that Seven’s report had led to her little plan.  She believed that, without it, she would have continued unaware of her floundering crewmen.  Unacceptable, she thought, but she cut off that line of thinking again in favor of dealing with Seven’s feelings.  Seven’s report had led to her decision, but the consequences of that little foray into the wilderness were not Seven’s fault and she couldn’t allow her to blame herself.  She accepted with only a momentary regret the necessity of drawing away, of distancing herself in order to provide what Seven needed: the captain.  The stole of authority dropped into place and, receiving it, she squared her shoulders. 

 

“Seven, the way I choose to go about reaching these people is my concern,” she said firmly.  “You may not like my choices, but the fact remains that I am the captain and they are mine to make.” 

 

Seven stiffened.  “Yes, Captain.”

 

Janeway softened.  “You have no reason to feel guilty.” 

 

Seven lowered her head.  There.  The captain’s words had relieved her of the burden.  She waited for her chaotic feelings to subside, but they did not.  “But I do,” she whispered.  “I feel remorse, regret.  I wish that I had never brought those three individuals to your attention.”

 

Janeway sighed.  So much for the captainly façade.  Projecting the command aura wasn’t working.  She seemed to feel herself shrink until she was tiny in the face of Seven’s pain.  She was weak and tired, powerless to protect her charges from enemies external and internal, but she pressed on.  “Seven, you feel these things because you’re human.  But you can’t let these feelings overwhelm you.  You have to accept that actions have unforeseen consequences.  You have to accept that you can’t always control those consequences, and you have to accept that other people make their own choices.  Try to take comfort in the fact that we are all fine.”

 

“But you were hurt.  You could have died because of me.” 

 

“I didn’t, and if I had, it would not have been because of you,” Janeway countered, ignoring the personal angle of Seven’s words as she wrapped herself again in the vestments of command.  “As captain, I—”

 

“You shouldn’t have risked yourself that way.  You are vital—” To me, she’d almost said.  “To this ship. You should have found another way.”  Seven looked up as she spoke and her eyes held more accusation than her voice. 

 

Janeway was almost relieved to see Seven recover enough to muster that tone of disdain for the way she went about running her ship.  The captain assumed she was about to be back on more familiar ground.  Seven would now wait for her reply; then, whatever she said next, Seven would proceed to point out exactly what she’d done wrong and how.  As she braced herself to confront this, she failed to recognize Seven’s fear for her safety behind the charge.  She heard only her own rebukes in this woman’s voice.

 

“That’s right, but I didn’t.  Because I didn’t know the consequences of the decision I made.  Because I can’t control everything, either.”  Janeway’s voice grew harsh, and Seven looked away again, dismayed to have caused the rawness she heard.  “I made the decision I thought was best with the information I had.  They needed me and I did the best I could for them.”  Janeway took a deep breath.  This was not a topic she could discuss with ease, but, for this woman, she’d do it.  “That’s all I can do, Seven, for any of my crew.”  After a pause for the sake of her control, she continued, in a tone gone low and tremulous.  “I came after you once.”

 

Seven looked up and met her gaze, and it was a gaze hard to meet.  Janeway’s eyes were wet.  “It was more than once,” she said finally.

 

The captain had been thinking about the Collective the previous year.  What was Seven thinking of?  The shuttle when Seven’s alcove malfunctioned a few months ago?  The angry drone more than two years earlier?    Janeway swallowed.  “I took a risk,” she said softly, continuing slowly.  “With the knowledge I had, I made the best call I could make, and I judged the risk to be worth it, because of what I—because of what could be gained.  I never regretted the choice.”

 

“You always found me,” Seven said.

 

To Janeway, their words were now suddenly layered.  Had Seven done that?  Had she meant to?  Janeway simply nodded.  She had a point to make.  “But if I hadn’t, I still would have believed I’d done the right thing.  The smallest chance to bring you home had to be taken.”  She touched Seven’s hand once, briefly.

 

Seven wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, and her emotions were overcoming rational thought.  Janeway went on and Seven was grateful for it.  “I think, just maybe, this time, too, I’ve found what I’d lost.”  She slapped her thighs and stood.  “Or at least made a start.”  She reached for her coffee, reminding herself not to expect results immediately, and waited to see what Seven would say. 

 

“Then I am pleased for you, Captain,” Seven said finally.

 

Janeway smiled into her cup.  “We have you to thank for bringing my oversight to light, Seven.”  She paced around the table and back again, returned her coffee to the table.  “I hope you won’t castigate yourself for a few minor bumps along the way. 

 

“Are you feeling better about all this?”

 

Seven considered and was surprised to find that she was.  She briefly evaluated Janeway’s arguments and found that they did have some merit.  But she determined that simply speaking to the captain had improved her outlook more than her actual words.  Although remembering what Janeway had said about her gave her an inexplicable sense of security and contentment. 

 

Janeway discreetly watched Seven’s face as she took her seat again, waiting for a reply, hoping it would be positive. 

 

Seven looked back to Janeway and her throat tightened, making her swallow convulsively.  The captain is fine.  And, for the first time, she really believed it.  The relief left her feeling weak and she sagged.  Her thoughts might as well have been written on her face for Janeway to read.  Fear . . . guilt.  These irrational human emotions, incapacitating.

 

Janeway smiled crookedly, her relief as great as Seven’s.  You’ll be okay, but you’re so shaken . . .  Her instinct was to hug Seven, but she had never hugged her before, and she didn’t hug her now, worried doing so would only make Seven uncomfortable.  She just put her arm around her shoulders.   This is all I have left, she apologized silently, as she curled her hand around Seven’s right shoulder.

 

She was surprised when, instead of pulling away, Seven turned her body into her own, ducking her head.  Janeway’s left arm came up automatically to enfold Seven.  And so, this, after all . . .

 

She straightened until she could tuck Seven’s head against her shoulder and she let her face rest against the top of her head.  A fragment of verse from the parable she’d told Seven four days ago drifted across her mind and she murmured it aloud.  “Does he not leave the ninety and nine and go into the mountains and seek that which is gone astray?[1]  And if he find it . . .”  Her breath ruffled the fine wisps of hair near Seven’s ear.  “He rejoices more of that one . . .”   That one.

 

“Captain?”  Seven raised her face. 

 

“Ah, nothing,” Janeway muttered.  She regretted having to lift her head from Seven’s and let her hand slip away as the woman moved.

 

“Your shepherd?”

 

Janeway ducked her head in agreement, an almost abashed smile playing at her lips. “Yes.”  She didn’t want to get into a discussion of ancient human religious metaphors at the moment.  She’d been waiting for Seven, and, now, part of her felt as if she’d found her.  She’d lost sight of her earlier revelation, that Seven cared, in her own concern for the young woman and, then, in anticipation of the argument that had never quite materialized.  Now the knowledge was a solid thing in her chest, but she still wondered why Seven hadn’t visited her in sickbay.  She couldn’t resist voicing the relentless question, but she did it carefully.  “Seven,” she said lightly, “If you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

 

Seven straightened and Janeway loosened her hold a little more.  Seven shifted away slowly.  Picking up on her reluctance, Janeway happily left one arm around her.  “I wanted to.  I—but after I saw you in sickbay, hurt, and it was because of me—” Seven broke off, looked down.

