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	Chapter 1: Seven Year Itch
	Date: 03/08/01
	Rating: PG-13
	Sun blasted through the window, bleaching the colors from the flowers on the table and the brightly woven cloth underneath.. The rest of the room, and the man within it, seemed deeply shadowed in comparison. He stopped checking his chronometer long enough to check the coffee pot again. Chuckling to himself at his own nervousness, he forced himself to sit and just stare at the door, willing it to open.
	Finally, the chime sounded. He jumped up, suddenly almost afraid to open the door. Slowly he walked to the door, took a deep breath and opened it. There she was. After, ten years, there she was. Even at fifty-five she was still as beautiful as a girl. She was still trim, well almost as trim. And her hair still had that burnished color, even if it was cut in that practical, short, no upkeep style that 'women of a certain age' seemed to prefer. Her eyes still had that sparkle, even swimming in a pool of almost shed tears. He had yet to decide if the tears were hers or his.
	She looked up at him with an almost shy yearning. His hair was long, pulled into a kind of ponytail at the back, with an intriguing streak of silver over his right brow. He was thinner, almost too thin. His loose shirt and pants looked as if they belonged to a bigger man. His eyes were dark pools, all the more so through the tears. She wasn't quite sure if they were his or hers.
	They stood there, on the threshold, neither knowing what to do or say next. He finally broke the trance and took her hand, leading her into the room, "Please, please come in out of the heat. Forgive the place," he said with some embarrassment.
	She gave the place a quick glance. It was spotless. She returned her gaze to drinking in the sight of him. His skin had deepened into a dark, polished bronze. Tiny lines framed his eyes; furrows creased his brow. He was saying something. She tried to hear him over the beating of his heart.
	"I've been touring the outposts and just got back yesterday. I didn't know you were coming until then. My attaché assures me that she has taken care of everything. The guest house won't be vacant until tomorrow, but I'd be honored if you'd stay here until it's ready for you."
	She took his other hand and stood there, trying not to tremble, as her eyes adjusted to the light. "I don't want to put you to any bother. I'm sure a local hotel would be just fine." There, that was the polite answer. She'd said what was expected, but she really didn't want to stay in some lonely hotel for yet another night. Her life seemed made of lonely hotel rooms and endless business meetings lately.
	"No, no it's no bother. Please. There is plenty of room. The far bedroom is always ready and, to be honest, the one hotel here isn't quite what you are used to."
	"I'm sure it would be fine, but I am getting tired of hotels. If you really wouldn't mind. Is Seven here?"
	"I expect she'll make an appearance soon," he said with a certain grimness.
	There seemed to be a subtext to that statement but it was washed away by her own feelings. Who would think, after all these years and all these people between them, that this man could still take her breath away.
	Then he grinned and all the shadows in the room disappeared. "Well, I don't know about you, but I can think of a better way to greet a friend I haven't seen in ten years than to stand here holding hands. Come here, you." He pulled her into his arms for a big, bear hug.
	Initially startled by his sudden move, she quickly returned the hug. It was supposed to be just a friendly hug, but they found that they held each other just a bit too tight, with just a bit too much desperation, too much intensity, too long for simple affection. Mutually embarrassed, they pulled apart.
	"Where is your luggage?"
	"My staff is coming in with most of my things in a few days. I left a small bag by the door. Is that coffee I smell?"
	"Freshly made. Help yourself to a cup. I'll put your bag in your room, then you can explain this 'staff' and 'all your stuff' to me later. Your letter was pretty terse. This isn't just a friendly visit, then?"
	She chuckled. "Well, the business end of this makes the friendly visit possible. You are not exactly next door any more. What I have to say is a for your ears only kind of message."
	"From Starfleet?"
	"Among others."
	"Oh? And they would be?"
	"Coffee first, then talk. I've been traveling for days without a decent cup."
	"Far be it from me to get between a Captain.."
	"Admiral!"
	"Sorry, old habits….'Admiral' and her coffee. The cups are over there. Unless your tastes have changed, that's all you'll need. But there is milk in the coldunit. Your room is at the end of this hall. Come down when you are ready."
	Milk, she thought to herself as she poured out a cup, a sacrilege. Inhaling, she sighed in contentment and followed him down the hallway sipping on the coffee. The house was built with the desert in mind. Walls were thick and white, the ceilings high. There was a cooling system, but it wasn't set unpleasantly cold. She hated a place cooled to arctic conditions. Like the kitchen and the living area before it, everything was spare and neat, almost antiseptic in the unrelieved whiteness of the unadorned walls and the trim functionality of the metal furniture. She was totally unprepared for the riot of color in the bedroom.
	At her quick intake of breath he turned, saying, "I hope this will be okay. There is not much wood on this planet. We tend not to waste it on furniture."
