chapter 36

 

 

Seven stood behind Revi, her hand resting on her shoulder. : It’ll be all right. :

: You can’t make that guarantee. :

: No, but I can guarantee that I’ll be here with you no matter what she says or what happens. :

Revi reached up to cover Seven’s hand, consciously straightened her posture, and tapped the communication console at the living room desk. “Hello, Mother.”

“Revi. It’s good to see you again.” Dhara gave her an uncertain smile. “How are you?”

“Nervous,” said Revi truthfully. “What did you decide?”

“You thought I would change my mind.” Dhara shook her head. “No. It’s been seven days and I’m calling just as you asked me to. When can we get together and do this?”

“So you’re absolutely certain you want to go through with it.”

“I’m absolutely certain I need to go through with it.”

Revi’s tension eased, but not by much. “All right. In an hour?”

“That would be fine. Just tell me where I should go.”

“I’ll pick you up at the Bloomington, Indiana transport station.”

“Bloomington?” It was clearly the last place she’d expected. “Is that where you’re staying?”

“For now, yes. Captain Janeway’s mother has been very gracious.”

“How kind of her. Will I be meeting her?”

Revi knew her mother well enough to hear the real question. “Yes, you will. I’m afraid you won’t meet Captain Janeway, though. She’s in New York.”

“That’s all right,” said Dhara. “I’m coming to Bloomington for you, not anyone else. So…one hour, then?”

“Yes. And Mother, I need to tell you—Seven will be sharing our link with us.”

Dhara looked past Revi and met Seven’s eyes, her own showing a sudden increase in trepidation. “Oh, I see.”

“No, you don’t,” said Revi. “But you will.”

 

 

-----

 

 

“Honey, I’m home!”

Gretchen smiled at Lynne’s theatrical entrance. “So you are. And in a good mood, considering the news we’ve all received.”

Lynne shrugged off her overcoat, revealing the sharp black suit she wore beneath it. Pulling a hanger from the hall closet, she said, “It’s not all that surprising to either me or Kathryn. We never believed the danger was over, and we’re not going to believe it until whoever hired those Cardassians is found and put away. That’s why Revi, Seven and I are still wearing our Borg bands.” She hung up the coat and turned back to face Gretchen. “But I do feel bad about you. I’m really sorry that you’ve found yourself in the middle of all this. I’m sure that a twenty-four hour security detail wasn’t anything you envisioned when you were looking forward to our homecoming.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you envisioned, either.” Gretchen didn’t know how Lynne could be so calm about it. She’d called from Paris to tell Gretchen not to bother picking her up at the transport station, since by Admiral Necheyev’s advice she’d just added two security guards to the team and would be escorted home by them. Until further notice, she said, she’d be accompanied by two guards every time she left the house.

“Well, no, I can’t say that it was. But I also can’t get too upset about it when it’s my fault they’re necessary. I’m just upset about it for you.”

Gretchen shook her head. “You’re not responsible for someone else’s utter lack of decency.”

“True, but I made myself the target. No, it’s okay,” she said as Gretchen tried to speak. “I’m not going down the self-blame road again. I’m just trying to deal with the facts. So, where’s my little buddy?”

Accepting the subject change, Gretchen answered, “He’s in the kitchen. Come to think of it, you’re just in time for a feeding.”

Lynne’s face lit up. “Am I? Good. I was looking forward to that.” She started toward the kitchen, but came to a stop at the end of Gretchen’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“You are going to go upstairs and change out of that suit first. That’s a meet-the-President suit, not a feed-the-orphan-kitten suit. And then I want to hear all about your meeting.”

Lynne grinned. “Deal. And I get to hear all about the vet visit.”

She was downstairs again in a minute and a half, by which time Gretchen had already replicated the formula in its bottle. With a smile, Lynne took it from her and sat cross-legged on the floor by the kitten’s box. “Hi, little guy,” she murmured as she lifted him out on his heating pad. “Did you miss me?”

The kitten squirmed as his sleep was disturbed, then opened soft blue eyes and looked around. When Lynne offered the bottle he latched on with alacrity, closing his eyes and sucking busily.

“Good stuff, huh? My god, you’re cute. I bet the vet loved you.” She looked up. “So what did he say?”

Gretchen pulled out a chair and sat down, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Lynne’s hands full of kitten and bottle. “Well, our little guest isn’t feral after all.”

“He isn’t?”

“No, Dr. Landross said that feral cats have natural reproductive cycles tuned to the availability of food, and there’s nothing natural about giving birth in the middle of an Indiana winter.”

“Oh, that makes sense. I should have thought of that. So much for my biology background.”

“Which means someone bred the mother cat intentionally, and then lost her somehow. Dr. Landross said he’d ask around, but he hasn’t heard any reports of a lost cat. So it seems likely that whoever the owner was is either not too worried about it or lost her on purpose.”

“Bastard.”

“Also, he has no fleas—one benefit to being born in the winter—and after a few injections, he’s now properly tuned up and ready to go. Dr. Landross aged him at just under four weeks. He said you could start weaning him in three or four days in theory, but he’d recommend another ten days, given the rough start. In a week you can offer him solid food just to see how he feels about it.”

“Okay. I can do ten days. Thank you so much for taking care of him.” Lynne looked down at her charge. “You look a lot better. Check out your fat little belly!”

Gretchen smiled. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

“Um…yes, but I’m not sure Kathryn will like it.”

“Who cares what Kathryn thinks? Is she taking care of this kitten, or are you?”

“Good point. I didn’t see her anywhere in sight when the shit hit the fan, so to speak. Well, I was thinking Barney.”

“Barney,” repeated Gretchen. “Was that a common cat name in your century?”

Laughing, Lynne said, “No. At least I don’t think so. It was a name for men, and kind of old-fashioned even then. But, given where he was found…”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Gretchen laughed too. “I like it.”

“Do you? All right then, it’s settled.”

Barney was fed, burped, induced to ‘do his business,’ as Lynne put it, and tidied up afterwards. Gretchen watched the process with a well-hidden sense of delight. She wasn’t about to say anything, but it was obvious to her that Barney already had his rescuer wrapped around his tiny paw, and nothing could have been better for Lynne’s psyche. Last night Kathryn had worried aloud about the difficulty of adding any more complications to Lynne’s already overwhelming load, but Gretchen had told her that this, at least, was a complication that might bear fruit. “That kitten needs her,” she’d said, “but I think she needs him even more.”

Once Lynne had Barney happily ensconced in his box, Gretchen listened in open astonishment to the story of her meeting with the President. “It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me what you’d planned to do,” she said. “I’d have strongly advised you against it. Actually I would have thought you were out of your mind.”

“Alison was horrified. You should have seen the look on her face when I threw Gutierrez’ offer back on the table. And then when she found out that I bluffed him—” Lynne chuckled at the memory. “She’s so cool and professional, but when she’s surprised, the real Alison comes out in full color.”

“I don’t imagine she’s surprised very often.”

“No, I don’t think so either. It’s funny, when I first met her she scared me to death. She was so intimidating! But now I like her quite a lot. First impressions can be so deceiving.”

“Not always,” said Gretchen. “My first impression of you was pretty good.”

Lynne smiled at her. “That was definitely mutual. Anyway, we should have some very good news in a week, and then I’m going to throw a huge party for the Maquis and any of our crew who are still in range and want to come. A real party, without any dignitaries or stuffy speeches. Just for us.”

They discussed Kathryn’s parade, which Lynne had missed while in Paris, and her interview afterward, which Lynne and Alison had seen while having lunch after their meeting. “It is so strange to be eating lunch when it’s dark outside and everyone else thinks it’s dinnertime,” said Lynne. “This time zone thing is killing me.”

“That’s why most people still choose to live near their place of work, even though they could theoretically live anywhere in the world,” said Gretchen. “Transporters eliminate the distance, but you can’t change the time zones. So tell me, is Kathryn handling the loss of her crew members as well as she seems to be?”

“If you’d asked me that question two years ago, or even one year ago, I’d have said no. But I think she’s better about taking on the guilt of the universe these days.”

“So now she only takes on the guilt of the galaxy?”

“Something like that. But it’s an improvement.”

And how much guilt do you take on? Gretchen wanted to ask. She might even have done it had the shout not erupted from the front of the house. “Mother!”

“In the kitchen,” Gretchen called.

Phoebe blew into the kitchen with her usual energy and dropped a breathless kiss on her cheek. “Hi! Hey, Lynne! How’s the kitten?”

“See for yourself.” Lynne gestured toward the box. “But don’t you dare wake him up.”

“As if anything could,” said Phoebe, bending over the box. “He’s a baby. Babies sleep through everything. Oh, he’s so cute!”

“He takes after his mom,” said Gretchen, ignoring the look Lynne shot her.

“So he’s going to be all right?”

“Looks like it,” Lynne answered. “As long as I keep up my end.”

Pulling out a chair, Phoebe flopped into it and said, “It’s going to be fun watching Kathryn dealing with a cat.”

Lynne looked from her to Gretchen. “Is there something about Kathryn and cats that I don’t know about?”

“Just that she’s never had one,” said Gretchen. “She’s always preferred dogs.”

“She likes things that she can train.” Phoebe gave Lynne a wicked smile. “And give orders to. Cats aren’t very good at taking orders.”

“No, but neither am I. By now I think she’s used to it.”

“Oh!” Phoebe suddenly remembered. “How did your meeting go?”

“Got everything I wanted. The Federation Council should be announcing the Maquis amnesty by next week.”

“Whoo!” shouted Phoebe, punching her fist into the air.

“Jesus Christ, could you be any louder?” Lynne leaned over to check on the kitten, and Gretchen smothered a smile.

Lowering her voice to an exaggerated whisper, Phoebe said, “You’re amazing! Chakotay will be so happy to hear it.”

“Not yet he won’t. Chakotay isn’t hearing a word about it until it actually happens, and neither is anyone else,” said Lynne. “I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up just in case something goes wrong.”

“Damn.” Phoebe was crestfallen. “I was looking forward to telling him.”

“I didn’t realize you knew him that well.” Gretchen could not believe what she was seeing, but she recognized the signs.

“We had a great talk at the reception, didn’t I mention that? And then last week he came by my gallery.” She looked at Lynne. “He was actually hoping to see Kathryn and you, but you were in deep dark seclusion and didn’t see fit to tell me where you were. So we had lunch and he spent the afternoon hanging out in my gallery. We talked a lot in between customers. He’s really a remarkable man. I can see why you and Kathryn thought so highly of him.”

Lynne widened her eyes at Gretchen, who shrugged her shoulders slightly.

“I guess I forgot to tell you that he was looking for you,” Phoebe continued. “Sorry.”

“I don’t think he was looking very hard. We may have been out of touch, but we did get messages. So, is he enjoying Arizona?”

“Oh, you should hear him talk about it! You can see in his eyes how much he loves the canyon country. He showed me some holopictures and you know, I really have no idea why I’ve never gone down there to paint. The colors in the rocks are amazing. They already look like paintings. And now I have a place to stay when I go—Chakotay has a spare room and he said I’d be welcome there any time. Hey, where were Seven and Revi going?”

Gretchen was long used to Phoebe’s abrupt changes of direction, but she could see Lynne shaking her head. “I don’t know, why?”

“They were just coming out of the barn in the four-seater when I came up the walk.”

“Probably off to town for some reason. I don’t track their every move, Phoebe.”

“Well, I know, but I waved and Revi just sort of nodded, and she looked kind of like I used to when you were taking me to placement exams.”

“Maybe they were going to their counseling appointment,” Gretchen guessed.

“No, that’s not until tomorrow,” said Lynne. “I hope they’re not house hunting.”

“They’re not leaving, are they?” Gretchen was dismayed. “Oh, they can’t. It’s too soon.”

“Tell me about it. Actually, Gretchen, would you tell them that? They were making noises about not wanting to wear out their welcome here.”

“As if they could! Are they honestly that blind? Good heavens. I’ll tell them the next time I see them.”

 

 

-----

 

 

It was a very quiet ride from the transport station back to the farmhouse, and Seven didn’t even attempt small talk. She’d never been successful at it in the first place, and she was doubly certain that it would fail now. Revi was normally the one who smoothed over their social situations, but she sat stone-faced in the passenger seat, her still posture belying the turmoil in her mind.

“This is lovely countryside,” ventured Dhara from the back seat. “I’ve never been to Indiana before.”

“It’s a bit different from San Francisco,” said Revi. “I like it. There’s a peace here that I never felt in San Francisco.”

After a pause, Dhara said, “I don’t think that has anything to do with the landscape.”

Revi let out a soft snort. “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

: Revi, she’s at least making an attempt. I think you should respect that. :

: I do. I just don’t know what to say. ‘Gee, Mother, thanks so much for coming so that we can share an interlink and I can find out why Father never loved me and you left me to fight all my own battles?’ If you think it’s awkward now, wait until I say that. :

: In a few minutes she’ll know exactly what you’re thinking and feeling anyway. What is the difference? :

Revi sighed. : Sometimes I hate your logic. : She opened her mouth to speak, but Dhara beat her to it.