 

Janeway patted her back soothingly and thought about this.  “You were there?  I didn’t see you.”

 

“You were unconscious.  And when you woke, Chakotay was standing in front of you and you were concerned for the others.”

 

“What?  That first day?”  You were there before I even woke?  Janeway felt her heart lift.   Seven does care, she reminded herself.  Seven, it seemed, cared very much.  Janeway put a fingertip under her chin and Seven obligingly raised her face without more urging.  “Hey.  Next time I’m in sickbay, will you stay long enough for me to see you?”  She lightened her tone and added, “I get bored when the doctor won’t let me do anything.  A visit from a friend makes it easier.  Come talk to me?”

 

Seven nodded.  “I will.  But, please, avoid it if you can.”

 

“Oh, I will.”  Janeway laughed, but sobered quickly.  “I promise.”  Seven inclined her head with a slight smile and Janeway smiled back.  She’d helped Seven, but she still had her new understanding of her own feelings to deal with.  Feelings that were only complicated by the hint she’d just had of Seven’s own.  Her smile turned wry.  Always something. 

 

She sat quietly for a few moments, giving Seven a chance to voice any other concerns.  When nothing was forthcoming, she stood.  “I haven’t gotten anything done today.”  She turned and looked down at Seven.  “You do know, don’t you, that when I’m not on duty, Chakotay saves up all the reports until I get back?”

 

Seven stood and arched her brow.  “You insist upon it,” she said.

 

Janeway laughed at having her joke co-opted.  “That is not the point.”  She put her hand on Seven’s back and they descended to the lower level together, where Janeway paused.  “I believe we missed our scheduled velocity game yesterday, Seven.”  She looked up into Seven’s eyes and let herself enjoy the slight giddiness she felt.  “Let’s reschedule?”

 

Seven nodded.  “I’d like that.”

 

“Good!”  Janeway resumed walking towards the door.  “So would I.  Oh, and Seven?  I’m glad you came to me today.”

 

Seven turned to her briefly.  “As am I.  Thank you, Captain.”  Janeway smiled after her as she left.

“I am the door: by me if any man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, and find pasture. . . . I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.  I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. . . . and I lay down my life for the sheep.”

John 10: 9, 14-15, KJV

Tal Celes drooped as the ready room door slid shut behind her.  She heaved a relieved sigh and blushed as the senior officers on duty turned to look at her.  She smiled nervously, barely resisted the urge to wave, and scurried to the turbolift. 

 

Prophets!  She paced around the confines of the turbolift a few times before remembering to give it a destination.  As it began to move, she tried to relax.  Easy, Celes.

 

You just had coffee with the captain.

 

No big deal.

 

Right. 

 

Tal had gotten off shift that morning and found a message from the captain waiting.  “Celes, if you’re free, I’d like it if you stopped by my ready room sometime today.  We could continue the talk we started on the Flyer.”

 

Celes had showered, put on a fresh uniform, arranged her hair three different times, and gone to the ready room.

 

“Celes!  You’re very prompt.”  An unrestrained laugh that made her spine tingle.  “Thanks for coming.  How’re you doing?”

 

I never heard her laugh before . . .

 

Wow.

 

The captain had taken her to the sofa and then sat beside her.  “We were interrupted before . . .” And she’d waved her hand dismissively as if space and its many pitfalls were a naughty two-year-old showing off for company.  To her, it probably is.

 

Tal had been in awe of Janeway from the first time she read the captain’s service record after receiving her assignment to Voyager.  Imagine one woman and all those accomplishments.  Then she’d seen the captain in person, and the brief glimpses of the real thing had made the record seem inevitable.  In person, the captain was a force.  Vibrant, dynamic.  Her presence filled a room and moved over everyone in it, made Tal feel that nothing could touch her while she was under this woman’s command.  In life, the captain was larger than life.  Then they were pulled into the Delta Quadrant and it was as if the captain was one of the Prophets incarnate.  Whatever happened, she always pulled them through.  Tal listened to the stories cycled through Voyager’s gossip mill and marveled.  Kathryn Janeway wasn’t afraid of anything.  Not Vidiians or Hirogen or Borg or 8472.  Certainly not algorithms.  There was nothing Captain Janeway couldn’t do.  No sacrifice she wouldn’t demand of herself on their behalf.  Tal listened to the reports of the captain and fell in love.

 

Tal wanted to be a woman like this woman.   She longed for a chance to get her attention, to impress her, to earn her esteem.  When reality intruded into her daydreams, she drowned in hopelessness.  The only way I’ll get the captain’s attention is with my latest fuck-up.  But still she longed for it, to somehow be close to the captain, to have a connection with her.  A few times, assigned to Engineering, she’d seen the captain work with Lieutenant Torres.  The others sometimes stopped their own work to watch the two of them, fingers flying over consoles, heads together, voices overlapping.  Once, Torres had suddenly aborted her latest calculations and started explaining a new idea to the captain.  The captain had turned to a console and run new, successful calculations by the time the chief finished her sentence, and the crew that had gathered around them had burst out in cheers and applause.

 

Tal had imagined what it would be like to work side-by-side with the captain like that, to solve problems together.  To think on the same level, finish each other’s sentences.  And then the captain had walked into the mess hall, tossing off the solution to her latest problem, and assigned her to an away mission.  An away mission with her.  Not just anyone got to go on away missions with the captain.

 

“You are a part of this crew, Celes.”

 

Tal had tried so hard to connect with her during the mission, but she’d only bumbled everything and wound up feeling stupid.  She knew the captain had to think she was a fool.  But then, without even trying, she’d had a real conversation with Janeway.  The captain had listened to her.  She hadn’t laughed when Tal told her about the monsters in her nightmares.  And now, three days later she was still concerned about Crewman Tal and her little problems, though surely she had more important things to concern herself with now they were back on Voyager.  But the captain was serving her coffee, giving her valuable time to Celes alone, speaking in this intimate tone Tal had never even imagined.  It was as if nothing was more important to her at that moment than Tal Celes.

 

“You demonstrated your value admirably when we ran into trouble.  Original thinking, real initiative . . . The phrases were still running through Tal’s mind.

 

She had known that the captain’s face seemed sculpted, so perfect were her nose and mouth, cheeks and chin, that her hands were steady and sure, her fingers long and slender, the tendons elegantly defined beneath translucent skin.  But she had never seen them curl around a cup, that lazy confidence making even such a simple act a thing of distinction.  She’d never seen the eyes crinkle and shine when the captain smiled—and it was that smile, the rare, wide smile that transformed the usually serious face, which she was giving to Celes.  Tal found that she was stealing glimpses of the captain, taking in her fine features, the way her hair curled into her collar, the tiny motion of a finger tracing the rim of her cup, in tiny draughts, as if sipping human champagne.  Half-afraid of the tingle of bubbles, savoring every drop.

 

An ability to focus under pressure . . .

 

Loyalty . . . The look on the captain’s face had made Tal blush as she remembered her sudden impassioned speech about duty to captain.  She felt a shy pride.  I did something right.  The captain had looked so proud, so touched.  This time, I got it right.  Her expression had meant more to Tal than any compliments or commendation.

