The Diary of Kathryn Janeway
© GB
Captain's personal log:
Nobody knows that there is someone in my life.
I have not told a soul.
Chakotay thinks my feelings are maternal. Tuvok sees me as her mentor. I am both, of
course, but it has turned out to be so much more.
When she came onboard my ship, she was defiant and frightened. She would not confess to
being afraid. She acted out in rage, in despair that I would not let her go back.
How could I possibly have returned this extraordinary young woman to the Collective?
Had I done that, I would have prevented her from becoming all that she showed such promise
to be.
She hated me for it for a while.
During her transformation from a cybernetic drone to a vibrant, beautiful woman, she
drove me insane by refusing to obey orders and question the chain of command. She
challenged my intentions and drove me crazy. I resented the constant arguments at first.
After a while I came to look forward to them and welcomed the thought provoking
discussions. As it turned out, she has exceeded my expectations of her.
The crew does not like her.
They do not trust her and they are wary of the interest I take in her. They hate the
Borg.
She was Borg. In many ways, she still is.
Six weeks ago everything I held to be true changed. I was playing Velocity with her
when it happened.
After the second game I suddenly found myself asking her if she had plans for the
evening. I regretted it immediately and held my breath, hoping she would say that she
previously engaged.
Of course she turned to me with that wondering look in her eyes and said:
"Captain? " in that way that makes my heart jump.
I could not take my words back. I clarified my question. "I 'm asking if you have
plans tonight since I thought we could have dinner together in my quarters."
That was not what I had intended to say. I had meant to ask her to have dinner with me
in the mess hall. I had figured it was a good opportunity for Seven to hone her social
skills. At least that was the way I had rationalised the suggestion to myself,
haphazardly. Now I had made matters worse by adding a suggested intimacy to the offer.
Her eyes widened. "Dinner?" she asked incredulously. "I have just begun
to adjust to oral intake of nutrition, Captain. My intestines can only digest a liquid
diet."
I knew this. I still thought I knew everything about her.
"Yes, Seven," I improvised. "I thought I could treat you to a light
chowder and ..."
Her implant rose together with her right eyebrow. "Why? " she interrupted.
I did not have a good answer to that. None that I was prepared to reveal anyway.
Chastising myself for being such a coward I decided drop the whole idea. "Never
mind," I said. "Another time, perhaps"
She walked right up to me, invaded my personal space and regarded me steadily with
those huge blue eyes, a light frown on her forehead. "I do not understand, Captain.
You invite me and then change your mind? You want me to join you and then you do
not?"
"Do you want to join me?" I asked, my heart suddenly in my throat, blurring
my words.
She clasped her hands behind her back and nodded. "I find the suggestion
agreeable. I spend all evenings in solitude in cargo bay two. The idea of accompanying
someone is pleasant"
Accompanying someone. I felt a pang of disappointment at the suggestion that any
company, not mine in particular, would do. Then the full extent of her words hit. She was
alone every evening? I, who cherished my chosen privacy, had never thought it possible
that there was anyone among my crew who was completely alone.
"Good, I’ll expect you around eight tonight, then," I managed and Seven
nodded in agreement.
When I reached the door, I glanced quickly over my shoulder. I was not sure but I
thought for a moment I saw her give a faint smile.
*
I cringe at the amount of time I put into changing my appearance before she arrived.
I first put on the light blue-grey dress with short sleeves and just as quickly changed
my mind. I went through my closet twice before finding the green sleeveless velvet dress.
The mirror told me it was becoming. I debated the presence of make up or not while
straightening the dress. I ended up just accentuating my eyes and putting on some wine
coloured lipstick.
I wanted to wear my hair up but let it remain as I always keep it. I looked pale and
nervous. Truth be told I had changed my mind but knew I would have to make it through this
meal. Seven would be confused and hurt if I cancelled this late.
I remember wishing for a red alert.
She was prompt.
She stood outside my door, dressed in her maroon bio suit, her hair immaculately in
place and with a red rose in her cybernetic hand.
"A rose, Seven?" I said, raising my eyebrows, trying to stall, to buy some
time.
"I conducted some basic research, Captain. Delivering a rose is prudent on a first
date."
My heart skipped a beat and I blushed. "A date?"
The hand holding the fragile flower slowly dropped a couple of inches. "This is
not a date? " The self-doubt in her voice tore at me, angered me, drowned out what I
initially had intended to say.
She was assuming too much. I had seen the way she looked at me at times. Her blue eyes
shining with interest, her full lips parting as if in anticipation of something she was
unaware of. This would cause my heart to race and I would have to break eye contact.