“Revi, if I can ask—is there a reason why you and I can’t settle this alone? It’s not that I don’t think you’re a perfectly wonderful young woman, Seven, but…this is rather intimate.”

“It’s extremely intimate,” said Seven. “And I’m not offended by your question.” She waited for Revi to explain.

“The problem is that first of all, I’m way too close to this to be able to control our interlink,” said Revi. “And someone has to control it, because you have no experience. You’re not going to be able to communicate coherently at first, not without some help. Seven will be there to help you, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to.” She paused. “And second, taking Seven out of our link means tuning out her frequency and losing all contact with her. Except for one time when we had to sever our connection for strategic reasons, and once when I did it because I was a damned idiot, we’ve never been out of contact. I hope we never are again.”

Smiling, Seven reached over for her hand. “You were a damned idiot,” she said. “But you’ve compensated for it.”

“You’re in each other’s minds all the time? Every minute?”

“Every second,” said Revi. “But that doesn’t mean we’re always listening.”

“I don’t understand.”

Seven listened as Revi turned several images over in her mind, trying to find one that could help her mother envision something that was utterly foreign to her. “All right,” she said at last, “think of it this way. When you and Father are both in the house, are you always talking to each other? Every minute?”

“No, of course not. Half the time we’re not even in the same room.”

: Only half? :

Seven patted her partner’s thigh. : You need to rein in that sarcasm when you link with her. :

: I know. It’s just so automatic. : Aloud, Revi said, “So you’re in the house with him, but you’re not talking. Are you aware that he’s there? Do you hear him moving around the house, or making any sounds, or see him pass by wherever you are?”

“Yes, most of the time. If he’s reading, though, I may not know he’s there unless I walk by and see him.”

“Well, on a physical level, what you experience in being aware of him is very similar to what Seven and I experience on a mental level. We always know the other one is there, but we’re not always talking to each other. Or listening. We inhabit the same mental space, just like you and Father inhabit the same house. But we’re not always in the same room. The main difference is that when you want to talk to Father and he’s in a different room, you have to go and find him. When I want to talk to Seven, it doesn’t matter where she is.”

“I think I see,” said Dhara. “So you’re connected, but you’re not always using the connection.”

“Right,” said Revi in relief.

“But what if you’re talking or thinking about something you’d rather keep to yourself?”

“We don’t have any secrets from each other.”

“Gods above, I can’t imagine living that way.”

: If I were married to him, I wouldn’t be able to imagine it either. :

: Revi! :

: Sorry. : Revi shook her head. : I don’t know if I can keep those thoughts down. :

“But what about surprises?” Dhara was saying. “What do you do about gifts for each other, or special plans?”

“Well, there is one time when we don’t hear each other,” said Revi. “When we’re regenerating.”

“When you’re what?”

She looked over at Seven. “Ah…I think it’ll be easier to explain when we show you the alcoves. Which will be in about two minutes; there’s the Janeway farm.”

 

 

-----

 

 

For the second time in half an hour, a call came from the front of the house. “Gretchen, are you home?”

Gretchen recognized Revi’s voice. It didn’t matter how many times she’d told those two to just come on in, they still insisted on waiting at the door. Revi had said that she couldn’t overcome a lifetime of training just like that, and of course Seven followed Revi’s lead.

“We’re in the kitchen,” she called out. In a lower voice, she asked Lynne, “Will they ever learn Indiana manners?”

Lynne gave her a half smile. “I don’t think so. And I have to tell you that if I weren’t your daughter-in-law, I wouldn’t have learned them either. We didn’t just walk into people’s houses in Colorado.”

“I am not people,” said Gretchen, just as Revi came in sight. Right behind her was a woman she’d never seen before, and Gretchen immediately stood up as the stranger, followed closely by Seven, walked into the kitchen.

“Everyone, this is my mother, Dhara.” Revi looked at Gretchen as she said it, an unspoken apology in her eyes. “Mother, this is Gretchen Janeway, her daughter Phoebe, and my good friend Lynne Hamilton.”

“I’m delighted to meet you.” Gretchen stepped forward with her hand out. “Welcome to my home.”

Dhara was a small woman, shorter and slighter of build than her daughter. But there was no mistaking the family resemblance as she offered a hesitant smile and said, “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m so grateful to you for giving Revi a place to stay.”

“This isn’t a place to stay. That guest house is her home for as long as she and Seven want, and I hope it’s for a long time.” Gretchen looked sternly at both young women as she spoke, and saw that her message had been received. By now Phoebe and Lynne were standing as well, offering words of welcome as they shook hands.

Dhara seemed a little overwhelmed as she greeted Lynne. “I saw you on FedComm,” she said shyly. “What a remarkable story. The odds of Voyager finding you—it’s just amazing.”

“Ordinarily I’d agree with you,” said Lynne, “but when it comes to Kathryn, nothing seems too surprising. She has a habit of beating the odds.” She looked over at Revi. “So does your daughter.”

“I know,” said Dhara, following her glance. “Believe me, I know.”

“Mother has come to link up with me,” said Revi. Gretchen raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t heard a word about this, but from Revi’s behavior it seemed to have substantial meaning.

“Ohh,” said Lynne, who apparently knew what was going on. “Dhara, that’s wonderful. And it couldn’t have been an easy decision. It scared the hell out of me the first time I linked in with Revi and Seven.”

Dhara stared. “You’re one of them, too?” A flush instantly rose in her face. “I’m so sorry, that was inexcusably rude.”

Lynne waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. I left that little detail out of my interviews. Yes, I am, but I was luckier than either Revi or Seven. I don’t carry any visible implants as long as my arms and legs are covered. Anyway, I think you’re really courageous. And I can tell you that they’ll take good care of you. If Seven and Revi hadn’t linked in with me when I needed it, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you.”

Dhara looked at Revi, who shrugged and said, “It was a medical procedure. Nothing like what we’ll be doing.”

“It was a medical procedure that could have killed both of them,” corrected Lynne. “They risked their lives to save me. That’s who you’re going to be linking in with. You couldn’t possibly be any safer.”

“I never thought it wouldn’t be safe,” said Dhara. “Not with Revi. But…I appreciate what you’re trying to do.” She looked around. “Will we be doing it here?”

“No,” said Revi. “I just wanted you to meet them. We’ll be doing this in the guest house, where Seven and I are staying. But first we’re taking a little detour to the barn.”

“The barn?” Dhara asked in confusion.

Lynne grinned. “Let me know if you find any more kittens.”

When the three women left a few minutes later, Gretchen and Phoebe both looked at Lynne expectantly. “What the hell was that all about?” demanded Phoebe. “That woman looked like she was going into brain surgery.”

“That’s probably exactly how she feels,” said Lynne.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 37

 

 

Dhara stood open-mouthed in front of the alcoves. “Gods,” she whispered. “What are they? They look sinister.”

Surprised at the characterization, Seven tried to see them through Dhara’s eyes. Borg design valued efficiency first and foremost, and the alcoves were a perfect example of highly advanced technology built in the most efficient, useful and durable manner. Certainly they weren’t as aesthetic as Starfleet designs, but that didn’t make them sinister.

“They’re regeneration alcoves,” said Revi. “Borg are partly organic and partly cybernetic, and those cybernetic systems need to be recharged on a regular basis. Humans recharge by eating food and drinking fluids; Borg recharge through absorbing pure energy into their systems. It’s called regeneration, and it’s very similar to sleeping.”

“In a way, this is our bedroom,” said Seven.

“You sleep in these? How?”

“We have abdominal implants, which have an external connection that matches a contact on the alcove. Here, I’ll show you.” Revi stepped up to the nearest alcove, gesturing for her mother to follow. Dhara trailed after with an expression of mingled horror and fascination, and bent down to look at the power contact that Revi was pointing out.

“So you touch this and it sends energy into you?” At Revi’s nod, she looked at the contact again. “You have to stand here?”

“Yes. We stand facing outward, because the connection is in the back of our implants.”

“How on earth do you sleep standing up?”

“Well, I said it was similar to sleeping. It’s not actually sleeping. It’s more like a state of suspended animation. The moment we make contact, we shut down.” Revi snapped her fingers. “Just like that. And when the regeneration cycle is complete, we wake back up just the same way.” She snapped her fingers again. “Except that we’re fully recharged, fully awake, and ready to go. No coffee necessary.”

The attempt at humor fell flat; Dhara was too overwhelmed. She kept looking back and forth between Revi and the alcove. “How often do you…regenerate?”

“Usually for eight hours every three nights, but more often if we need to. We can go longer without it, but we start to lose our ability to function. Just like you do if you haven’t had enough sleep. But we sleep, too, the regular way.”

A look of relief washed over Dhara’s face, and Revi caught it. “No, Mother. We’re not machines. We just have a lot of cybernetic parts inside of us.”

“I didn’t say you were.” But she couldn’t tear her eyes off the alcove and the contact Revi had pointed out. Tentatively, she touched it. “You said an abdominal implant. You mean something like what you have over your eye?”

“No. It’s quite a bit larger than that. The abdominal implant performs a huge number of regulatory functions.”

Dhara’s eyes went to Revi’s waistline, hidden beneath the bulky sweater. “Could you…is it something I could see?”

Revi hesitated, and Dhara shook her head. “No, no, I’m sorry. Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Mother,” said Revi gently, “I don’t have any problem with you seeing it. I’m just worried that you might.”

“You are my daughter,” said Dhara with a burst of vehemence. “I will not have a problem seeing anything that’s a part of you.”

: I doubt that. :

Seven did, too, but she also recognized Dhara’s motivation. If there was anything she understood, it was the driving force of a need to know.

: She likely will have a problem. But I believe she needs to see it anyway. :

: I hope you’re right. :  “Okay,” said Revi. “It’s not pretty.” She hiked up her sweater, untucked her undershirt, and lifted both to just beneath her breasts, exposing the black implant that wrapped all the way around her waist. Dhara’s hand went to her mouth as she stared.

“Oh, Revi…”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

“But…gods, it’s so big! They took so much of you. So much…” She shook her head as the tears came to her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Revi lowered her sweater. “I know. It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Physically I’m fine, Mother. Really. They took a lot of my body, but I’m not debilitated. Just the opposite, in fact. Remember that I said this implant regulates a lot of functions?”

Dhara nodded.

“Well, along with the other implants and the nanoprobes, it makes sure I don’t ever get sick. If I’m injured, I heal almost instantly. I can do things with my implants that Human muscles simply aren’t capable of. It’s not what any of us would have chosen, but it’s not all bad.”

Looking at Seven, Dhara asked, “Do you have this…this abdominal implant, too?”

“Yes. All Borg do.”

“So Lynne has it as well.”

“No,” said Revi. “Lynne was a special case. When we freed her from the Collective, her implants were self-destructing. They would have killed her if we hadn’t pulled them out. She has fewer implants than either Seven or me.”

“Wait—so you could take this out if you wanted to?”

Revi sighed. : She wants so much for this to be fixable. :  “No, I couldn’t,” she said. “Lynne barely survived the surgery, and she’d only had the implant for three days. I’ve had this for almost eleven years. My biological systems are completely, irrevocably tied into it. I need it to live. So does Seven.”

Dhara said nothing for a moment. Then, in a very quiet voice, she asked, “Can I see it again?”

“Of course. Do you want to feel it?” Revi lifted her sweater again. “It’s all right if you do.”

Seven watched Dhara swallow with some difficulty as she reached out and barely brushed her fingertips across the smooth surface of the lower implant. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, and she touched it with slightly more confidence.

“It’s warm!”

“It’s part of my body. Wouldn’t do my organic systems any good to have a cold sink sitting in the middle of them.”

Revi’s matter-of-fact attitude was having an effect; Seven could see Dhara beginning to relax her posture. : I think it’s working. :

: I think so too. : They had discussed this prior to picking up Dhara at the transport station, and concluded that it would be better to get her accustomed to the reality of Revi’s Borgness before initiating the link. As Revi had said, better to shock her in the familiar confines of her own mind than to shock her in the foreign space of an interlink. But they had planned simply to show her the alcoves and talk about how they’d incorporated their Borg needs into their daily lives. Neither of them had anticipated that Dhara would want such a personal exposure.

Dhara was venturing further now, running her fingers over the implant’s ridges. When Revi squirmed, she pulled her hand back as if she’d burned it. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry!”

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” Revi was smiling. “It just tickles.”

“It tickles?”

“It’s not a hunk of metal alloy, Mother. It’s a sensitive, incredibly advanced cybernetic implant.”

“And it tickles.” With an incredulous smile, Dhara feathered her fingers down the ridges again, and this time Revi laughed out loud as she stepped away and pulled her sweater down.