 

Original thinking, real initiative.

 

And there was a commendation.  A commendation for her first away mission entered into her record.  She felt full to bursting.  This is the best day . . .

 

Focus under pressure, loyalty.

 

The captain’s hand on her shoulder when the door chimed.  The throaty order to come.  Tal blushed.  Damn! What am I thinking?

 

Tal pressed her hands together fiercely as laughter bubbled up in her throat.  On impulse she tapped her communicator.

 

“Tal to Telfer.”  She took a calming breath and wrapped her arms around her waist.  She felt like she was about to float off the deck.

 

“Celes!  You’re still up?  The infrared algorithm again?  Why don’t we meet in the mess hall on my lunch break?”

 

“Billy!  Listen—”

 

“Yeah, I’m not even worried about alien food allergies anymore!  I’m gonna try Neelix’s—”

 

“Billy, listen to me for a minute!  It’s not the algorithm.  The captain called me to the ready room,” Tal breathed.

 

“Uh-oh.  Did Seven report you?  Don’t tell me you didn’t finish that analysis before we left.”

 

“I’m not in trouble, Billy.  The captain—” She stopped and blew her breath out through pursed lips.  The captain.  “Look, just meet me for lunch.  Can you come now?”  The turbolift doors opened.

 

“Now?” he demanded, but she cut him off before he could point out that he was on duty.

 

“This is important.  I’m waiting.”  She tapped her communicator to cut the connection as she stepped out of the ’lift.

“And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd.”

John 10: 16, KJV

 

By the end of her shift, Janeway’s gaiety was rather faded.  She’d tried going over the reports after Seven left, but she couldn’t concentrate.  Her thoughts had turned to Seven of Nine, mental fingers delicately prodding around the edges of her newly discovered feelings.  Finally, she’d given herself leave to think about it.  She thought of Seven’s unexpected loyalty to her and her crew.  She thought of how Seven had dared to trust her when everything that should have been solid in her life had fallen away, seemed a deception.  She replayed their words from that morning.  You always found me, Seven had told her.  What had she meant?  Did the exchange have as much resonance for her as it had for Janeway?

 

She resolutely did not think about the implications of falling in love with a member of her crew.  She avoided any thoughts related to whether Seven might return her feelings.  Since these things were the very ones that kept coming to mind where Seven was concerned, she was left few options for indulgence now that she’d opted to allow it.  When she found herself cataloguing what she found most endearing about her Astrometrics officer, she decided that if she wasn’t going to think about what she obviously needed to think about she should get on with the minor business of running the ship.  Determinedly, she spent a few hours on the bridge before devoting herself to catching up on reports. 

 

Chakotay came in at shift change—making sure she wasn’t over-doing it she was sure.  She paused to have a much-needed cup of coffee with him.  She assured him she was nearly through the reports and would be going off-duty as soon as she finished.  He suggested the rest could wait, at least until after dinner.  She kicked him out, laughing. 

 

Now she signed off on the final report, swearing that next time the doctor had her cooling her heels in sickbay she’d insist on doing the reports no matter how much he grumbled.  The thought reminded her of the promise she’d made to Seven—the promise Seven had extracted—that she would try to avoid the need to convalesce in sickbay.  It made her smile.  Maybe Seven would want that game tonight . . . .  Oh yes?  And where will you find the energy?

 

Janeway snorted and checked the time on her console.  I’ll just check on Harren before I call it a day, she decided, already rising from her desk.

 

She thought about their last conversation, the morning after Voyager had retrieved them.  She’d been discreetly watching Harren sulk and shoot looks her way for about an hour when he finally approached her bed, looking around to see if the doctor was about.

 

“Crewman.  Thinking about dark matter life forms?” 

 

He snorted.  “Among other things.”

 

“Well, Crewman Telfer’s a biologist.  Maybe the two of you can collaborate.  Come up with some new theories.”  She held up a finger.  “It’s not Schlezholt’s multiple big bangs, but the existence of dark matter life forms would cause quite a stir in the scientific community.  What else is on your mind?”

 

Harren seemed to consider whether to answer at all.  Finally, he said, “You were right.  I made a mistake.”

 

Janeway nodded once, keeping her face neutral.

 

“Okay, more than one.”

 

She nodded again.  “It happens.  Practical application is messy.  But you never thought otherwise.”

 

Harren sighed.  “What happens now?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Criminal charges, court martial,” he said, exasperated, “Imprisonment.”  He ticked them off on his fingers.

 

“Ahh.”  Janeway tilted her head back.  “Formal reprimand.”

 

“A reprimand?” he demanded.  “That’s all?”

 

She shrugged.  “I’ll be making a very detailed report on my decision to take three inexperienced officers on an away team, emphasis on my decision.  I’ll make a note of the extenuating circumstances.  You believed you were firing on a hostile alien, acting in defense of ship and crew.  I see no need for more than a reprimand.  Do you have a different theory on the matter?”

 

She didn’t miss the relief cross his face.

 

“I panicked,” he admitted.

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“And when I realized what I’d done . . .” He looked up and met her eyes.  “I ran away.”

 

She cocked her head.  “Did you?  I think you overcompensated for your first mistake.  You wanted to protect the rest of us.”  There was a pause.  “Didn’t you?”  Admit it.  “Your disdain for the rest of us doesn’t extend to indifference to our lives.”

 

He looked at her sharply, then lowered his eyes.  “There wasn’t time to think.”

 

“There rarely is in situations like that, Mr. Harren.  Next time, you’ll be better prepared to think on your feet.”

 

“Next time?”  His voice was filled with disbelief.

 

“Of course.  You know the saying about the horse, don’t you?  I took you into a situation that turned into something you were not prepared for.  I should have had more safeguards in place.  But you did well under the circumstances.  You rose to the challenge.  Your attitude needs work . . .” She grinned wryly.  “As does your response to orders, but you’re a valuable resource on Voyager, Mr. Harren.  I know it’s not what you had planned, but I need you.”  Harren looked a bit stunned.  “You are Starfleet.  Officer or enlisted, we all take the oath to serve.  Sometimes that means serving your shipmates.  Theoretician or not, I know you didn’t take that oath lightly.”  She raised her eyebrow questioningly.

 

He straightened, the closest to attention she’d ever seen him come.  “No, Captain.”

 

She smiled.  “On this ship, more than any other, we have to rely on each other.  I hope you’ll take that into consideration.”

 

“Yes, Captain.”  He was earnest now, surprisingly so. 

 

“Good.  Now about that project with Billy—”

 

The doctor came out of his office and spotted them.  “Crewman!  What are you doing out of bed?  You’re both supposed to be resting, Captain.  The entire crew will be parading through here to see you in another hour.  I agreed to allow visits of a certain length, but that only means it’s more important to rest now.”

 

“And we’ll be glad to see them, won’t we, Mr. Harren?”  He dipped his head, and she knew he took her point.  To the doctor she said, “We just needed to discuss a few things.  We’ve settled everything, now, haven’t we?”  She shot a sideways look at Harren, but turned back to the doctor and submitted as gracefully as she could manage.  “Harren will go quietly, Doctor.  No need to call security.” She caught Harren’s smile and found it well worth the Doctor’s disapproving look.  She was used to those, after all.