I could not look away. Her eyes held mine and I could easily detect the bewilderment as
my comment made her brilliant mind re-evaluate the purpose of this rendezvous. Hating the
fact that I caused her such confusion but at the same time scared out of my wits, I
accepted the rose. It had no thorns and its scent was distinctive. She must have picked it
in the hydroponics bay.
"It's a beautiful flower, Seven," I managed. "Thank you. You’re
right, it is appropriate to bring your hostess a flower or a gift."
Again, I had cowardly avoided the issue, not wanting her to think of this as a date. I
had not forgotten the sense of disappointment earlier when I had felt that any company
Seven had would had been sufficient. Now I was dreading the fact that she might desire my
company too much. I bit my lip and inwardly groaned at myself for being so ambivalent.
Of course she remained standing until I pulled out a chair at the table and more or
less ordered her to sit down. I had not till this day ever seen Seven sit down
voluntarily. Even in the conference room she regarded the chair with suspicion. 'The Borg
do not sit.'
She ate the chowder with apparent pleasure.
She spoke in her quiet alto voice during our meal. The Doctor had assisted her well in
the noble art of making small talk. Her words were stereotype for the occasion but the
timbre of her voice, the way it caressed my senses, was indisputably unique. It rose and
fell, lulled me into a false sense of security and not until she cocked her head and said:
"Captain? " did I realise that she had asked me something.
Blushing, I had to confess that I had strayed in my thoughts. Her implant and eyebrow
rose and then the corners of her mouth. "I have finished this bowl of chowder. I was
merely inquiring if it is appropriate for me to leave now or if you are going to ask me to
join you for a ... night cap? "
I did not want her to go. I was terrified that she might stay.
I opened my mouth and tried to speak but could only stutter when two such conflicting
emotions collided inside me. In the dust that settled I blushed again and then softly
cleared my throat to buy some more time.
"Please stay a little longer, Seven," I said in a quite tone of voice.
"I thought we could sit on the couch, have something to drink and listen to some
music"
Her eyes lit up. She was so transparent and yet such a mystery. "That is
agreeable, Captain," she said and rose. She walked across my living room and stopped
just in front of the doorway to the bedroom. "Is this where you sleep, Captain?
" she asked, her voice even as she gazed inside the other room.
"Yes"
"You find that the reclining position provides a superior sleep pattern? "
She glanced over her shoulder. I knew she was not being facetious, that she meant her
question literally. Still I felt flushed and angry that she would make me respond that way
when I knew her way of thinking, of speaking, so well.
"Most people sleep in a reclining position," I stated tersely. I realised I
was behaving badly but seeing her standing there, so beautiful, so radiant and only a few
feet from my bed scared me.
I wanted her to leave. I would be so disappointed if she left.
"I do not know if I ever will experience sleep," she said wistfully.
"Perhaps I will have to accept regenerating in an upright position for the rest of my
duration" She walked over to the couch and sat down. Her back was ramrod straight,
her hands on her lap, one neatly folded one around the other and her knees tight together.
She looked like a child sitting on a strict but beloved grandmother's couch.
I desperately needed a break from her scrutinising gaze. I walked over to the
replicator and delivered my requests.
With two mugs in my hands I sank down next to her, suddenly weak at the knees and not
able to resist closing the distance between us. I had made strong black coffee for myself
but knew she would not like that. I gave her sweetened tea instead, which met her
approval.
"You look tired," Seven noticed after sipping her tea. "Are you unwell,
Captain?"
"I'm fine."
I hate that question. So many people ask it over and over during the days. I knew I
often look haggard when I have pulled too many all-nighters. This causes the entire ship
to inquire about my health. Do they not know by now that even if my limbs were falling
off, I would claim that I was just fine ?
My impatience must have been evident in my voice and my facial expression. Seven
lowered her eyes and then began to rise. "I have kept you up too long ..." she
began and I could hear her distancing herself from me as her voice grew monotone.
"I 'm sorry," I whispered. "Don't go. Stay."
She sat back down but only regarded me without expression.
I did not know what to say. Finally she spoke.
"Captain?"
"I 'm cold," I said.
Two words.
I will always wonder what would have taken place that evening in my quarters if I had
not said those exact words. I had been her captain, her mentor, her protector, even
maternal at times and, I guess, her friend. I knew her well.
Telling her that I was cold, knowing how Seven's mind worked and that she would
interpret that as: 'I'm cold and you can do something about it - why else would I tell
you?' and act on it.