“Okay, that’s enough for you,” she said. “Didn’t take you long to take advantage!”

Dhara’s smile was a blinding contrast to the expressions that Seven had previously seen on her face. “I can’t believe it. That’s astonishing. What other implants do you have?”

“Well, there’s one in my head. It’s called a cortical implant, and it’s pretty much like having the entire Federation database sitting in my brain. Except this database contains information from about eight thousand species.”

“Gods above. I can’t even comprehend it.”

“It is pretty amazing,” Revi conceded. “That’s one of my Borg leftovers that I’d hate to lose. I also have a lot of internal implants that either regulate or replace most of my internal organs, and provide structural support to my skeleton and muscles. There are a few other external implants you haven’t seen yet. And, ah…there’s my arm.”

“Your arm.” Dhara looked from one to the other, but saw nothing out of the ordinary because Revi was wearing her simulated skin glove. “One of them has an implant? Like Seven’s hand?”

“No. This might be the hardest thing for you to see, Mother. One of my arms is an implant. It’s entirely cybernetic.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

Revi lifted her arm and slowly pulled off the glove, exposing the clamp at the end. Then she pushed up her sleeve. Dhara’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the full length of metal alloy, cybernetic mesh, and embedded tools.

“I was a medical and repair drone in the Collective,” said Revi. “So I was outfitted with an arm that enabled me to make repairs to cybernetic systems, and perform surgeries on organic systems. This arm is half the tools in a sickbay and an engineering bay all rolled up into one.”

“Oh, Revi…”

“It’s all right. This actually is something I could replace if I wanted to. I did it for Lynne. But I haven’t decided if I want to lose this yet. It gives me capabilities as a doctor that I would never have with a normal Human prosthetic.”

“Lynne had an arm like that?”

“Not precisely like this, but yes.”

They could see Dhara struggling to hide her reaction. Nothing else she’d seen so far had shaken her as much as Revi’s arm.

Seven stepped up and took Revi’s clamp in her own hand. : Hold on, : she warned. Running her fingers along the arm, she found the spot on the inside of the elbow where the rigid exoskeleton gave way to a thin mesh, enabling the joint to bend. As her fingers danced across the mesh, Revi smiled.

: Good thinking, darling. : But even though Revi knew what she was doing, she still couldn’t stop the involuntary reaction as she tried to pull away. Seven kept a tight grip and continued to tickle her, until Revi was squirming. “Okay, okay, stop!” she cried, laughing.

Dhara was watching in amazement. “That’s ticklish too?”

“Only here.” Still holding Revi’s clamp, Seven turned her arm out so that Dhara could see the mesh. “The rest of the arm is an exoskeleton. But it thins here where the joint bends. It took me considerable time to discover Revi’s sensitivity here.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to tell you about it. I knew you’d use it against me.”

Dhara’s expression had relaxed again. “May I?”

“Certainly.” Seven released her grip, stepping back to give Dhara room. Hesitantly, Dhara took the outstretched clamp in her own hand and exhaled.

“It’s warm too,” she said, in the tone of one whose worst fears have gone unrealized.

“And it’s capable of extremely fine motion,” said Revi. “Will you hold out your hand?” When Dhara complied, Revi opened her clamp and brushed one of the tips across the upturned palm, barely making contact with the skin.

“Oh,” murmured Dhara.

Gently, Revi grasped her mother’s hand in her clamp and lifted it up to her own cheek, letting her feel the warm, very Human skin. “I’m still me,” she said.

A smile trembled on Dhara’s lips even as her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she whispered, cupping her daughter’s cheek. “I don’t know how you knew what I needed.”

“I just thought about what I’d need in your place.”

Dhara left her hand where it was. “You put up that invincible front, but you’re still my Revi inside.”

Seven winced. It was the wrong thing to say, and Revi’s face closed down as she took a half-step back. “I wish that were true.”

“Of course it’s true! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because I’m—” Revi stopped and shook her head. “This is exactly the conversation we need to be having in the interlink. I don’t want to get into it here. So I guess it’s time. Shall we go to the house?”

Dhara was clearly puzzled and unhappy about the withdrawal, but she merely nodded. “That’s what I came for. I’m ready.”

: I’m not. : Revi turned and led them out. It was a quiet walk over to the guest house, and this time Dhara made no effort to break the silence. Not a word was said until they were in the living room, where Revi motioned her mother to the sofa and then opened the medkit on the table. Pulling out a tricorder, she began scanning her.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m checking you for any physical issues that might become a problem during our link,” said Revi. “We’re not doing this if there’s any possible danger for you.”

“I’m perfectly healthy.”

“I can see that.” Snapping the tricorder shut, Revi tossed it back into the medkit and hesitated before taking out the external transceiver. “Are you still certain you want to continue?”

“Are you?”

“Not really, but I think we have to.”

“Interesting,” said Dhara. “I thought I was the reluctant one. Is there something about this interlink that you’re not telling me?”

“About a million things, yes, but you won’t understand any of them until you’re in it.” Revi paused, gathering herself, and then forged ahead. “All right. When you first come online, it’s going to be difficult for you to communicate with us. We’ve had a long time to learn thought clarification, and how to read thoughts that aren’t so clear. What you’ll need to do is think in full sentences, like you’re talking in your head. If you don’t, we’ll just hear a jumble. Seven and I have had time to get used to each other’s thought processes, so we don’t always need that kind of clarity to understand each other, but it will be different with you.”

“All right. I’ll do my best.”

“If you want to share memories as well as thoughts, try to remember them like a story, so that they’re coherent. Otherwise we’ll see the disjointed images and it will be harder for us to put them together.”

“Okay.”

“And remember that this is only temporary, and as soon as we terminate the link, it’s over.”

A small smile appeared. “I said I’m ready.”

“Right.” Having no other reasons to delay, Revi sat on the couch beside her, while Seven chose the chair opposite in order to see them both clearly. Holding up the transceiver, Revi said, “If you get overwhelmed, we’ll know and we’ll stop the process. You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“Everything about this makes me uncomfortable, and I think you’re feeling just the same way,” said Dhara. “That’s not the point.”

Seven was startled to hear the words come out of her mouth. That had sounded exactly like Revi.

: Well, she is my mother. :

: Yes, but the question is whether you absorbed that from her, or whether she absorbed it from you. :

“All right,” said Revi. “I’m attaching the transceiver. It’s going here on the back of your neck. Can you lift your hair?” A moment later a soft snick indicated the molecular adhesion, and Dhara’s eyes widened. “And I’m activating it…now.”

Once before, they had brought an untrained mind into their link. Lynne’s first time had been difficult for all three of them, though it had been because of their shared memories and not Lynne’s ability to focus. It had only taken her a few minutes to adapt to the different form of communication.

Dhara floundered. The moment she came online, she brought a tumult of emotions with her and no clear thoughts at all. Though both Seven and Revi had been prepared for the emotional onslaught, and had raised their own blocks in preparation, they still felt buffeted. Dhara was afraid of the link, even as it excited her—and then she felt shame about her excitement. Revi wasn’t surprised by this, since her father would have forbidden this activity had he known, and her mother wasn’t in the habit of going against him. What did surprise her was the fascinated wonder that flowed from Dhara; an awe at the mere fact of their mental connection. There was no resistance at all, even with the fear of what might be shared—willingly or unwillingly—in the coming moments. Dhara had prepared for this; she had memories she wanted to share. And from the jumble of partial thoughts that were pouring from her mind, Revi and Seven could pick out her belief that none of her memories absolutely had to remain hidden, though she was certainly hoping that such a complete exchange would not occur. Still, she had come into this prepared for the worst, despite Revi’s assurance that they would not attempt to see anything beyond what she wished to show them. Revi had expected the lack of trust, but she was taken aback that her mother would have overcome it by simply deciding she had nothing to hide.

What frightened Dhara the most, beyond the mere fact of doing something so utterly foreign, was seeing memories from Revi that would hurt her. Yet in that fear she was thinking not of Revi’s childhood, but of what had happened after she had stopped coming home: her marriage, a life she’d lived without ever telling her parents…and, of course, her assimilation and years as a Borg.

All of this and more swirled through their link as Seven and Revi worked together to tamp down Dhara’s nervousness and her overabundance of emotions, as well as reminding her to focus on a single thought and say it in her mind. Their efforts gradually began to take effect, until the first complete thought finally came through.

: You’re both so clear in my mind. Why aren’t you hearing me? What am I doing wrong? :

: We are now, Mother. We just couldn’t separate out any single thought until now. :

: Oh! You heard me! :

: You’re doing fine, : Seven assured her. : You’re adapting. :

: I can feel you. It’s like you’ve been holding my hand. Incredible. This is simply amazing! : Her communication degenerated into another burst of partial thoughts as her excitement at being heard overwhelmed her ability to focus.

: Mother, think in sentences! :

After a few moments, Dhara calmed herself enough to regain her clarity. : I’m sorry. It’s just so exciting. I never had any idea. Gods, to think you live this way all the time! :

: Not all the time. We’re usually a bit calmer than this. :

: Of course you are. I’m trying, really. I never realized how hard it is to think in sentences. :

: It may be simpler if you focus more on the thoughts and less on the emotions, : offered Seven. : Accept that you feel them, and then set them aside. :

This seemed to help, or perhaps Dhara was adapting to the new experience, but her emotions did become a little less tumultuous. Then they saw an image in her mind: the two of them standing on Dhara’s doorstep seven days ago. It was accompanied by a burst of remembered joy, followed swiftly by dismay and sorrow as a second image followed, of Revi stalking back out of the living room with Seven in tow.

: Did you see it? :

It was Seven who responded, as Revi was still startled by what her mother had just shared.

: Yes, we did. And felt what you felt. :

: It worked! : The thought was crystal clear; Dhara’s sense of success had momentarily helped her to focus. : That was much easier than communicating in verbal thoughts. :

: Images are interpreted by a different part of your brain than verbal thoughts. : Revi took refuge in anatomy.

: I guess that makes sense. Perhaps I’m better at pictures than words. : The thought pattern veered. : You’re…surprised? That I would be happy to see you? Is that—am I getting that right? :

With an audible sigh, Revi confirmed her mother’s guess. : Yes, you’re getting it right. I just didn’t expect that. :

“But why?” asked Dhara. A flash of embarrassment shot through their link as she realized she’d spoken aloud, but it was quickly followed by a sense of relief. “I think I should just talk. It’s so much harder to communicate the way you do, and the gods know we don’t need any more barriers between us. It’s enough that I can feel what you feel.”

Seven shot a glance at Revi. Dhara was giving up on her first try? Did she not see that the enhanced thought communication was just as superior as the enhanced image and emotional communication? Not being accustomed to such rapid defeatism, she could not control her instant contempt. No one on Voyager would simply give up on something because it was not easy enough.

“Revi!” Though Dhara kept the hurt off her face, it was clear in her emotions. “How can you judge me? Of all people, you should know how difficult it was for me to even come here!”

Caught between responding to her mother’s misperception and not wanting to expose Seven, Revi could only look at Dhara in dismay.

“That wasn’t Revi,” said Seven, who had no competing motivations. “You were sensing me.”

Dhara’s hurt instantly shifted to irritation. “I see.”

“Okay, this is already not going well,” Revi muttered.

“You’re a rather intolerant young woman, aren’t you?” asked Dhara with some asperity. “Is that from being raised as a Borg?”

“How ironic that you would use the term ‘intolerant’ after—”

“Hold it!” Revi held up her arms, one palm toward her mother and the clamp toward Seven. “This is not working. Seven, Mother is not Starfleet and this is completely out of her range of experience. You can’t hold her to the standards you’re used to. Mother, you’re in an interlink and that means you feel everything, good and bad. And the first thing you learn in an interlink is that people have all kinds of emotions flitting through their minds, and you can’t judge them by what they think or feel because those things can’t really be controlled. You have to judge by what they say and do.”

“Then what is the point—” Dhara stopped, took a breath, and continued more calmly, “Then I think perhaps we should limit this to you and me, since I am not going to be able to distinguish who is feeling what. Not to be discourteous to Seven, but what matters to me is what you think and feel.”

“I’m not cutting Seven out of the link,” said Revi instantly. “It’s out of the question.”

By now Seven was feeling guilty at having instigated a disagreement almost before they’d even begun. “I don’t want to impede this process,” she said.

: Don’t you even think about it! : Revi was alarmed at the very prospect. : I can’t do this without you. :

“Perhaps,” Seven continued with a reassuring glance at her partner, “I can simply block my emotions from the link.”

: Oh. : Revi smiled sheepishly. “That might be a good idea.”

“You can do that?”

Seven looked over to Dhara. “Yes. Revi taught me the skill shortly after we met.”

“But we haven’t had to use it in a while,” said Revi. “I’ve nearly forgotten how.”

Seven accepted the obvious lie as an attempt at humor, knowing Revi’s need to defuse tense situations. “Fortunately, you’re not the one who needs to remember.”