 

Now she asked the computer for Harren’s location.  A few minutes later, she found him in the mess hall.  It was a couple of hours into beta shift and Neelix had already served dinner for the alpha shift.  There were only a few people there at this hour.  Harren was seated at a table with several data padds spread over it.  Janeway found Neelix cleaning up in the kitchen and soon had a cup of coffee in hand.  She ambled over to Harren’s table.

 

“Mr. Harren,” Janeway said heartily.  “Any sign of Wang’s Achilles’ heel?”

 

Harren looked up from his padd, prepared to meet her disdain for his theories.  “Captain Janeway.”  He gave the title a little sneer for good measure.  Then he thought of what she’d said in sickbay a few days ago, how she’d taken the responsibility onto herself, and how seeing her do that had suddenly made him regret his words to her on the Flyer.  He’d sneered then, too.  He’d met her sincere effort to reach out with disdain.  He’d mocked her and her responsibility.  He’d dismissed her actions as stemming from a guilty conscious.  Then, in sickbay, when she shouldered the blame that should be his, he’d realized how close to home he’d hit without aiming.  What must it be like to be the one responsible, the one who could never, ever hide?  He’d never before thought of her as a person, just as the rank.  Certainly, she hadn’t signed up for this—not for this.  She’d said as much on the Flyer, though she hadn’t mentioned it again, not even when she’d alluded to his derailed plans in sickbay.  She’d probably had plans of some kind, too.  At least, she had to have expected a different life than the one she was living.  But she’d done her best for them, had kept them alive, had insisted on hope when he would have given up.  Yeah.  It would have beaten me.  I wouldn’t have been able to hide from it.  That deserved his respect, at least.  And instead he’d lashed out, probably inadvertently striking where it hurt most.

 

He remembered that realization now and felt the shame of it again, felt even worse because here he was, sneering at her again.  Expecting disdain and protecting himself by offering it first, but . . . She was never scornful, was she?   “You’re really interested, aren’t you?”

 

“Of course.  At the Academy, I didn’t know anyone who hadn’t at least taken a crack at Wang’s Second Postulate.”  She gave the phrase a grand spin.  “I used to toy with ways around it, nothing serious—sort of a stress relief around exam time.”  She chuckled and took the chair across from his.  “If you’ve found a new angle, I’d like to hear it.”

 

“Not really your area of expertise,” Harren said questioningly.  He selected a padd from the collection on the table and tapped in a few commands before handing it to her with a nod for her to examine it.  “Taking on compact halo objects as a sophomore?” He was impressed and he let it show a little.

 

“Everyone needs a break now and again,” she said lightly.  She tapped the padd against her palm.  “Thanks.”

 

“I read your papers.  Interesting.”  He’d only just looked into Janeway’s scientific career after their away mission.  When he was assigned to Voyager, he hadn’t cared about his commander’s scientific work.  Focused on his own work, eager to get his year in space out of the way, Voyager was a necessary delay, and her captain didn’t interest him.  Once he was assigned to Voyager, everyone who heard could do nothing but talk about Janeway and her rapid rise in the ’Fleet, her switch from science to command.  He’d tuned it out, annoyed.  What did he care for war heroes and captains?  If she was a scientist, what was she doing on the bridge of a starship?  Then on the away mission he’d seen her scientific prowess in action and she’d impressed him.  Now he’d realized his captain wasn’t just a rank, but a human being, and, more than that, she’d turned out to be a scientist, too.  A notable scientist.  I should have paid attention back then.  I’ve been stuck on the same ship with this woman all this time . . .

 

“High praise.”  She wrinkled her nose a bit as she smiled.  She meant it—coming from Harren it was more than she’d ever expected—and she was pleased, but she made a point to sound offhand about it.  She began scrolling through the contents of the padd.

 

“Deserved.”  He turned his attention back to his work, but she sensed the effort he was making.

 

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely this time.  They sat together in silence as Harren continued his work and Janeway began to seriously read what he’d given her.  If not exactly companionable, at least the silence was no longer hostile on Harren’s part.

“Tell me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makest thy flock to rest at noon: for why should I be as one that turneth aside by the flocks of thy companions?”

Song of Solomon, 1:7, KJV

 

Seven of Nine glanced over at the folded clothing stacked neatly on the edge of the dais beneath the main screen.  Her lips twitched at the sight of her athletic garment, but she turned back to the data she was perusing.  This was the time when she would have been wondering, yet again, how Kathryn Janeway continued to defeat her at velocity.  Actually, by now, the captain probably would have distracted her from that persistent question with talk of other things.  The effort required to distract her had decreased exponentially in the last year.  Her continued inability to defeat the smaller, weaker woman did not even annoy her anymore.  Perhaps tonight she wouldn’t have even considered the question.  Had we played.  Seven made a small sound in her throat.  We haven’t played in five weeks.

 

The first unkept appointment was unavoidable.  The captain, after all, had been confined to sickbay recuperating from injuries sustained on an away mission.  Then the crew had been accused of defrauding the mining colony of Telsius Prime, which led to the realization that individuals were posing as members of Voyager’s crew and negotiating trade agreements they had no intention of upholding.  By the time the imposters were in the hands of local authorities and the stolen commodities returned to their rightful owners, they had both abandoned thoughts of rescheduling. 

 

Then Torres and Kim had gone missing during a routine away mission—Seven was really beginning to dislike that phrase as it was usually only employed when an away mission turned out to be quite other than routine.  For nearly two weeks, the crew had worked frantically to locate them.  During that time, Seven hadn’t even considered initiating a conversation with the captain unless it was on that matter.  The captain, she knew, thought of nothing else.  Leisure pursuits were certainly not a possibility.  Not that Seven herself had felt much like playing games.  Once Torres and Kim were retrieved, routine had returned, but the captain had been busier than usual.

 

To the considerable surprise of most of the crew, the captain had spent more time with Mortimer Harren in the last three weeks than Harren had, it was generally agreed, spent with anyone, other than his much-pitied roommate, in the last six years.  The surprise stemmed from the fact that they were apparently working together to disprove Schlezholt’s Theory, though many people continued to state that they could not believe Harren would agree to collaborate with anyone while obviously believing it nonetheless.  The only one who hadn’t expressed surprise over this partnership, in fact, was Tuvok.  The rest of the ship had been abuzz.  General consensus was that it had begun only a few days after the exploratory mission into the T-Cluster, shortly before Torres and Kim disappeared and normal activities had been suspended for a majority of the crew.  Once routine had been restored, the captain was frequently seen in the mess hall or one of the labs with Harren.

 

Yesterday morning, Janeway had stopped Seven as she was leaving the conference room and suggested a game after their shifts today.  Seven had agreed and she had brought the appropriate outfit with her this morning so she could go directly to the holodeck from Astrometrics.  Every time her eyes fell on it throughout the day, she’d felt a rush of anticipation and pleasure.  Now, its presence increased her irritation.  The captain had contacted her just before the end of the shift and apologetically informed her that she would not be able to make their scheduled game as she was meeting with Tal Celes and would be doing so longer than expected.  Tal Celes.  Seven didn’t know what, exactly, was occupying the captain lately, but an annoying amount of her time seemed to be spent with Tal Celes.