	She moved past him into the room, entranced. Instead of a clothes chest, there were hangings on either side of the bed, interwoven with gold, umber, brick red, with touches of blues and greens upon a field of cream. Attached to the hangings were beautiful, hinged baskets, one under the other. The bed itself rested on the floor. It was huge and covered in a soft blanket reflecting the design on the hangings. Oddly shaped marble slabs, propped upon squarish rocks bordered either side of the bed, with a larger one forming a low table at the foot. The bed itself was piled high with cushions, in a riot of colors. It was the kind of bed that encouraged one to leap upon it in wild abandon. Kathryn wasn't quite ready to abandon herself yet, but she couldn't resist putting down her coffee, pulling off her shoes and settling like a cat upon the cushions.
	"Chakotay, this is beautiful!" She relaxed back into the cushions, looking at the ceiling. It tapered inward at the corners, toward a lozenge shaped inset ringed with recessed lights, the center painted a deep blue with stars. She lay staring at the almost familiar constellations.
	He waited. She was more spontaneous than she had been aboard ship. Her spirit had lightened. It was nice to see. He wondered if she would remember. She did. She rose to a kneeling position and started to back off the bed.
	"I recognize those stars." Her voice was quiet, but deep and deadly, oddly hurt that he would display what she considered a private memory.
	"I thought you would." He said nothing else.
	"Seven didn't mind?"
	"Seven didn't know."
	"Seven didn't know what, O.F.? Hello, Captain."
	Automatically Kathryn corrected her, "Admiral…er…Kathryn." The statuesque blond had slithered in the door and stood posing at the end of the bed. Kathryn sat back in shock. The long, blond hair, neatly wound into a chignon, had been replaced by a spiky, short cut, the blond tresses tipped in pink. Her dress was skin tight, exposing a fair amount of cleavage and a still formidable figure, ending about mid-thigh. The shimmery, translucent material matched her hair. The left thigh seemed emblazoned with some sort of tattoo, but it kept moving. Kathryn couldn't figure out if it were some new form of body art or an exotic pet. What ever it was, it made her stomach churn. Long earrings bounced and sparkled, vying with her silver shadowed eyes for attention. So much of her sparkled and twinkled, that Kathryn almost missed the tiny gems decorating Seven's implant.
	Seven jutted a hip out, rearranging her pose and causing her tattoo to shift again. She gave Chakotay a smirk and simpered sweetly, "My, my. It didn't take you long to get her in your bed. Her bag isn't even unpacked."
	"Don't start, Nik."
	Kathryn was flabbergasted. She hadn't seen anything this tasteless since Mark had forced her to watch that Ferengi review with him. Seven's words finally cut through her astonishment, 'his' bed. She looked at Seven in horror as she moved again toward the side of the bed. "Seven, I had no idea that this was your bed. I couldn't possibly take your room."
	"My bed? I haven't been in that bed in three years. Don't feel you have to leave on my account. I just stopped by to get a few last things for Kit."
	Kathryn looked at Chakotay with confused exasperation, "Kit? Your bed? I could use a little help here."
	"I thought you knew. It's been so long. Please, stay. I haven't slept in this bed almost as long as she hasn't and Kit is.."
	At that moment a small bundle of flying chestnut hair and long skinny legs came bounding in the room, launching herself into Chakotay's arms, screeching, "O.F.! O.F.! O.F.! Guess what? Guess what? Guess what? Nikki said I could get my eyes silver too and Uncle Drab is going to take me to get my hair cut like Nikki's."
	"Don't call me that," he said to the squirming child in his arms, then turned toward Seven, "Keep that weasel away from my kid and no hair cuts!" and on to Kathryn, "Kathryn, may I introduce you to my daughter, Kit."
	The child screeched, "Kathryn! Is she the one? Papa's old girlfriend that you named me after?" and launched herself out of her father's arms and into Kathryn's, planting a wet, chocolate-sweet kiss on the side of her face. Startled, Kathryn automatically hugged her in return, mouthing, "Your girlfriend?" to Chakotay over the little girl's head. Chakotay looked embarrassed and shrugged. Pulling back, Kit looked wide-eyed at Kathryn and said, "You are old, aren't you? But you are very, very pretty, just like Papa said." She leapt to her feet again and started bouncing up and down on the bed chanting, "Papa said, Papa said, Papa said, in my bed, in my bed, in my bed."
	He caught her mid-bounce, "Papa said into the bathroom to clean that candy off your face." He looked over Kit's head at Seven, "Why do you give her chocolate when you know it makes her crazy? You'll be lucky if she calms down by the time you get her back to…Where is it you are living now? You 'will' leave me an address before you kidnap my daughter for another six months, won't you? Kathryn, excuse me a minute until I get her cleaned up."
	Kathryn sat there, her mouth hanging open and a smear of chocolate on her cheek. Pulling herself together, she turned back to Seven, willing herself to sound patient and failing miserably. "I should really appreciate being appraised of the situation, Seven."
	"I'd prefer Nikki, actually."
	"All right then…Nikki. What the hell have I dropped into here?"

Continue to Chapter 2: Peekaboo, I See You

     
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