Dhara looked back and forth between them, her eyebrows slightly scrunched. “I can’t even keep up with what you two are thinking. But I can feel a sort of…smoothness between you. It’s interesting.” She turned to face Seven fully. “I apologize for speaking so sharply. It was…unkind.”

Seven hesitated. She wasn’t at all sorry for her reaction; she really did think less of Dhara for giving up on mental communication so soon. It was not something she would have expected of the woman who had raised Revi. But… “I apologize as well,” she said. “I didn’t mean for my judgment to cause any difficulties for you or Revi. I’m shielding my emotions from the link now.” It took considerably more effort than she remembered, and she thought ruefully that she was out of practice.

: We both are, darling. That’s the way I like it. : Revi shot her a quick smile before turning back to her mother. “Okay, that should make things a little simpler. And for the record, Mother, I definitely know how hard it must have been for you to come here. Thank you for coming.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, as each of them waited for the other to take the next step. At last Dhara said, “You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Why would you be surprised that I’d be happy to see you on my doorstep?”

“Ah…” Revi nervously rubbed an invisible spot on her arm. “You know, I was kind of hoping we could ease into this a bit more before getting into the hard part.”

Frowning, Dhara said, “I guess I don’t understand why this part should be so hard. After thinking you were dead and having you miraculously come back home, why wouldn’t I be happy? You looked like all my dreams come true.”

Revi began to speak, then closed her mouth and shook her head. : I can’t say that. :

“Can’t say what? Yes, I heard you. I may not be any good at ‘talking’ in my head, but I can hear you perfectly well. And wasn’t the whole point of this to not keep anything back? To clear the air?”

Revi looked over in frustration, but there was nothing Seven could do to help. Revi could not pull back from uncomfortable questions unless she put an end to the entire process. And that, Seven knew, would feel like a failure to her. She’d started something that she now had to finish.

With a quick glance of wry acknowledgment, Revi turned back to her mother. “Yes, it was. You’re right. It’s just hard for me to say things that I know are going to hurt you.”

Even the mention of the word caused a shiver of anticipatory pain through Dhara’s emotions. “Go ahead. Just do it. If we don’t get through this, you’ll leave and that will hurt me far more.” She steeled herself and waited.

Her attitude made it even more difficult for Revi, who spent several seconds working up to the effort. “I almost didn’t come home,” she said at last. “I didn’t want to put myself in that position again.”

“What position?” asked Dhara, gamely ignoring the sharp hurt that Revi’s very first sentence had already caused.

Revi paused, already regretting her words, and Dhara shook her head. “Don’t you stop. It’s taken too long to get to this point.”

Seven was unaccustomed to seeing her partner so uncertain. Unable to withstand the physical distance, she got up from her chair and came over to sit on the coffee table, reaching out for Revi’s hand. With a grateful thought sent in her direction, Revi said, “Of being back in the battle. Of fighting with Father, and feeling alone because you wouldn’t defend me. I’m surprised that you were so happy to see me because frankly, I never realized you cared that much.”

Dhara sucked in a breath, but held herself back as Revi added, “I stopped visiting you after I married Steph because I just couldn’t do it anymore. And it’s even worse now. I don’t have any tolerance left for it.”

She stopped, looking at her mother somewhat anxiously. But Dhara’s only response was, “I see.”

: No, you don’t. :

Dhara heard it. “No,” she said. “You’re right. I don’t see how you could possibly not know that I love you, and I don’t see how you could view us in such an adversarial way. We are your parents. Do you know how hard it was on your father when Starfleet told us you were killed in action? He broke down and cried, Revi. He wept for you. Yes, he argues with you, but that doesn’t change how he feels about you.”

“And how does he feel, exactly?”

“He loves you!” Dhara spoke as if Revi’s question had been rhetorical, and her firm belief surged through their link.

Revi shook her head. “Sorry, Mother. I’m not buying it, no matter how much you’re ready to sell.” Her own belief was just as firm, and utterly untouched by her mother’s emotion.

“Agh!” Dhara threw her hands up. “Then tell me exactly how I’m supposed to convince you?”

“I don’t think you can.” Revi looked at her thoughtfully. “I didn’t know what to expect when you agreed to my offer, but now I see that it doesn’t matter what you say or even think about him. Your view isn’t accurate. You really do believe what you’re saying, but it’s just not true. I think you’ve made yourself believe it. You had to.”

Dhara was speechless. “I had to?” she managed at last. “Do you have any idea how arrogant that sounds?”

“Yes. But I’m not saying this as your daughter. I’m saying it as a doctor.” Revi was warming up now, finding confidence by separating herself from the topic. “For reasons I’ll never understand, you chose to stay with him. But you were raised with the old beliefs, where the husband is supposed to be the infallible, wise, loving head of the family. Your husband was none of those things. So to justify your staying, to make it more emotionally feasible, you had to convince yourself that he was. Gods, why didn’t I ever think of this before? It makes so much more sense.”

“Oh, no no no.” Dhara shook her head vehemently. “That is not the case. I know damn well your father isn’t infallible. He is capable of wisdom, though not very often, and he most certainly is not good at showing his love. I may make excuses for him, but I am not blind. How could I be, when I spent so many years trying to fix the problems between you and him? The number of times I had to hold you and talk you through it after you and he disagreed—”

“Disagreed?” Revi’s incredulity made Seven wince, and even Dhara stopped cold, her eyes wide. “Disagreed? Is that what you called it all these years? ‘Oh, there’s Nishad shouting at Revi in her room again; they must be having another of their disagreements.’ Well, now I know why you never protected me. How much protection could I possibly need when all we were having was a disagreement?” Her voice dripped sarcasm, but the pain behind it pierced the link and left Dhara blinking in confusion.

“Where does this come from?” she said. “I honestly don’t understand! I thought this interlink of yours would make everything clear, but I’m just as much in the dark as ever. Blessed gods, so much hurt, and from what? From your father shouting at you? Do you think you were the only child in the world whose father spoke in loud tones?”

Revi stared at her in astonishment. “You really don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t!”

“How—” Revi turned to Seven, her eyes beseeching. : I don’t know what to do. Seven, it’s not possible that she wouldn’t know. It’s just not. :

Rarely in her life had Seven felt so helpless. Revi was her guide in the intricacies of Human emotions, but she’d lost her own way and was looking to Seven for help. It was a reversal of roles that was as frightening as it was unexpected.

She clasped Revi’s hand in hers again, noting that it was two point three degrees cooler than normal, and said what needed to be said. “Dhara, Revi’s pain comes from having a father who verbally and physically abused her, and a mother who never stopped it.”

Dhara’s jaw dropped. For just a moment they felt her fear, but it was almost instantly overpowered by a blast of denial. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not true.”

Revi jerked her hand from Seven’s grasp as she sat up straight. “What do you mean, it’s not true?”

“He didn’t, Revi. Unless you consider a father raising his voice to his child to be verbal abuse. If that’s the case, then verbal abuse is positively rampant; practically every child in the universe could claim it. And he certainly did not abuse you physically. He disciplined you, yes, but that is not the same thing. I think perhaps you might be misinterpreting some childhood memories.”

“Unbelievable,” breathed Revi. “Absolutely unbelievable. Misinterpreting childhood memories? How about I share some of those with you so you can see for yourself?”

Without waiting for an answer, she sent a series of images down the link. In every one of them, her mother stood silent while her father was red-faced and angry, sometimes shouting, sometimes lecturing in a tone dripping with condescension or outright dislike. And then the memories began to include him slapping her face, grabbing her wrist hard enough to bruise, shoving her in the back so that she stumbled as she hurried in front of him to her room, and finally an image of him slipping his belt out of its loops and winding the buckle end around his hand—

“Enough!” said Dhara. “I know. I remember. It’s true that you and your father had a difficult relationship, I’m not denying that. But you needed the discipline. Verbal reprimands stopped working when you hit your teen years. You were too willful; we worried about losing control of you. But your memories of those times—you’re seeing them through the eyes of a child.”

“Mother, I’m a doctor! Do you think I don’t know enough about memory engrams and regression to recognize what’s real and what’s not?”

“I don’t doubt your professional abilities. But you’re not being a professional right now. This is too personal.”

“You’re damn right it is!”

Ignoring the anger that would have been obvious even without an interlink, Dhara said in a voice of forced calm, “Let me show you what I remember from those times. And I’ll apologize in advance if I can’t send the images as clearly as you can.”

Seven closed her eyes, fascinated by the memories Dhara was now sharing. She needn’t have apologized; they were crystal clear—and markedly different from Revi’s. Nishad shouted and lectured, but never with the condescension or dislike that Revi remembered. There was frustration and anger, certainly, but also bewilderment and sometimes despair that nothing he did was getting through to his daughter. There were even memories of him talking to Dhara as they lay in bed together afterward, wishing that Revi would just comply and stop making it so hard for him.

“I know he slapped you, and I’m not saying it was right. It’s just that sometimes his frustration got the better of him. But he only used the belt a few times, and he felt so terrible afterwards. I think it hurt him almost as much as y—”

“Fucking hell!” Revi’s shocked fury was explosive. “How could you never have heard? He used the belt more than just a few times, and he didn’t always wrap the buckle end around his hand!”

The images came in a tumbling, disordered rush; Revi had lost her mental discipline. Over and over, they saw different scenes of Nishad advancing into Revi’s bedroom, his face set in a grim mask as he slipped out his belt and wrapped it so that the buckle end swung on a short length of free belt. They saw the anger in his eyes as he wielded it, and they felt Revi’s remembered terror and pain. In some memories she tried to get away, in others she simply gave up and curled into a ball, protecting her head and face. They saw Nishad looking down at her, saying Maybe this time it’ll sink in!, and Revi staring at her tear-stained face in the bathroom mirror as she reached for the dermal regenerator and began sealing the red slashes on her body.

Dhara recoiled in horror. “No! He didn’t, he didn’t do that, I never saw a mark on you. I would have known.”

“Because I never left the room until I’d healed them all, and I always wore long pants and sleeves until they faded! I can’t make up memories, Mother. You know it’s the truth.”

Dhara denied it, she wouldn’t believe it, she couldn’t accept it, but Revi bombarded her with the images in a cathartic blast of pain and rage and humiliation, the memories and emotions pouring out in an unending stream that continued even after Seven dropped her emotional block and stepped in. This was precisely the loss of control Revi had been afraid of, and Seven was nearly overwhelmed by it. She surrounded her partner with love, protection, calm and peace, hearing Dhara’s distress outside the wall she’d built for Revi but finding herself unable to take care of both of them at once. A choice between Dhara and Revi was no choice at all, and Seven put everything she had into bringing Revi back to a safe place.

At last Revi stopped, finally hearing her, allowing herself to be soothed by a continuous message of love and safety. But Dhara had no such message to help her, and she wept as she admitted her own failure. She was swamped by horror, guilt and shame, apologizing over and over because she should have known, but hadn’t seen it.

By the time Revi was calm enough to register her mother’s pain, her natural empathy reasserted itself in response. But she still needed the explanation she’d lacked all her adult life.

“You abandoned me,” she said, her voice rough from the emotion. Dhara shook her head emphatically, the tears rolling down her face, but Revi put a hand on her leg and willed her to meet her eyes. “Every single time it happened I prayed for that door to open behind him. I prayed for you to walk in and make him stop. You never did. So I gave up on you. I gave up on both of you. The one thing that always hurt more than anything else was that I never understood why he didn’t love me at all, and why you didn’t love me enough to protect me.”

“I do, gods, you’re my only child…”

“I know, Mother. That part I know now, and it helps, it really does. But it makes me more confused than ever. How could you love me like that and leave me to him? I don’t understand. Why didn’t you ever come?”

“Because I didn’t know…”

“You should have! You know it, I can feel it. Explain this to me, please! Mother!” Revi’s voice broke on a sob. “How could you love me and abandon me?”

Dhara was nearly incapable of answering, the emotions swamping her ability to think coherently. Her reality had been shattered and what she’d known as truth was now thrown into doubt. But there was one truth that she clung to, one that stood firm among the wreckage of the rest. She wiped her eyes and said, “If I had ever thought you were in danger, I would never have left you alone. But I didn’t believe it was possible, because I knew how much he loved you.”

Revi met that with an unassailable wall of denial, honed by a lifetime of conviction. But now Dhara understood the power of shared images, and she gladly turned to the certainty of memories that to her were incontestable. These were the memories she had prepared in advance, the ones that would show Revi a different side of her father. And as she took them through a tour of family images, she began to recover her balance.

They saw Nishad’s immense pride and delight in his beautiful new baby girl, and watched him doting on her every giggle and smile. They saw him grinning with delight when she took her first steps, playing with her, putting her to sleep and staring down at her with adoration written all over his face. And then they saw a memory of an event that Revi had never known about—a childhood case of the Ankarian flu that had affected her lungs, filling them with fluid as fast as the hospital could safely pump it out. They saw Nishad pacing in her hospital room, sleeping in the cot beside her bed, reacting angrily to Dhara when she’d tried to get him to go home for a few hours of rest, and then breaking down into tears as he admitted his fear of losing his daughter.