 

Once Janeway had canceled, Seven had begun examining potential courses, but now she decided it was fruitless to continue working since she was unable to concentrate on the projections.  She saved her latest projection and collected the now unnecessary clothes.  She would, she decided, go to the mess hall and replicate a nutritional supplement.  It would be a poor substitute for the appealing beverages and snacks the captain usually suggested after a game, and that suited her mood perfectly.

“And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him.”

Luke 22:43, KJV

 

Kathryn Janeway was in a good mood, despite missing out on an evening with Seven of Nine, which she had been eagerly awaiting for two days.  In recent weeks—since realizing how she felt for her, in fact—she’d hardly seen the woman, and when she had, it had been in the course of ship’s business, which hadn’t been too pleasant lately.  Crisis after crisis, topped with tragedy—well, that turned out all right.  Thank God.  She certainly hadn’t had the luxury of being with Seven and simply feeling, which was what she very much wanted to do.  She’d thought of her often, though.  When Harry and B’Elanna had been missing, Seven’s determination had encouraged her when her hope waned.  Her steadfastness had been an anchor, her composure a haven of calm in the maelstrom of emotion.  The night Chakotay had come to her with the distress call and it had seemed certain that Harry, if not B’Elanna, too, was dead—later that night she’d drifted around the ship until she ended up in Cargo Bay Two sometime in the early morning hours.  Feeling wrung out after a night of weeping, after so many days of false hopes and fear and sorrow, she’d watched Seven regenerate and found a brief moment of peace.  Seven, she’d realized numbly, was a source of strength.  It wasn’t something she’d been able to fully appreciate then, as emotionally overextended as she’d been, but she’d reflected on it many times since.

 

Once Harry and B’Elanna were home, Janeway had felt the need to focus on Harren and Celes, but finally, she had decided to indulge herself and that meant Seven of Nine.  Her appointment with Tal was her last hurdle before her reward.  She’d welcomed the girl happily because her arrival meant there was only one more hour left in her shift.  But then, when she’d meant to conclude the meeting, it had seemed Tal had begun to really grasp the principle Janeway had been repeating in various ways for the past hour.  Reluctantly, the captain had decided it was important to continue, and she’d excused herself to the ensuite and hailed Seven to explain.  Tal had indeed recognized the principle behind the algorithm and Janeway was in high spirits, though the sparkle of earlier, when the cause had been Seven, was missing.

 

Now she gazed out at the warped stars and let her mind wander as Tal studied some recent sensor data, making another go at interpreting it.  Celes was still eager to please her, but the nervousness had almost completely faded, much to Janeway’s relief.  She didn’t like her own people uneasy with her.  She much preferred to make people nervous only when it served her purposes, and except on the rare occasions she had to mete out discipline, she preferred to reserve that trick for potentially hostile aliens.

 

Now Tal straightened up from her work and Janeway didn’t miss the look Tal gave her before she turned from the window.  She had realized some time ago that Tal Celes had a crush on her captain.  She smiled and held out a hand for the padd.  As she looked over the deciphered data, she considered that she was enjoying Tal’s regard quite a bit.  How flattering it was to see herself through the adoring eyes of this bright young woman.  It had been a long time since anyone had stolen fleeting glances of her when they thought she was unaware.  This had combined with her new understanding of her feelings for Seven to make her more conscious of her physicality.  She felt energized, sensual, aware of her own body and its movements in a way she hadn’t been for ages.

 

She gave Tal a brilliant smile as she looked up from the data.  The interpretation was almost perfect.  Her congratulations called a pleased flush to Tal’s face and Janeway reveled in the reaction.  She took the time to point out the remaining errors, careful with Tal’s growing confidence in her work, before suggesting they call it a night.  She and Seven had missed their holodeck appointment, but maybe Seven would agree to have an early dinner instead.

 

Tal stood as Janeway did.  “Captain, I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner.  I feel like celebrating.”

 

The captain hid her surprise.  Tal had grown more poised in her presence, but this was brave.  Her evening was probably shot anyway—when she’d spoken with Seven earlier, she’d been informed that Seven herself had a lot of work to do in Astrometrics.  She probably wouldn’t want to stop now she’d started for something as inefficient as a meal.  And Janeway did have to eat.  Besides, it wouldn’t do not to reward the courage it must have taken Tal to ask.  Dinner with Tal would be a pale substitute for an evening with Seven, but another hour of her obvious appreciation would be undeniably more pleasant than eating alone. 

 

“I’d say a celebration is definitely in order,” she said, matching Tal’s enthusiasm.  “Let’s go.”

“By night on my bed I sought him whom my soul loveth: I sought him, but I found him not.”

Song of Solomon, 3:1, KJV

 

Seven had been glad to see Torres, Paris, and Kim in the mess hall.  She had been spending more time with them recently and she actually appreciated their company.  B’Elanna was rarely hostile these days and Tom and Harry always welcomed her.  She felt in need of distraction tonight.

 

“Hey, Seven,” Harry called when she entered.  “You got time to join us?”

 

“Indeed I have a surplus of time,” she replied dryly and took a seat.

 

“Good!”  Harry gestured to the clothing she had dropped onto the table.  “I thought maybe you were grabbing something on your way to the holodeck.”

 

“No,” Seven returned shortly.

 

Tom exchanged a look with B’Elanna.  “Those are your clothes for velocity right?  Did the captain win again?”  Tom’s tone was sympathetic.  “Where is she, anyway?”  He looked around as if he thought he might have overlooked her before.

 

“Let me guess!”  Torres jumped in.  “You finally beat her and she’s mourning her title.”

 

Seven might have smiled at this remark at another time.  She might even have been cheered by the three of them now, if not for the reminder of the canceled game.  Even now, she valued B’Elanna’s glee at the thought she’d finally triumphed.  Camaraderie, she thought.  The captain was correct when she urged me towards this.

 

“No, that doesn’t look like the face of someone who just wiped the floor with the resident champion,” Tom said lightly.  The question was implied and Seven decided she appreciated their interest and concern.  She told them about the scheduled game, the cancellation, and the reason for it.

 

“I am disappointed,” she admitted.

 

Tom and Harry commiserated over the lost holodeck time.  B’Elanna was quiet, thinking of the tone of Seven’s voice when she’d mentioned the reason for the delay.  Jealous Janeway has a new pet?  She chastised herself immediately for the uncharitable cast of her thoughts.  She hadn’t thought of Seven as Janeway’s pet Borg in a long time.  And Tom had told her how hard Seven had worked while she and Harry were lost, that she’d even tried to cheer him up when he was hitting bottom.  Seven was a part of them, now, and B’Elanna didn’t find her nearly as abrasive as she once had.  Seven was merely different, and she remembered what it felt like to be an outsider.  She recognized protective armor when she saw it, once she had bothered to look.  Seven’s aloofness and arrogance was like her own aggressiveness, like Tom’s self-deprecation and inappropriate humor.  The captain had always understood Seven, it seemed, and had been open to her when no one else was.  If Seven was feeling adrift because Janeway was too busy for her, it was understandable.  In the chaos her new life must seem, the captain was her security.  Her first friend, B’Elanna thought.  She considered how she would have felt right after they came aboard Voyager if Chakotay hadn’t had time for her.  And I was used to getting by alone.  Poor Seven.  B’Elanna jumped into the conversation with gusto, intent on helping Tom and Harry cheer Seven up.