She reached for me and I found myself on her lap the next moment. She probably had held
Naomi Wildman like this on several occasions and now tapped into that information in order
to comfort her captain.
"I will keep you warm, Kathryn," she murmured against my hair.
My name. Her lips. She had spoken my name for the first time. The letters and syllables
had formed my name. She had breathed my name against my hair. The intimacy of it
overwhelmed me.
I looked up and could not stop staring at her mouth. It was half open, her white teeth
glimmering behind them. This was the mouth that had formed my name.
I knew then that whatever my reasons for not sharing myself with anyone were, they did
not matter anymore. I could no longer resist these overpowering emotions that came
crashing presence when she stepped out of the turbo over me as soon as she walked into a
room or I heard her voice on the comm system.
I always could sense if it was her walking out of the turbo lift onto the bridge. I had
actually said: "Good, you 're here, Seven. Take your station," without looking.
It had made Chakotay smile broadly and Tom Paris smirk.
This feeling washing over me explained in no uncertain terms why all the poets for
hundreds of years had sung about love. I knew I had bordered on obsession regarding Seven
but love had won. I had no defence against this girl and there was no need for any.
I pulled her head down and, not thinking of the consequences, I kissed her.
Now, six weeks later, I think I remember hearing her whimper but if she did, I caught
the sounds she made in my mouth and made them mine. I know I gasped breathlessly against
her lips as I planted a trail of soft, moist kisses along them.
She allowed me to indulge myself for as long as I wanted. Kissing her face, her lips
and down her neck, over and over. I basked in the feeling of her. Only when I slowed down
and buried my face against her, did she tip my head back to examine the expression in my
eyes.
"Kathryn," she said. It was not a question and nor was there any criticism
present, She simply seemed pleased to say my name. "Kathryn."
She mimicked my movements and she did it well. Cupping my face, she leaned down and
captured my lips in a kiss both searing and innocent. Her tongue parted my lips and
entered my mouth not leaving any room for doubt that she took as much pleasure in the
intimate caress as I did.
She pulled me closer, flattening my breasts against hers. I could only hold on,
wrapping my arms tight around her leonine neck as she devoured me.
Slowly we pulled back eventually. I was out of breath and nervous. We had burned so
many bridges and, for me at least, there was no turning back.
I do not know why I thought she would not ask anything of me.
I was wrong. She wanted it all.
She approached the attraction, the love; the prospect of a relationship as she would a
work related challenge or a game of Velocity. She began to ask me questions, wanting to
know everything about me, all at once, without patience.
I knew I was smiling. Her frenzy puzzled me. Her enthusiasm, all abandoning passion was
so apparent.
"Shh," I hushed at her. "Seven, slow down. There will be time for all
that later. "
This made her stop and to my horror, big tears formed and dropped down her cheeks as
she began to withdraw from me.
"Seven? What's wrong?" I asked.
Is it not amazing how quickly discarded insecurities can reappear? I was suddenly sure
that I had misinterpreted the whole situation or scared her or hurt her or ...
"This is not just for tonight? Not merely this evening? " Seven asked, her
voice hardly carrying.
My heart shattered. I took so much for granted when it came to her.
"Seven, if you want, this can be forever," I said, relief flood my veins.
"I love you."
She pulled me close again, sobbing my name into my hair. There was a lot I could have
said to comfort her but knowing not to repeat my mistakes, I held my peace. She was not
used to crying. I remember, thinking that becoming involved with me would probably let her
get used to tears, both hers and mine.
I do not know why it took me so long to let love in. Love does not question, it merely
awaits our invitation, our decision. Could it be that it would take this special young
woman, this extraordinary creature - so unlike anyone I have every met - for me to allow
love back in?
I asked her the following day how she felt about me. We were still on the couch,
wrapped up in each others arms..
"You already know," she said, sounding completely surprised.
"I do? " I asked, skimming through our previous conversations in my mind.
Probably realising that she might not have been such an open book after all, Seven
frowned.
"I beg your forgiveness, Captain," she said, sounding certain but also very
young. She framed my face with her hands. "I thought my feelings were evident. I have
always loved you."
I exhaled slowly.
"Don’t be sorry," I murmured. "I’m glad you told me."
When I think back on that night, when I slept in Seven's arms there on the couch
beneath the view port, I sometimes have to pinch myself.
I have this wonderful young woman in my life and I have yet to let them all know.
I will. Soon. I can not put it off much longer.
I am still afraid.
I am not alone.
I am loved.
*****
End