Revi was stunned at the image of her father crying for her. But her armor reassembled itself quickly. “All right, so now I know he loved me when I was too young to talk back to him. That didn’t last.”

“It lasted all your life,” Dhara said with determination. More memories came through the link, of Nishad beaming with pride as Revi brought home top grades from her schools, and telling her You can do anything you set your mind to. You’re smarter than the rest. He glowed as he sat in the audience, watching her graduate from medical school, wanting to hug her afterward and tell her how he felt, but not knowing how. They saw the same pride when she finished her Starfleet Academy command program, a memory that startled Revi.

“He hated my decision to join Starfleet! He never missed a chance to tell me I was making a mistake.”

“He really thought you were. But it was your dream, and you made it happen. He was always proud of you for pursuing your dreams.”

Still resistant, Revi said, “He was proud because my accomplishments reflected well on him. That’s not love.”

But Dhara wasn’t done yet. She shared a memory of standing behind Nishad when he opened their front door to see two Starfleet officers in dress uniforms waiting on their steps. They saw him in the living room as the officers gravely informed them that their daughter had been killed in action at Wolf 359, and they saw him afterwards, drinking himself into a stupor and telling Dhara to leave him alone. But she had checked in on him, worried more for him than for herself at the time, and one of the times she tiptoed to the study she found him sitting on the floor, his empty glass beside him, holding a photograph of Revi in his hand and talking to her image as he cried. He begged her not to be dead, to make it all some sort of mistake or misunderstanding. When Dhara came into the room he looked up at her, the tears coursing down his cheeks, and said I wish it had been me.

“I can’t do this anymore,” said Revi suddenly. In one swift motion she deactivated the transceiver and pulled it off her mother’s neck, holding it in her fist as she slumped against the couch. “It’s too much.”

Dhara seemed momentarily dazed, but she shook it off and faced her daughter. “I am so sorry. I honestly didn’t know. Not consciously. But I think…I think maybe I knew subconsciously. I just couldn’t accept it. But whatever he did, the fact remains that he loves you. Your father loves you.”

Revi looked at her in silence, then shook her head. “Maybe he does after all. And in some ways that actually makes it worse.” She tossed the transceiver on the coffee table. “Gods, I have a headache.”

“Me too,” said Dhara, rubbing her temples. “Is that normal?”

With a humorless laugh, Revi said, “Considering what we’ve just done? I’m surprised our heads are still attached.” She leaned forward, reaching for the medkit, and pulled out a hypospray. “I already had this loaded, just in case.”

Dhara tilted her head, accepting the injection, then watched as Revi injected herself. “What do we do now?” she asked.

Revi closed the medkit. “Now you go home.”

“What? Revi, please—we have to talk about this. Don’t shut me out now, I’ve just learned the truth and I don’t know how to deal with it!”

In a tired voice, Revi said, “Join the club, Mother. I have absolutely no idea what to do with the concept of a father who loved me but hurt me, and a mother who loved me but turned a blind eye. I thought that I could handle this, but it turns out I can’t. I’m sorry. Seven?”

“Revi—”

But Revi was already getting up off the couch, and Seven moved aside to give her room. “I’m sorry as well,” she said. “Revi has had enough.”

“But there’s still so much to say!”

“Not today,” said Revi. She paused, then half turned, not quite meeting her mother’s eyes as she added, “Thank you for coming. I know it was hard, and I appreciate the courage it took for you to do this.”

Dhara wiped an errant tear. “I’m starting to think my courage came too late.”

At this, Revi met her gaze directly. “Better late than never. Father will always be a coward, won’t he?”

Without another word she turned again and walked out of the living room. Dhara’s shoulders slumped as she gazed after her.

“Will she come back?”

Seven understood that the question was not literal. “I don’t believe you’ve finished your conversation yet,” she said. “But I don’t know when she’ll be ready again.”

Dhara nodded slowly. “No, I think this conversation has just started.” Looking up with red-rimmed eyes, she said, “Will you tell her that I’m not giving up on her?”

Though Seven knew Revi had already heard, she said, “Yes. I will.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 38

 

 

Evening found Alison still in her office. It was a good thing she had no personal life, because the way things were going, she now had two full-time jobs. During the day she was a CEO, and in the evenings she became a fund manager. But the pieces were starting to fall into place now, and she was actually beginning to enjoy it. It helped that both of her jobs had a mathematical basis at their heart.

She heard a tap on her door and looked up to see Ben poking his head in her office. “Dr. Necheyev? I didn’t get a chance to clean here last night; do you want me to now?”

Her first instinct was to say no, but she’d been working steadily for two hours and decided that she could use a break. “Sure, Ben,” she said. “Let me just get out of your way.”

He ducked back out as she saved her work and powered down the holoprojector. After a quick stop at the replicator for a glass of soda water, she walked out the door and found him waiting patiently by his cart. “It’s all yours,” she said.

“No, it’s yours,” he said. “I just borrow it for a few minutes.” With cleaning tools in both hands, he gave her a smiling nod and vanished through her door. Left to her own devices, she wandered down the hall with her soda water, heading for the only other occupied office.

“Commander?” she said from the open doorway.

Commander Tuvok looked up from his work. “Dr. Necheyev. I see you keep Vulcan hours.”

“I keep insane hours. Is that Vulcan?”

He raised an eyebrow. “That would depend upon your point of reference. Is there something I can help you with?”

“No. Sorry, I know I’m interrupting, but my office is being cleaned right now and I needed a breather. If you’re busy I’ll just head down to the lobby.”

“Please stay,” he said. “In truth I could use your assistance. Do you have access to any of the earlier versions of the slipstream drive final report?”

She shook her head. “We don’t have any other versions. That report was written by Dr. Trallek and sent to us from his lab on Ipsen Prime. We don’t do any editing of the reports from our grantees; that’s their responsibility.”

Steepling his fingers in front of him, he said, “I can find no evidence of tampering with that report, even down to the level of the underlying data blocks. Therefore, any changes to it must have been made in prior versions. Are you absolutely certain that the Foundation has had no access to any other version of this report?”

“I’m absolutely certain. I can get you interim reports, but I don’t think that will help since they don’t contain nearly the same information, and none of those were ever sent to Voyager.” A thought struck. “I have no idea if it would make a difference, but we do have the proceedings from last year’s conference. All of the grantees make presentations of their work once a year at our conference, and they submit an abstract prior to the event. It’s not a full report, but since it was done at the end of the research project, it’s the only prior version of anything close to it.”

His gaze grew more intent. “I would like very much to see that abstract.”

“That’s simple enough.” She indicated his terminal. “May I?”

“Of course.” He stood and presented his chair to her.

“Thank you.” Stepping around the desk, she sat down and quickly signed into the terminal. A moment later she accessed the proceedings, entered Trallek’s name, and pulled the abstract up on the screen. “Here we go.”

Tuvok bent over the terminal, reading with her. Within the short word limit of all the abstracts, Dr. Trallek had described the object of his research, an extremely simple overview of the findings to date, and a one-sentence indication of the direction his future studies would take. It was this sentence that sent a chill down Alison’s spine.

Future research will focus on the issue of phase variance and how existing or developing technology may be used to neutralize it.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “It’s been here all this time. There never was a mousetrap.”

“Indeed there was,” said Tuvok. “I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that between the conference and the final report, this little detail vanished. I do, however, believe it is time to contact Dr. Trallek.”

Alison was staring at the screen in disbelief. “Commander, I attended Dr. Trallek’s presentation. He never said this. He never even mentioned the phase variance.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m positive! Believe me, I would have remembered when the subject came up later!” She looked up as he straightened. “I don’t understand it. Why would he change his findings?”

“I look forward to asking him that very question. Are you certain you would remember? I only ask because you did not recall this phrase in his abstract.”

“I probably never read it, or if I did, I just skimmed it. Those conferences are a madhouse for me. Five days of non-stop circulation and listening to scientists pitching their new proposals and maybe, if I can get away, managing to attend a presentation here and there. I’m more likely to choose which presentations to attend by what time they’re being given, not by their content.”

“Who else from the Foundation attends these conferences? Specifically, any of the board members?”

“The entire board takes part in the opening banquet. That’s more of a social event than a scientific one. Other than that, I rarely see any of them at the conference itself.”

“To your memory, did any of the board not attend the banquet at this conference?”

She gave it some thought, then shook her head. “No, they were all there. It would be unusual for any of them not to attend.”

“Then do you recall in particular whether you saw any of them at the conference itself?”

“Kirabo was there on the first day, and Carlos. Certainly none of the officers.”

He looked at the monitor again. “Shall we see what time it is at the lab?” Picking up his PADD, he downloaded the abstract with its contact data, then switched over to a Federation timebase, checked the result, and shook his head. “It’s 0300 hours there. We’ll get no answers now.” He paused, tapping one finger absently on the PADD. “Perhaps it’s just as well. On further consideration, I think it best to speak with Dr. Trallek in person. Thank you for your assistance, Dr. Necheyev. I must return to Starfleet Headquarters and arrange transportation.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“There is no need, though I appreciate your offer.”

She walked him to the lift anyway, wishing him good fortune just before the doors shut. Slowly she turned and made her way back down the opposite hall, passing Ben’s cart two doors from her office. Good, he was done. She headed to her desk, her mind buzzing with the implications and possible explanations of Dr. Trallek’s mysterious deletion.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you.”

Alison let out a squeak of surprise, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at the visitor sitting at her conference table. “God in heaven, you scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” said Elise. “I really didn’t mean to. You were lost in thought.”

“What are you doing here?” Surprise and the aftermath of fear gave her voice an edge, and Elise clearly caught it. Her easy manner vanished.

“I was taking you up on your promise,” she said, indicating a stasis bag on the table. “But perhaps I’ve come at a bad time. Ben knows I’m here; he said you’d only be gone a few minutes. I promise I haven’t touched anything.”

Her contrite attitude made Alison feel instantly guilty. She looked more closely at the bag and felt guiltier yet. “Guo Gao's?”

“Chicken pad thai. It’s all yours, on one condition.”

“What’s that?” asked Alison as she walked across to the table.

“You have to eat it, not decorate me with it.”

Now feeling two centimeters tall, Alison sat down next to her. “Elise—it’s my turn to apologize.” She held up her hand as Elise began to shake her head. “No, it is. I didn’t do it last night and I’m overdue now. I’m sorry for hurting you, and especially for the things I said afterward. I was…harsh. And it’s not my place to judge you or anyone else. I seem to be making a habit of that lately.”

“I accept your apology for the first part,” said Elise. “Even though it wasn’t your fault. But for the second part—you had some reason to say what you did. And frankly I deserved it.”

Alison didn’t know how to answer that, and Elise shot her a wry grin as she reached for the bag. “I see you’re not arguing with me. Good. Keep that up and we’ll be great friends.” The bag released a heavenly odor as she opened it and began laying out two cartons, chopsticks, napkins, and drinking cups.

“Thai iced tea? Hand that over,” demanded Alison. Elise looked pleased as she pushed the cup closer, and Alison closed her eyes at the first sip. “Oh, heaven. Nobody does this like Guo Gao’s.” Opening up her carton, she sniffed the aromatic steam, then wasted no time unwrapping her chopsticks. “Thank you so much for this. How did you know to go to Guo Gao’s?”

“I called Ben.”

“You did?” Alison stopped with her chopsticks halfway to her mouth. “That must have been an interesting conversation. Why did you think he’d know where my favorite Thai restaurant is?” She took her first bite and hummed with pleasure.

“It never occurred to me that he’d know where you eat out,” said Elise, delicately picking up a piece of chicken in her chopsticks. “But I knew he cleaned up a mess last night, and I hoped he’d remember the name on the stasis bag.” Her eyes widened as she tasted the chicken. “This is good. No wonder you love this place. Anyway, now I know that Ben knows all your hangouts. I have a list.”

“I see. Are you planning to bring me takeaway every night?”

“Well, I do have other engagements at times, but I’m sure something could be arranged on my free nights.”

Alison swallowed before she was quite ready, then took a hasty sip of tea. “That could seriously dent your budget,” she said, testing the waters.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be the one paying for it. You’ve got the big salary now.” Elise winked as she took another bite, and Alison set her chopsticks back in her carton.

“What exactly are you saying?”

Elise pushed her own chopsticks in her carton, gracefully dabbed her mouth with her napkin, and said, “I’m saying I’ve known you for damn near seven years, and until last night I never had any idea who Alison Necheyev really was. You’re the kind of woman who will go to considerable trouble to protect a hundred and fifty people she’s never even met, just because it’s the right thing to do. I don’t have too many people like that in my social circle. Actually I don’t think I have any. So if you’re amenable, and if you didn’t accept my invitation last night just to be polite, I’d like to include you in that circle.”