 

Neelix came over and convinced Seven to try something freshly prepared instead of the supplement she’d been about to replicate when Harry had called her over.  He returned after a while to see how she liked her selection.

 

“Taste is irrelevant,” she told him with the smallest hint of humor.  Tom laughed.

 

“Ah.  I take it then that you don’t care for it.”  Neelix sounded disappointed, and Seven, mindful of her new friends’ feelings, remembered candor could sometimes be offensive and gentled the simple negative that was her first impulse.

 

“Preferences differ widely among individuals,” she told him, sounding rather like a database entry.  “While it is nutritious—and surely well-prepared—this is apparently not . . . my preference.”

 

Neelix rewarded her efforts with a wide smile.  “Well, Seven, I have a splendid idea!  Maybe you’d like to give it a try yourself, see if you can figure out just what you do prefer.”

 

She was about to ask him what it was she should try when her attention was caught by soft murmur that she knew immediately to be the captain’s voice.  Surprised, she looked over to see that Janeway had entered the mess hall with Tal Celes.  Neelix followed her gaze and excused himself to see to the captain, who was laughing as she and Tal crossed to the counter.  Seven thought she looked entirely too relaxed for someone who’d regretfully canceled her recreation in favor of work.

 

B’Elanna watched Seven watching the captain and tried to think of what words might comfort without making Seven feel exposed.  “Captain’s spending a lot of time with Tal, hm?” she said quietly under the conversation of the others.  That got a quick reaction.

 

Seven’s heard swiveled to her.  “It seems she has time for little else.”

 

B’Elanna admired the cool venom of the words and thought that it sounded a little too much like Janeway when she was angry for comfort.  Tom and Harry had tuned in to the new subject.

 

“I think she was really upset by that efficiency report last month,” Harry said reflectively.  “It seemed like she blamed herself.”

 

“She’s trying to reach them,” Tom agreed, casting a glance at the women who were listening to Neelix’s description of the dinner selections.  “It looks like she’s making progress.”

 

“I fail to see how having dinner with Tal aids her efficiency,” Seven said, her irritation growing as she watched Janeway put an arm around Tal’s shoulders.  “Tal takes up increasing amounts of Captain Janeway’s leisure time.”

 

“I thought leisure was irrelevant,” Tom teased, only to be rewarded with a glare for his efforts.  He held up his hands in surrender.  “I know.  She canceled your game to work and now she’s laughing it up with your personal problem child.”  He injected enough disapproval into his tone that Seven nodded in agreement.  “I’d be upset too,” he added.

 

“Seven, look,” B’Elanna said, leaning forward as she strove to connect with the woman across the table.  “Janeway’s just trying to make Celes feel like she belongs on Voyager.  She did that for me even though all I’d ever offered her was sarcasm and insubordination.   She did it for Tom.”  She looked to him for agreement and got a solemn nod.  “And I think she’s done it for you.  Right?”  When Seven inclined her head, B’Elanna went on.  “I know you miss your time with her, but the captain still cares about all of us, even if she is busy with Tal right now.”

 

Seven bristled at having these confusing feelings known and revealed, but she realized that Torres was concerned for her and she quickly decided that she didn’t mind that much after all.

 

“Celes is improving,” Harry offered.  “The personal attention helps.  She tries harder even when she thinks she’d can’t do something because she wants to please the captain.”

 

“And she finds that she can do it after all,” B’Elanna finished.

 

“Not to mention what the time with the captain is doing for her self-esteem,” Tom added.

 

“She’s having the time of her life,” Torres mused, having turned to regard the object of their conversation.  “What a crush she’s got!”

 

Seven could see the logic of all they said, even if she still didn’t like the situation.  She didn’t understand B’Elanna’s last remark, though.  “A crush?”

 

Torres nodded absently, still observing Tal and Janeway.  “Yeah.  Tal’s got a crush on the captain.  See?”  She made a small gesture with her fork in their direction.

 

Harry saw the signs of confusion on Seven’s face.  “B’Elanna means Celes is a little infatuated with her.  You know, romantically.”

 

“She’s got it bad,” Tom agreed.  “Look at the way she looks at Captain Janeway.”

 

Seven looked.  She saw that the captain and Tal had just collected trays from Neelix and were turning away from the counter.  Romantically infatuated?  The captain was speaking and Tal was focused intently on her face. 

 

“Hanging on every word,” Torres said.

 

“Wanna ask them to join us, Seven, or are you still mad?” 

 

Seven ignored Tom’s question as she stood up abruptly.  Something about the way Tal was reacting to the captain had disturbed her greatly.  She needed to be elsewhere, somewhere where Tal wasn’t giving Kathryn Janeway that adoring look.

 

“Excuse me,” she managed belatedly as she strode towards the door.

 

The captain spotted Seven headed her way and was happily surprised.  Maybe Seven would join them, even if she had already eaten.  She changed direction to intercept her.   “Hello, Seven,” Janeway said.  I’ve missed you, she thought suddenly as she watched Seven approach and stop.

 

“Captain.”  No, not stop.  Pause.  Seven continued out of the mess hall. 

 

Janeway reeled at the abrupt acknowledgement.  Is she angry?  Because I canceled?  Seven had never minded before when duty had interfered with their plans.  She accepted it as a part of life.  Why this time?  The captain considered that perhaps Seven was upset to find her in the mess hall instead of working as she believed her to be.  Does she think I was making excuses?  That I would ever not wish to be with her . . .  That Seven would think she’d do that pained her, but the idea that Seven might be hurt because of it pained her even more.  She watched Seven stalk away.  Angry.  Definitely. 

 

“Oh, let me know when you want that cooking lesson, Seven!” Neelix called after the swiftly departing woman, and this so surprised Janeway that she tore her eyes off Seven to look at the Talaxian.

 

“Cooking?” Janeway and Seven asked at the same time.  Janeway looked at Seven, who had paused and turned back.  Seven’s thoughts were so awash in confusion that she only just realized this was apparently what Neelix had meant earlier.  Cooking lesson?  What?

 

“Of course,” she managed.  “Thank you.”  Her eyes drifted away from Neelix to the captain and she stared for a moment before she turned on her heel and left the room.

 

Janeway looked after her, wondering why Seven had looked so confused for a moment.  If Neelix had just somehow coaxed her into cooking lessons, perhaps that explained it.  Or perhaps she only forgot about those because she’s so mad at me.  Janeway wanted to go after Seven and ask her what was wrong, explain about Tal’s invitation, confess that’d she’d really wanted to decline and convince Seven to join her for dinner, even if it meant prying her away from her work, but she hadn’t thought Seven would be willing and she hadn’t wanted to smash Celes’ fragile confidence by refusing her and . . .

 

She wanted to run after her.  Since when does Seven’s anger bother me so much?  The answer came quickly.  Since she stopped being angry with me all the time.  And this isn‘t about work . . . I must have hurt her feelings . . .

 

She smiled at whatever explanation Neelix had just finished giving her, though she hadn’t heard a word of it, and thanked him for the meal.  Celes was starting to seem a little awkward as she waited for Janeway, obviously expecting her to pick a table.  Stifling the urge to sigh, Janeway scanned the room and saw Tom, B’Elanna, and Harry at a table for six.  Seven had come from that direction.  She was sitting with them?  It was apparent she had been.  There was a hardly touched plate at the place next to Harry.  She was surprised Seven had left it behind.  Had something happened with them that caused Seven to leave?  Oh, no, Kathryn.  She is definitely upset with you. 

 

Janeway headed for her officers, knowing that wasn’t what Celes had in mind when she suggested dinner, but thinking that she wasn’t up to carrying a conversation on her own right now.  This could go unnoticed amid the chatter of these three, she knew, and maybe Celes would benefit from the interaction.

 

“Good evening,” she offered as she reached the table.  Is Harry glaring at me?  The thought was tinged with disbelief.

 

“Captain!” Tom said with, she thought, a little too much enthusiasm.  “Have a seat.  Hi, Celes.  How’s it going?” 

 

Tal nodded to the officers.  “Lieutenants.  Ensign.  It’s going well, sir, thank you.  And you?”

 

Janeway pulled out the chair on the end next to Tom, automatically taking the head of the table.  Tal’s words and Tom’s response reached her ears without registering.  She pushed what must have been Seven’s plate aside and motioned for Tal to sit.  “Seconds before you’ve finished your firsts, Harry?” she said lightly.

 

“No, Captain.  That was Seven’s.”  He didn’t smile.

 

“Guess she had to get back to work,” Janeway said, still forcing the cheer into her voice.

 

Harry shook his head slightly.  “I don’t think so.”

 

That had definitely been a glare earlier.  She didn’t have work? Janeway wondered. 

 

“I think she lost her appetite,” Harry added.

 

Janeway flinched, but picked up her fork and started eating.  Oh-kay, Seven is pissed at me and apparently she didn’t make a secret of it.  What—Harry’s angry on her behalf?  Charming.

 

B’Elanna kicked Harry under the table.  “Seven said she didn’t care for it,” she corrected.

 

Janeway hummed softly under her breath in reply as she chewed, hoping it would signal that her interest in the subject had waned.  I have got to talk to Seven, she thought.

 

B’Elanna and Tom were groping for something to say and silently urging the other to come up with something.  Only the captain seemed unaware of the tension.  Tom shot a sympathetic glance at Tal.  She must be wondering what the hell is going on, he thought.  B’Elanna was pretty sure the captain hadn’t missed Harry’s accusation, despite her nonchalance, and when Tom met her quick look, she knew he was thinking the same thing.

 

The captain gave them a smile.  “Celes here has done some excellent work today.  We’re celebrating.  Right, Celes?”

 

Tal flushed, though whether from the praise or the smile Janeway turned on her B’Elanna wasn’t sure and didn’t much care.  She was just glad the captain had thrown out a life line before she or Tom had a heart attack.  I can’t believe Harry did that.  And she ignored it!  She’s even smoothing things over.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Tal murmured.

 

“Great!” Tom said, a little too heartily.  B’Elanna and Janeway both nodded enthusiastically, though.  Taking encouragement from his partner, he tactfully reinterpreted Janeway’s words so Celes wouldn’t be embarrassed at the reference to her less than stellar performance.  “So it must be clear skies ahead, huh?”  He got Tal to describe the space ahead and before long they were discussing a particularly picturesque region of Bajor.

 

Thank God he’s been everywhere, Janeway thought as the conversation flowed around her.  Soon even Harry was laughing as Tom told everyone how he and Harry had met aboard Deep Space Nine, just in the nick of time for him to save Harry from a clever bartender.

 

Janeway had resolutely carried on with her dinner and she decided she’d finally eaten enough to take her leave.  As the laughter faded, she set her fork down and pushed her chair back.  “I’d love to hear more, but I have some things to take care of.”  Tal rose as she did.  “Oh, don’t get up on my account, Celes.  You kids stay and have fun.”  She winked at Tom and he grinned obligingly.

 

Tal glanced at the others still seated.  “Um, actually, I need to be going, too, Captain.”  She nodded to the officers and grabbed her tray.  “Sirs.”

 

B’Elanna waved off the formality.  “’Night, Celes, Captain.”

 

A round of goodnights later, Janeway made her escape, with Celes right behind her.

 

Tom slumped over the table.  “When I came to dinner tonight, I didn’t know it was going to turn into an exercise in diplomacy!”

 

“God, Harry!  What were you thinking?” B’Elanna demanded.

 

He sighed.  “Just don’t kick me again, okay?”

 

In the corridor, Janeway wished Tal goodnight and moved off crisply, fervently glad dinner was over.

 

“Let not your heart be troubled . . . . I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. . . . I am the way.”

John 14:1-3, 6, KJV

The cargo bay doors opened for Janeway.  Seven was pacing frenetically away from her and didn’t seem immediately aware of her presence.  The captain stood motionless only a step within and watched her.  She rarely saw Seven so stripped of her composure.  The captain’s worry was only growing.  Seven always identified a presence immediately and she always recognized her captain.  Janeway felt a little pang as she realized only now how much that awareness meant to her.  Seven seemed to reach the extent of an invisible tether, pivoted, and began pacing towards Janeway.  Only now did she see the captain and she stopped short in surprise. 

 

“Captain!”  Seven almost yelped.

 

Janeway held up a soothing hand.  “I didn’t mean to intrude.  Am I disturbing you?  I very much want to talk to you, but . . .”  She inclined her head towards the doors behind her.  She would leave if Seven wanted her to.

 

“You are not.”  Seven tried to collect herself.  “May I assist you?”

 

Janeway winced.  “I wanted to apologize for missing our game.  When I saw you in the mess hall, I hoped you might have some time then, but you left so quickly . . . I was terribly disappointed to have to cancel, Seven.  You know that, right?”

 

Seven considered her.  She had not known Janeway was ‘terribly disappointed,’ and it seemed an important point for the captain.  “I did not,” she said with some confusion.

 

“Seven, I would never cancel on you if I could avoid it.  I was so looking forward to our game.”

 

Did Janeway believe she thought otherwise?  Was that the reason she seemed to be proceeding so carefully in this conversation?  “I know you wouldn’t.”

 

Oh.  “So . . . you aren’t angry with me?”

 

“Angry?”  Seven gave her an odd look.  “Of course not.”

 

Right.  “Huh,” Janeway managed.  So what the hell is going on?

 

Seven wondered if the captain was finished with that line of conversation and if now might therefore be an acceptable time to broach her own thoughts.  The captain was simply standing there, looking at her with a gentle, if slightly bemused, expression.  Seven turned away and resumed her pacing, though now her steps were slower, her motion more deliberate.  Finally, she said, without turning, “Captain, does your shepherd ever feel love for one of his sheep?”

 

Love for a  . . . On your toes, Katie.  Try to keep up.  She remembered the metaphor she’d used over a month ago to explain her motivation to Seven, telling her a story as she often did to help Seven understand.  Her dedication to and affection for her crew filled her chest as she thought of Seven’s question in that context.  “For all of them,” she husked.