“Include me in a different circle,” said Alison. “I know the people in that other one and I don’t have any desire to be in a circle with most of them, other than the one I already am for the Foundation.”

Elise laughed. “Those are my friends you’re talking about. I’ll have you know they’re not all bad. But I can guess the ones you’re referring to and to be honest, a lot of those relationships are built on expectation and obligation, not affection. And none of them are quite as brutally honest as that. Do you have any idea how refreshing it is to hear someone actually speak her mind?”

“Don’t tell me it took you seven years to figure that out about me.”

“No. It just took that long to figure out that it crosses over into the personal, too.” All levity vanished from her expression as she held Alison in an intent gaze. “You shook me up last night, and I mean that in a good way. I spent half the night thinking about it—about what you said, the way you see me, the fact that you’re working with Starfleet to find out who’s doing this to Lynne—and I realized something pretty important.”

“What’s that?” Alison found herself unable to look away.

“I don’t want to live my life in such a way that someone I respect can tell me I’ll never show any grace, and actually believe it.”

“Elise—” She was feeling worse and worse about that.

“No, let me finish. Please. Just now you apologized for being harsh and for judging me. But you didn’t apologize for what you actually said. You can’t, because you only said what you believed. It was your truth. And it shocked me to realize that most of it was true. I may not think of Lynne as my family, but in reality she is. And I didn’t just find that out a week and a half ago, I knew it back when we first told you about her. Charles and I both did; there just wasn’t any other reasonable explanation. But I did absolutely nothing about that. You did. You tried to tell me at the reception, didn’t you? When you said it was our job to protect her too.”

“I was…surprised that you acknowledged her claim but didn’t seem to think she had any connection to you.”

“Surprised, right. Don’t start mincing words now. You were appalled; I saw it. But I honestly didn’t get it. I just saw her as a stranger who happened to share my name, and someone I’d be dealing with on a financial basis later. And then when she fired us and named you her fund manager, all I could think was that you must have pulled off one hell of a coup, and fooled everyone in the process. It didn’t occur to me that the truth could be so simple as it was. Lynne trusts you because you gave her reason to. And she doesn’t trust us, because we didn’t do shit.” She picked up her chopsticks again. “I’ve got no one to blame for that but myself.”

Alison stirred her pad thai in the carton and took a bite, trying to figure out how she could possibly respond. Fortunately, Elise saved her the trouble.

“While I was wide awake thinking last night, I did a little research,” she said. “I’m not certain about this, because a lot of records were lost after the third world war, but I think we’re all descended from Lynne’s aunt—her father’s sister. So that makes her my cousin about eleven times removed, if you assume thirty-three years per generation.”

Alison couldn’t help but smile. “You found the family connection.” More importantly, you looked for it.

“I think I found it. It made me realize that if she were in my own generation, she’d be as closely related to me as Adele. And while Adele and I aren’t great friends, we are family. If she needed help, I’d help her.” She shrugged. “So, though it may be much too late to hop on this particular wagon, I’d like to help Lynne if I can. But I don’t really know how. I mean, you said yourself I’m one of the top three suspects. She wouldn’t even let me come along on that tour you gave her on her first day here.”

“I think the best thing you can do right now is to rack your brain for every possible bit of information you could give Commander Tuvok to help him with the investigation.” Alison reached for her tea. “The sooner Lynne is safe, the sooner she knows who she can trust.”

“I already did that. And I’ve been thinking about it all day. No matter how I look at it, I just can’t see anyone in this family being so brutally unconcerned about any person’s life, much less an entire ship full.”

“I’ve been having the same difficulty,” admitted Alison. “I spent the last year looking for motivation or clues or anything that might point to one of you. But I haven’t seen anything. Of course, I never realized that Charles was playing around with the Orion Syndicate, either.”

“God, Charles.” Elise groaned. “He called me today in a panic. Commander Tuvok didn’t waste any time questioning him. Scared him to death.”

“Commander Tuvok doesn’t have any time to waste,” Alison reminded her. “Neither does Lynne.”

“I know. It’s just…a little difficult for me to handle. Charles isn’t even my blood relation, but he feels more like family than Adele. And I betrayed his confidence. He was in a state, worrying about how Commander Tuvok had found out and whether that meant other people knew as well, because once the word gets back to Brian or Adele, he’s toasted. Neither one of them would ever approve of what he’s trying to do. At least, not at this point—they’ll approve retroactively if the result is good. And I knew that if I didn’t ease his mind, he’d just implode from sheer panic. So I told him that I was the one who’d informed Commander Tuvok.”

Alison was impressed. “And?”

“Let’s just say that I’m short a family member for the time being. One more reason to bring Lynne into the fold, eh?” She raised her cup in a mock toast, but her bravado didn’t hide the hurt.

“I’m sorry. That had to be extremely hard for you. But you did the right thing.”

“I’m not so sure as you. Is that what it takes to help Lynne? Betray my current family for the sake of a new member?”

For the first time, Alison realized just what a quandary Elise was in. What would she do if Aunt Alynna were a serious suspect in an attempted murder case? Would she actively help the investigation?

No. Because I wouldn’t believe it was possible. Just like she doesn’t believe it’s possible.

And yet, Elise had told Tuvok about Charles. And now she was sitting in Alison’s office, sharing her thoughts and doubts over a takeaway meal that by itself said a great deal about the woman who’d bought it. She deserved more than the pat responses Alison had been giving her.

“I think,” she said slowly, “that if you discovered who’s responsible for this and didn’t tell Commander Tuvok, that would be a betrayal. Not just of Lynne, but of yourself, because you’d have to live with the guilt. And I don’t see you as being the kind of person who could carry that guilt easily.”

Elise looked at her closely. “Do you think you know me that well?”

This was a much easier one to answer. “Actually, I think I’ve known you for damn near seven years and only now am I getting any idea who you really are.”

The smile that earned her was oddly shy. They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Elise asked, “What is she like?”

Alison held up a finger as she finished chewing a bite.

“Sorry,” said Elise. “That was rude.”

Swallowing, Alison said, “Hey, I’m chewing on food that you brought me. Nothing rude about that.” She finished the last of her tea and looked regretfully at the empty cup.

“Here.” Elise slid hers over. “I’m not going to drink all of it.”

“You don’t mind sharing?”

“That depends entirely on the object being shared. In this case, no.”

“Well, thank you. But I suck down Thai iced tea like nobody’s business, so technically this might not be actual sharing.”

The half-nod Elise gave her silently acknowledged Alison’s dodge of the double entendre. “So, you were about to tell me what Lynne is like. Since I’ve wasted most of my chances to find out for myself.”

“I’m sure you’ll have more chances in the future, when this mess is over. But in the meantime, what you saw in the conference room was a good indicator. She’s intelligent, fearless, and she can take care of herself.”

“And she doesn’t tolerate anyone’s condescension.”

“You noticed that.” Alison took a shameless gulp of Elise’s tea.

“Hard to miss it. I think Adele is still spitting over it.” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “Which is a mark in her favor as far as I’m concerned. Was she really assimilated by the Borg?”

Alison nodded.

“But she doesn’t have any implants. Not like Seven of Nine and Commander Sandovhar.”

Remembering Gutierrez’ shock when Lynne had bent the corner of his silver tray, Alison said, “She does, you just can’t see them.”

Elise looked at her knowingly. “I’m getting a lot of short answers here.”

“Yes, you are.” Alison fished a piece of chicken from her carton and held it up for emphasis. “They’re not my stories to tell. You’ll just have to get to know her yourself.” She popped the chicken in her mouth and wondered if she had room for the last few bites.

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Elise reached out and snagged her cup back. “But the question is, how do you invite someone in when they need bodyguards to come to your party?”

Alison had no answer for that.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 39

 

 

Kathryn watched Lynne as she sat cross legged on their bedroom floor, giving Barney his last feeding of the evening. “What about Barnstorm?” she suggested.

Lynne made a face. “No.”

“But it has such a dashing sound to it!”

“No. What do you have against Barney?”

“I don’t know. It’s just so…plain.”

“Maybe you should call your dog Mollstorm instead.”

Kathryn had to chuckle at how stupid it sounded. “Okay, point taken. I guess I can live with Barney.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting with her elbows on her knees and her chin propped in her hands. “You know, you look beautiful. I think motherhood agrees with you.”

Lynne looked up, a bright smile making her even more lovely. “Thank you. Can’t say I ever thought I’d be a mother to a kitten, but…he’s already gotten to me.”

“Yes, I can see that.” And she could. She’d been so worried the previous night; Lynne just didn’t need anything else complicating her life. And she had never been a pet person. She’d said her itinerant lifestyle simply didn’t allow it. Hell, she hadn’t even had houseplants in her climbing days. And she certainly didn’t respond to Molly with any real affection. She was unfailingly polite, and gave Molly an occasional scratch or pet, but it seemed more of a social obligation than anything else. At first Kathryn had thought that she simply needed time to adapt to the concept of a pet, but after a while she’d realized that the feelings just weren’t there. So when Lynne had insisted on saving the kitten, Kathryn had assumed it would be just one more burden.

Gretchen had known otherwise. Kathryn hadn’t really believed her when she’d said Lynne needed that kitten, but looking at them now, she could see the truth of it. When Lynne was focused on Barney, there was a peace in her features that had been absent for too long.

“From telling the President of the United Federation of Planets to go to hell in the morning, to bottle feeding a kitten at night,” she mused. “You are truly a do-everything kind of woman.”

“Everything in its proper place and time,” said Lynne. “I don’t think I’d have been nearly so effective telling the President to go to hell in my jeans and sweatshirt, with an orphaned kitten in my hands.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. It might have been even more effective.” Kathryn kind of liked the scene her imagination conjured.

“Well, I’m not the only do-everything woman. Sitting over there on that bed, also in jeans and a sweatshirt, is the same woman who spent her morning in a ticker tape parade, and her afternoon in the studios of every big-name reporter in the Federation.”

Kathryn waved that off. “I’d rather have been here, watching you do this. He is a cute little bugger,” she added, knowing Lynne would love the word choice.

“Bugger?” Lynne laughed outright, leaving Kathryn a little confused. It wasn’t that funny. “Yes, he is. But I’m thinking I should probably tell you the other meaning of that word.”

“I thought it was just an affectionate diminutive.”

“It is, where I came from. But over the pond in Britain it meant something else. It was a slang term for a sodomite. Or for the act of sodomy. Or just as a synonym for fuck.”

“Oh, for god’s sake. I cannot believe how many words you have in your vocabulary for sexual activities.”

“Hey, I didn’t make this stuff up.” Lynne eased the bottle away from Barney’s mouth and set it on the floor. “Full up, are you? Okay, let’s get the air out.” She tossed a hand towel over her shoulder, held him gently up against it and patted his back until a tiny belch emerged. Kathryn covered her mouth; she’d rarely seen anything so damn cute as Lynne burping the kitten.

“I see you chortling over there.” Lynne brought Barney back down and set him by his heating pad. “It’s not his fault that he gets air in his little tummy from sucking on a bottle. Is it, Barney? If you had your mama that wouldn’t be a problem.” He wobbled over the floor, squeaking as he tried to explore more interesting places but was hindered by Lynne’s hands. “Oh, no you don’t. We still have one more job to do.”

“Time to brush my teeth,” announced Kathryn, jumping up from the bed.

“Yeah, I know. I’m surprised you’re even staying in the same room. Last night I thought you might have transported back to Voyager.”

Kathryn felt no guilt. “There’s a reason I had puppies and not kittens.”

“Oh, because it’s soooo much easier to potty train a puppy. You just wait until Barney’s old enough to figure out the litter box. Then you’ll envy me.”

“No I won’t, because I’m going to have to live with that litter box.” As Lynne laid the hand towel on the pad and took out the small wet cloth, Kathryn beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. She spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning her teeth, running a little cool water over her face, brushing her hair, and in general taking care of every possible aspect of bedtime hygiene that she could think of. By the time she finally emerged, she could see at a glance that her strategy had been successful. The towel and cloth were nowhere to be seen, and Barney was back in his box with Lynne petting the living daylights out of him.

“You’re going to pet all his fur off before he even finishes growing it in,” she said, sitting on the floor beside them.

“Nah. He’s tougher than that. Besides, socialization is critical at this stage. The more I pet and play with him, the smarter and happier and more well-adjusted he’ll be.”

“Your parents must have petted you a lot, then.”

Lynne stopped and looked at her with a loving smile. “You are so sweet sometimes. Come here.”

Kathryn enjoyed her reward as Lynne focused all of her attention on their kiss, using hands and teeth and tongue to get her message across. When they finally separated, it took Kathryn a moment to open her eyes. Then she frowned. “Wait. You did sterilize your hands, right?”