 

“For all of them?”  Seven turned to regard her over her shoulder.  “Never just one?”

 

Just one . . . Just one.  Her mind raced as she tried to determine what Seven was asking.  She squelched the little fluttering in her chest that arose at Seven’s phrasing.  Rejoices more for that one . . .  That was how she’d come to think of Seven once the young woman had remarked that Janeway had found her.  That one.  This isn’t about that!  “Seven . . .”  She stopped and held out her hands, silent admission of her confusion.  “I’m the shepherd, right?  There’s a point at which metaphor breaks down and should be abandoned.”  She smiled crookedly.

 

Seven turned to face her fully.  “Tal Celes is infatuated with you.”

 

“It’s just a crush,” Janeway said reflexively, surprised both at the sudden change in topic and that Seven had noticed.

 

Seven nodded.  “She has a crush. On you.”

 

“Yes,” Janeway said mildly, wondering where in hell this had come from and where it was going.

 

“You are aware of this?”

 

Ah.  She must think it’s going to be a problem.  “It’s just a crush, Seven.”  Then realizing she’d already said that, she elaborated.  “It’ll pass.”

 

“She is fascinated by anything you say or do.  She wishes to be always in your presence and is happier when she is with you than she is anywhere else.  This will pass?”

 

Janeway began nodding but Seven had continued.  “When you are not near, she contemplates the nature of your existence, the things you have said to her, your physical features.  The smallest detail is captivating, the mere sight of you satisfying, the knowledge you exist a comfort.  Simply regarding your face is pleasure; speaking with you, a joy.  To be with you is to be complete.  To think of you is to appreciate individuality.”

 

Janeway cheeks had grown warm at hearing Seven speak of her that way.  Nature of my existence . . . A comfort?  To be complete?  Oh, God.  I’m blushing!  Damn it. She was disconcerted, but she tried to ignore her feelings and keep up with the conversation.

 

“Well, maybe that won’t pass,” she replied dryly.  “Tal doesn’t feel like that, Seven.  She’s a little besotted—not in love!”

 

Seven cocked her head. 

 

Janeway held up a hand, asking Seven to let her explain.  “Temporarily, fleetingly infatuated.  A little too charmed by the captain.  It happens sometimes—the power . . .”  She closed her eyes and rubbed at the bridge of her nose.  “It can make one seem like more than she is.  All Tal sees is the aura of command.  She’s made me into some heroic figure.  She’s attracted to an illusion.  It will fade.  Believe me, when she sees I’m human after all, it’ll fade.”  Her voice had dropped to a whisper.  Now she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.  “That’s what a crush is.”

 

She watched Seven’s head go back, a clear sign she understood.  Janeway breathed out her relief.  Seven turned away again, moving while she thought.  She stopped after a few steps.  “Then this isn’t a crush.” 

 

Janeway was becoming used to the abrupt twists the conversation kept taking.  She simply waited for Seven to say more.  She couldn’t imagine where Seven had gotten the idea that Tal’s feelings were anything more than a passing absorption.  That’s what she means, right?  She walked over to Seven who turned to meet her.  Janeway found herself so close that she had to tilt her head back to meet her eyes.  “Seven?”  Seven smiled and Janeway unconsciously smiled back.  

 

“This will not pass,” Seven informed her.

 

“No?”  Kathryn smiled up at her, utterly charmed by Seven’s nearness and the smile she’d received, not quite aware of what she was saying.

 

“No.”

 

She’d rarely heard Seven’s voice sound so gentle.  Janeway was suddenly muddled, as if she‘d abruptly found herself in a place she didn’t recognize.  She stepped back and glanced down at the deck.  “I’m sorry.  What were we talking about?”

 

“Feelings,” Seven said in that same soft tone.

 

“Feelings, right.”  Janeway looked up at her.  The steady gaze unnerved her, but not as much as the look in her eyes or the curl of her lips.  Get a grip, Kathryn.

 

“Do you remember the last time we talked about feelings?”

 

Janeway nodded.  “You came to my ready room.”

 

“You asked if I needed you.”

 

Janeway nodded.  She didn’t actually remember that, though she remembered other things from that conversation with perfect clarity, things that were softening her discipline and demeanor even more as Seven made her recall them.  She was willing to trust to Seven’s eidetic memory on the details.  Janeway didn’t much care anymore what the conversation was about as long as it continued and she got to keep standing this close to Seven. 

 

“I was startled by the question.  For a moment, it meant something other than what you intended.”

 

Some part of Janeway’s mind gave her a little jolt so she’d pay attention.  She did remember that Seven had seemed flustered when she opened the conversation.  That was when she’d become concerned.  Right. 

 

“It was as if you knew everything I was feeling and had easily extracted the essence of my emotions when I hadn’t been able to.  I told you no.”  Seven took a deep breath. Janeway had stopped feeling surprised and bemused by the conversational curves, but Seven had managed to shake her again.  She felt suspended, living and dying in the space between Seven’s words, waiting for what came next, sensing the import of this moment.  “But I was correcting my own misinterpretation.  I do need you.”

 

This had the effect of enlightening the earlier part of their conversation for the captain.  The reference to the shepherd parable, the switch to Tal Celes and her crush . . . Janeway sipped in a breath.  That description . . . 

 

She had to clear her throat before she could speak.  “Seven?  What you said before about comfort and pleasure and completion . . .” She trailed off, wondering if she dared to ask, to hear Seven dash her rising hopes.  “You weren’t talking about Tal’s feelings, were you?”

 

“I thought I was.  I thought she felt as I do.”

 

“That’s how you think of me?  All those . . .” Janeway stopped to breathe.  “All those beautiful things?”

 

Seven’s cheeks turned the palest shade of pink and she ducked her head.  “You have always told me,” she said hesitantly, “that any feelings I have are acceptable.”

 

“Oh, Seven.”  I didn’t mean for this to happen . . . But it was happening.  She had been content with things as they were, at least for now, but with Seven before her, shy and blushing, confessing need, she knew things were no longer as they had been.  I didn’t mean to do this . . . She lifted a hand to Seven’s face, smoothing her fingertips over the color highlighting the cheekbones.  “More than acceptable.”  Her voice was rough and her breath came faster in anticipation of what she was going to do.  She rose on tiptoe, gently urged Seven’s face down, and kissed her, one chaste press of lips.  She drew back, still on tiptoe, as close as an embrace, but the only touch her hand resting lightly on Seven’s cheek.  “If you need me, you have me.”

 

“This is not fleeting, Captain.”

 

“Not fleeting.”  Janeway now moved her hand as she dropped back on her heels.  “Ask me about the shepherd again.”  She took Seven’s hands.  “And I want you to say my name.  I want to hear you call me Kathryn, please.”

 

“Kathryn,” Seven said solemnly, “Do you love one individual?”

 

“Just one,” Janeway confirmed.  “Just you.”

 


[1] While there are many shepherd metaphors in the bible, such as the one found in the Twenty-Third Psalm, the parable of the Good Shepherd is found in Matthew 18:12-13 and Luke 15:1-7 (and also in the Gospel of Thomas).  Janeway paraphrases slightly.



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