“Christ, you make points and then you lose them right afterward.” Lynne shook her head in mock despair as she turned to pet Barney again. “For the record, your parents obviously petted you a lot, too.”

Kathryn joined in, running her fingers through Barney’s short, silky fur. He nuzzled their hands, squirming and rubbing. “Do you think he misses his littermate?” she asked.

“According to what I read today, he’s too young to have any awareness of having lost a littermate, but he’s programmed to seek out warmth and other bodies. That’s why he’s rubbing against us. Right now our hands are his littermates.”

They fell silent as they played with him. Finally, Kathryn said, “I don’t think Revi’s parents petted her enough.”

Lynne sighed. “I was thinking about that, too. It worries me that we haven’t heard from her yet.”

“Seven said she’d call when Revi was ready to see anyone. I just wish I knew what happened.”

“I can guess,” said Lynne. “There’s no hiding in an interlink. Sometimes, the truth doesn’t set you free.”

“I don’t believe that. It’s always better to know the truth. Even if you don’t like what you see, at least you can start dealing with it.”

“Well, that works for you and me. Does it work for Revi?”

After another long pause, Kathryn asked, “Do you know the truth?”

Lynne nodded. “Like I said, there’s no hiding in an interlink. It’s not that Revi wanted to show me, or that I ever looked for it. But memories are funny things. They pop out even when you’re thinking about something unrelated. Did she ever tell you?”

“No, not in so many words. But I have a pretty strong suspicion. She shuts down whenever the topic of her father comes up. Which isn’t very often.”

“She shuts down for a good reason. Her father was a bastard.”

It was strange how difficult it was to say the words; to put her suspicions into a concrete question. “He abused her, didn’t he?”

Lynne met her eyes and hesitated. “Yeah, he did,” she said finally. “From the time she was eleven or twelve until she moved out to go to university. I think the worst of it was when she was younger, though.”

“He was a bastard.” Though she’d never met the man, she found herself wishing she could get him alone in a room for just five minutes. How could anyone hurt Revi?

“And the irony is, she still craves his approval. She wants something she’ll never get.”

“God, that explains a lot.”

“I know.” Lynne sighed. “I was so hopeful for her last week. I really thought that even a bastard might change his spots when his long-lost daughter reappeared. Now I feel guilty for encouraging her to go visit them.”

“Sweetheart, you can’t take that on. It was always her choice. Besides, even if her father did exactly what she said he’d do, her mother seems to have been something of a surprise. It takes a lot of courage to go against a lifetime’s worth of prejudice, not to mention a disapproving husband, and do what she did.”

“True. I just wish I could be sure it will end up being a positive thing.”

Kathryn scratched Barney on the cheek while musing over this new piece of information. She remembered Revi coming back from her counseling session with Troi and saying that she had more than her Borg past to work on. This must have been what she’d been referring to.

“You know, it’s funny,” she said, thinking out loud. “I thought I knew everything about Revi. I mean, we almost literally lived her life during her Gifting on Terellia. But now that I think about it, we really didn’t see much of her later childhood. We skipped right over to her first meeting with Steph, and everything that happened afterward. Do you think she actually controlled that?”

“I know she did,” said Lynne. “That’s the main reason she went after Seven, because she knew she had enough experience to control that interface. Of all the people on Voyager, Revi was the one person who could actually do a Gifting on her own terms.”

“She told me that she was only barely able to guide the process. I didn’t realize she meant she’d been able to keep some memories from being displayed. But why those? My god, she shared the most horrible memories imaginable. And the most intimate,” she added, remembering the memory of Revi and Seven’s reconciliation after their estrangement. That one still made her skin heat up.

“I’ve wondered that, too. My guess is that it’s the one thing she’s never even begun to deal with.”

“And now she is.” Kathryn wished she could hold Revi in her arms and protect her from all this. Thank heavens she had Seven.

Barney finally curled up and went to sleep, ending the petting session. Lynne tucked his towel around him and said, “You know what?”

“What?”

“I think I’m ready to watch a message from my parents.”

Lynne hadn’t touched that PADD since the night she’d discovered her father’s possible death in Denver, and after their initial talk, Kathryn had carefully stayed away from the topic. Now she felt a rush of relief.

“Would you like some company while you watch?” she asked.

“What I’d like is for us to snuggle up in bed and watch it together.”

Kathryn leaned over to kiss the side of her jaw. “It would be my very great pleasure. Thank you for inviting me.” As they rose from the floor, she asked, “Does this have anything to do with Revi?”

“Yeah, it does. If she has the courage to face what she’s dealing with right now, I sure as hell ought to have the courage to watch a message from my parents. They loved me so much that they made sure I never doubted it, almost four centuries later.” Lynne opened the drawer of the bedside table and pulled out the PADD. “I think I’ve been an ass for letting proactive guilt keep me from feeling that love.”

“I don’t think you ever stopped feeling it. You just weren’t able to look it in the face for a few days.”

They settled in bed, sitting up against the headboard with the pillows behind their backs. Lynne scrolled through the PADD, found the next message, and pulled it up. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

She tapped the control, and the PADD came to life.

“Hey, squirt,” said John Hamilton.

“Hi, Lynne.” Elizabeth smiled. “It’s July 24, 2004. Three years since you’ve been gone and we miss you every day.”

“But my god, did you ever leave at a good time,” John said. “We’re now embroiled in what has to be the most miserable presidential campaign of all time. Be glad you’re missing it. I cannot believe the idiocy—”

“John! Are you going to spend this message talking about politics?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I miss ranting about it with her.”

Lynne paused the playback. “They’re in the kitchen this time,” she said somewhat unnecessarily, as Kathryn had already deduced it. “I can’t tell you how many times Dad and I sat at that table and ranted about politics.”

“—and you won’t give me the satisfaction,” John continued as Lynne resumed the playback.

“That’s because I like my blood pressure right where it is,” retorted Elizabeth. “Shall we give her the news she might be more interested in?” Facing back toward the PADD, she said, “Your friend Digger called us. He’s getting married this September.”

“Digger’s getting married?!” Lynne’s exclamation was so loud that Kathryn winced.

“He said that we’d like his fiancée because she’s so much like you,” Elizabeth finished.

“Yeah,” said John, “with the notable exception that she’ll have him and you wouldn’t.”

Lynne snickered.

“Anyway, he’s extremely happy, and you know he doesn’t really get on with his family, but he wanted to share his news with somebody, so he called us. I’m really glad to see it. He deserves a little happiness.”

John nodded in agreement. “I always did like him. But not for a son-in-law!” he added, raising a finger. “That would have been a disaster.”

“God yes,” said Elizabeth and Lynne at the same time. This time Kathryn snickered.

“And there are wedding bells right here in town, too,” said Elizabeth.

“Oh, this is big news,” added John.

“Do you remember Robert Penney? The postmaster for our post office? He retired this year. And for once the United States Postal Service did something right. Instead of bringing someone in from outside, they promoted Phil, our mailman. And the moment Phil got his promotion he went right over to Sue Ellen’s house and asked her to marry him.”

“Those two have been courting for five years,” said John. “I didn’t think Phil had it in him. He said he was just waiting until he had something to offer.”

“Why do men still think that they have to be the providers?” asked Elizabeth. “I mean, this is the twenty-first century. Sue Ellen makes a fine salary all by herself. And a good thing, too, because if she’d been waiting for Phil to provide for her she’d have starved half a decade ago.”

“Don’t ask me, love, I didn’t wait more than a few months to snatch you up.”

He calls her ‘love’? thought Kathryn.

“And knocked me up not too much later, as I recall,” said Elizabeth with a smile.

“Oh! Speaking of that…” John grinned. “Your cousin Teresa just had a little boy. His name is Richard Hamilton Monroe—named after both of his grandfathers.”

“He’s a cutie. Teresa sent photos. Actually Teresa sent about eight thousand photos.”

Lynne snorted. “I bet.”

John was shaking his head. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate a nice baby photo, but there are really only so many ways you can capture the varying moods of a baby’s ass.”

Lynne laughed so hard that she missed Elizabeth’s response and had to watch it again. The entire message was full of the minutia of family life, small town life, and news of Lynne’s friends, related with the humorous give-and-take that seemed to be a natural part of John and Elizabeth’s relationship. Kathryn found herself watching the interactions between them closely, seeing so much of Lynne in both of them—and more importantly, seeing the role models Lynne had learned from. It suddenly occurred to her that she and Lynne related to each other in much the same way. And yet, when they’d first met, neither one of them had been nearly so comfortable in their own skins as John and Elizabeth. She’d still been trapped in her role of captain, having spent five years pushing down her own personal needs, and Lynne had been utterly lost after being torn from everything she knew.

Look how far we’ve come, she thought. We look like them now. She wondered what Lynne had seen in her, back in the beginning, that had ever made her think they could end up like this.

When the message ended, Lynne deactivated the PADD, set it on the table, and turned back to burrow into Kathryn. “Would you just hold me for a minute?” she asked.

“Come on, let’s get more comfortable. Then I can hold you for longer than a minute.”

They rearranged the pillows and laid down, with Lynne immediately snuggling in and resting her head on Kathryn’s shoulder. Kathryn wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead. “How are you?”

“Okay.”

Kathryn gave her thirty seconds to come up with a more specific answer, then kissed her again and began running her fingers through the thick hair that she always loved to touch. “Want to try that one more time?” she asked gently.

“Mmm. I love it when you do that.”

“I know.” She smiled. “Remember the first time I did this?”

Lynne’s body moved with her chuckle. “Oh yeah. I believe I had you half naked, and then you pretty much ripped my shirt off, got me all excited about what was coming next—and decided that you wanted to play with my hair instead.”

“Well, in fairness to me, I had been fantasizing for weeks about getting your hair out of that braid and playing with it.”

“So, I was fantasizing about making love to you, and you were fantasizing about making love to my hair.”

Kathryn laughed out loud, then wrapped both arms around Lynne and squeezed her tightly. “I love you.”

Lynne shifted enough to look into her eyes. “I love you too. More than I can ever say.”

They shared a slow, gentle, lingering kiss, and Lynne settled back again. Happily, Kathryn resumed her prior activity. “So, how are you?”

“I’m okay, really. I just needed you.”

“You always have me.”

Lynne dropped a kiss on the skin beneath her cheek. “I know. And I guess the longer answer to your question is that I’m feeling happy and sad all at the same time. What you saw there—that was so typical of them. That’s how they are…I mean, were. God, I get my tenses confused when I’m thinking about this. Anyway…I think these messages are like a narcotic. I love them while I’m watching, but once the high is over there’s a crash.”

Kathryn squeezed her again. “Is the high worth it?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. I guess I can see why you’d have to ask, but—I can’t even explain how much these messages mean to me. Even if they make me feel guilty.”

“I just wish they didn’t.”

“Well, it’s not as bad as it was. I think it’s starting to sink in that Dad really was getting on in years when he died. But I have to warn you that when I get to that particular message, I’m going to be a total basket case. You’ll have to pick me up and pour me into bed.”

“You know I will,” whispered Kathryn, kissing her again.

The silence of the sleeping house settled around them, and for long minutes Kathryn simply enjoyed the peace of the moment. At last Lynne stirred. “I have to move.”

“I know.” Kathryn resigned herself to losing her. Lynne didn’t often snuggle in that way, and when she did, it never lasted long. She shifted onto her side, facing Lynne and hoping their night wouldn’t end just yet. Lynne did the same thing, looking at her from her pillow with a serious expression.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there today.”

“At the parade?” asked Kathryn incredulously.

She nodded. “It was the culmination of your success, and I was halfway around the world.”

“Lynne, that was not the culmination of my success. That moment came when we landed in front of Starfleet Headquarters and powered down the engines. That’s when I knew I was done. That was the important moment, and you were there for it.” Kathryn remembered the crowds at the parade, the completely uncontrollable security situation, and the instinctive fear she’d felt when Susanna Martin had pulled out that holographic sign projector. “There is absolutely no way you could have been there today. I’d have been so afraid for you that I couldn’t have functioned. It would have been impossible to keep you safe.”

Lynne sighed. “I want this to be over.”

“I know. Me too.” Wanting to change the subject, she said, “Actually I’d rather have been a fly on the wall for your meeting than in that parade. I think that’s where the real excitement was today.”

It worked. A small smile touched Lynne’s mouth as she said, “I have to admit I’m pretty proud of that. My first time imitating you, and it worked out perfectly.”

“Oh, no, you weren’t imitating me. I’d have taken the first offer. I really don’t think I’d have pushed it as far as you did.”

“Kathryn Janeway, you are full of it. You know damn well that if you’d been in my place, and Gutierrez had threatened me, you’d have cut his balls off and fed them to him.”

Kathryn wrinkled her nose. “That’s a disgusting image.”

“But it’s true.”

She thought about it. “Yes, it is,” she admitted. “I tend to lose my grasp on practicality when it comes to you.”

Lynne reached out for her hand. “I know. I love that about you.” She pulled the hand closer and planted a soft kiss on the palm, then tucked it under her chin and closed her eyes. “Anyway, the important thing is that in another week we can start planning a huge party for everyone.”

“Now that’s a function I’ll look forward to. Did I mention how proud I am of you for pulling that off?”

“Well, you might have said something to that effect after you got home.”

In reality, Kathryn had whooped with delight upon learning that Lynne had done what neither she nor Admiral Necheyev had had the power or the clout to do. When Lynne had first told her of the plan, Kathryn had been concerned about her usage of the Foundation mission as leverage, and whether that would impact her future relationship with the rest of the board. But Lynne had adamantly stated that the Maquis crewmembers were far more important than a bunch of people she didn’t even know, and that had pretty well ended any objections.

“Maybe I should say it again. I’m ridiculously proud of you, and a little in awe as well, and I wish I could have seen it. I wish I could have seen Alison’s reaction, too.”

“She’s convinced I’m insane.”

“Well, you are. But in a good way.”

“I suppose that is why we get along so well.”

They fell silent, and after a few minutes Kathryn carefully extracted her hand and brushed it over Lynne’s cheek. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Lynne didn’t open her eyes. “Goodnight, love.”

Kathryn rolled over and scooted backward, smiling as Lynne’s arm came around her waist and possessively pulled her in tighter. These were the moments when everything else simply fell away. Really, there was nothing in the world so important as this.

She lay in the darkness, relaxed but wide awake, and thought about John and Elizabeth Hamilton and how much they had loved their daughter. And yet, those messages were all Lynne had left of them. Seven had lost her parents as well. Revi, on the other hand, still had both of her parents—but not that kind of love.

But she herself was somewhere in between. She had lost one loving parent, but the other was down the hall right now, sleeping in her bed. Suddenly Kathryn missed her.

First thing in the morning, I’m giving Mom a big, long hug.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 40

 

 

Gretchen was having another of those nights. She threw the covers back with a sigh, put on her thick robe and slippers, and went quietly down the hall. At Kathryn and Lynne’s door she paused, listening, but heard nothing at all. Well, it was too early for Lynne to be waking up yet. Funny, though, how quickly she’d gotten accustomed to having company in her insomnia, and how much she missed it when it wasn’t available.

She made her way downstairs, closed the kitchen door, turned up the environmental controls for the room and set about making a cup of tea. As it steeped she paused to look out the window, noting that the predicted snow had indeed arrived. Fat flakes were drifting down, glowing briefly in the light from her window before vanishing into the darkness again. Well, that would give Lynne a way of burning off some energy in the morning—the paths would need to be shoveled again.

She had finished her tea and read through a chapter and a half of her book when the console on the wall chirped. Startled and more than a little nervous, she got up to see who was it was. Calls at this time of night were never good news. But the ID on the panel was the last thing she’d expected, and she accepted the call with relief.

Revi looked out at her apologetically. “I’m sorry to bother you so late, Gretchen. But I saw your light on…” She hesitated.

“No need to apologize; I’m wide awake. Are you all right?” She wanted to say we’ve all been worried about you, but held her tongue.

“I’m fine. I just wondered if…if I could come over.”

“I wish you would. I was just sitting here thinking that it’s not much fun being awake in the middle of the night with no one for company. Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I’d love it.” Revi’s gratitude was far too apparent. “Thank you, I’ll be right over.”

She clicked off without another word, and Gretchen blinked at the dark screen for a moment before shaking her head and moving over to the counter. Chamomile, I think.

For once Revi walked right in, the snowflakes still melting in her hair as she came into the kitchen. “Hi. Thank you for having me over, I really appreciate this.”

Gretchen held out the cup and saucer. “Chamomile. It soothes a tired mind.” As Revi took the cup, she added, “And there’s no need to thank me. I love your company.”

“You might not love it right now,” Revi muttered.

Gretchen ignored the comment, waiting until they were both seated before she said, “Seven told us that you might not be available for a while. I’m really glad to see you.”

Revi studiously looked at her tea. “Seven’s been holding me together. I had a pretty rough talk with my mother today.”

“A talk, or an interlink?”

Looking up, Revi said, “She told you that?”

“No. Lynne knew why Dhara was here.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. My brain’s not working too well.”

“Well then, you’re probably just operating at the same level as the rest of us. Welcome to normalcy.”

Revi snorted. “I don’t know what normal is anymore.” She turned her cup in its saucer. “Gretchen, I don’t know anyone else I can talk to about this. Seven’s killing herself trying to help, but this is one thing she simply can’t understand. And I don’t know if you can, either, but maybe you can answer a question for me.”

“I’ll do my absolute best.”

That earned her a tiny, short-lived smile. “I know you will.”

When nothing more was forthcoming, Gretchen prodded gently. “That is, I’ll do my best once I know what the question is.”

“Right. Okay. I’m asking you this because you’re a mother and maybe you can imagine the situation. Not because I think you would ever do this, or let it happen in your own family, because I know you wouldn’t.”

Gretchen wasn’t sure what this was leading to, but it didn’t sound good. “All right, I have the caveat. What is this hypothetical situation?”

Revi took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she met Gretchen’s eyes. “If you ever suspected that your husband was…was being unnecessarily rough in his physical discipline to your daughters, what would you have done?”

She’d known it was something bad, but she hadn’t expected this. She wasn’t sure she’d done a very good job of keeping the horror off her face, but Revi didn’t show any sign of seeing it.

“Well, I…I guess I’d try…my god, Revi, that’s a difficult one. I’ve never believed that physical discipline was ever necessary, period. There are so many other ways to teach a child. I’m having a hard time picturing this scenario.”

“That’s because you’re a good mother,” said Revi flatly. “But try to imagine it. Try to imagine that you consider the occasional slap to the face, or shaking, or shoving to be perfectly normal, if perhaps a tad harsh. But now you suspect that when your husband marches your daughter into her bedroom to discipline her, there’s more going on. That it might be more than a bit harsh. What would you do?”

Rarely had Gretchen felt so trapped. There couldn’t possibly be a right answer to this, but Revi was looking at her like she held the key to everything. Because she was a mother.

“If I suspected that,” she said, “then I would make sure I was right behind my husband when he marched my daughter off. I would not allow that to take place behind a closed door.” A flash of raw pain crossed Revi’s face, and Gretchen felt a surge of protectiveness that made it hard to sit still. She wanted to hug this woman fiercely, to tell her that nothing and no one would ever hurt her again. But what Revi needed right now was very careful handling, and with some difficulty she stayed in her chair and asked, “Are we talking about physical abuse, or sexual?”

“Physical.” Revi gave a small snort. “I guess I should be thankful for small favors. No, Father never crossed that line. I don’t think it was ever about him, or his urges. It was always about me not living up to his expectations. It was punishment for not being what he wanted me to be.” She shook her head. “He wanted a perfect, unquestioning, obedient girl. And I just couldn’t do it. Even when I knew my mouth would get me in trouble.”

Gretchen needed a moment to fight down her anger. In those few words, Revi had given her a tremendous insight into the woman she’d become.

“Most youngsters’ mouths get them into trouble,” she said. “It’s part of being a child, and testing boundaries.”

“I tested mine all the damn time,” said Revi. “But I couldn’t tell you why. I knew perfectly well where those boundaries were, and what the consequences were of going past them. But I did it anyway.”

“And you think those consequences were your fault, don’t you?”

Revi sighed. “Intellectually? No. But…” She lifted a hand and dropped it again.

“But somewhere deep down you believe it,” finished Gretchen. “Revi, I don’t know how to convince you if you can’t convince yourself. But speaking as a mother, what your father did was unacceptable. It was his responsibility, not yours. You asked what I would do if my husband had done that? I’d have taken him straight to counseling to learn anger management, because if he was beating our daughter then there was clearly something else going on besides normal parental discipline. And I would have spoken to my daughter so that she understood what was and wasn’t acceptable in that situation, and that she knew to tell me if it went beyond the bounds of acceptable. And if that didn’t resolve the problem, or if my husband refused to address the issue…” She pursed her lips. “Well, I’d have severed the marital contract. My primary duty is to my child.”

“Gods.” Revi pushed her teacup away and rested her forehead on her hand. “I wish you were my mother.”

“What did your mother do in that situation?”

“Nothing. She didn’t do a damned thing.”

The quiet response conveyed such a deep pain that for a moment Gretchen’s mind went blank. She simply had no idea what to say. The impression she’d gotten from her short meeting with Dhara Sandovhar didn’t match with a woman who could be so careless of her daughter’s welfare. Nor did Lynne’s explanation of why Dhara had come, and what she must have overcome in order to do it. It just didn’t add up.

In lieu of words, she rose from her chair and moved to the one next to Revi. Scooting it so that they were touching, she wrapped an arm around Revi’s bent back, silently offering a hug.

Revi raised her head and leaned into her, accepting the comfort. “I don’t understand. All this time I thought she just didn’t love me enough to protect me. But it’s not true. I felt it in our interlink; you can’t hide emotions when someone’s inside your mind. She really does love me.”

“I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t. You’re her daughter.”

“Then why? Why did she let it happen?”

Gretchen shifted slightly, letting Revi’s head rest on her shoulder and instinctively dropping a soft kiss on the top of it. “Did she know it was happening?”

“Do you know, I can’t even answer that question. You’d think it would be simple enough, wouldn’t you? Either she knew, or she didn’t. But it seems to be something in between. She suspected, but she didn’t want to know, so she never let herself know. I think she’d still be denying it even now, but she couldn’t deny my memories.”

That clarified things a little. “Love is the most complicated emotion there is. If your mother loves your father, she would have found it nearly impossible to accept that he was hurting you. We’re all capable of astonishing feats of rationalization to avoid seeing an unacceptable truth.”

Revi was silent for a moment. “She does love him,” she said at last. “And they’re very traditional. I’m not sure if my mother would agree with you about her primary responsibility. She might consider that to be to her husband, not to me.”

Gretchen doubted that. “It’s possible,” she said. “But as a mother I have to tell you, something shifts inside you when you give birth. I loved Edward fiercely, and I’d have done anything in the world for him. But when I saw Kathryn for the first time, everything changed. You’re a doctor, Revi, you know there’s a hormonal basis for this. Mothers of all species are chemically programmed to put their children before anything else.”

“I think maybe my mother got the wrong hormonal signal,” said Revi bitterly.

“Revi…” Gretchen’s heart ached for her. “Your mother came here specifically to reach out to you, in a manner that probably scared her half to death. And Lynne said that your father is adamantly prejudiced against telepaths. So it sounds to me like Dhara defied your father in order to make this connection with you.”

Revi straightened, pulling away and turning her chair so that they faced each other. “Actually she just didn’t tell him what she was doing. But you’re right. She went against what she knew he’d say.” She ran a hand through her hair, sighing. “I just don’t know how to deal with it. I don’t understand the choices my mother made when I was in their house. I wouldn’t have made them, you wouldn’t have made them, nobody I know would have made them. But Mother did. And yet she loves me. That’s the part that keeps tripping me up. When I believed she didn’t really love me, then it made sense. But to love me and still let it happen…”

“It’s a betrayal,” said Gretchen.

“Yes! Of the worst kind.”

“From what I know of this situation, you have every right to feel betrayed. A child has the right to expect protection from her parents. It’s fundamental. You were denied that, and because the right is fundamental, so is the pain when it’s denied. That is very real, and it’s a very deep part of you.” She reached out for Revi’s hand and held it in her own. “But a mother has a similar right to expect that her partner, the parent of her child, will protect that child. It’s almost as fundamental. And the pain of knowing that he was violating that trust would be almost unimaginable. If I put myself in your mother’s shoes—if I try to imagine that Edward was hurting Kathryn or Phoebe—my god, my heart hurts just thinking about it. I would have been truly unable to believe it unless the evidence was in my face. Now I am in no way excusing your mother’s lack of action. But I can understand the very, very powerful motivation not to see something that would cause so much pain.”

Revi looked at her thoughtfully. “When she finally accepted it today, she was hurt. I barely even noticed, I was so wrapped up in what I was feeling. But she was in a lot of pain, just like you said. Shocked. Horrified. And she was apologizing for failing me. And then she turned it around to my father, like she always did, defending him. Even in the face of everything she’d seen, even after telling me she was sorry for failing me, even after accepting the blame for herself, she was still defending him. It is that powerful, isn’t it?”

Gretchen nodded. “I don’t know anything about your parents’ relationship, but just from what you’re saying, it may not be him that she’s defending. She may be defending her belief in him.”

“Gods. I think you’re right.” Revi pulled her teacup back and took a sip. “Do you know what the weirdest thing about this whole day was?”

“What?”

Setting the cup down, she looked at Gretchen and said, “I found out my father loves me. And I honestly don’t care.”

 

 

 

 

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