Title: Collecting on Old Bets

Summary: Janeway and Seven discover that they've traveled to the same vacation destination…and then discover a lot more in the course of their stay. Post-Endgame.

Disclaimer 1: Paramount, blah blah blah. They can sue me in 10 years…right after my student loans are paid off. Deal?

Disclaimer 2: If you have a problem with lesbian relationships, turn back now—fair warning. This story is built on the gradual progression of attraction-confusion that sometimes happens between two women. Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out and have a very gay day.

A/N: The power was out for two days here; that means a lot of resourcefulness and a lot of time on your hands. This is what happens as a result. I revisited the story after a few months to update and edit it, but this is basically the original.

The goal here was to kick my habit of short one-shots and lift the word count. 10,000+ is small beans for some of you; for me, it's a damn marathon.

Enjoy.

The old, outdated shuttle groaned to a halt at the equally outdated station it landed at. Outside, dark storms raged on the planet's western coast, but inside, the station was dry and warm. Lavender hung in the sterile air.

Strangely, it was only as Kathryn Janeway was disembarking from the shuttle and walking into the station that she noticed a familiar blonde head several people in front of her.

Without thinking about the attention their meeting might draw, she called out.

"Seven?"

The blonde slowed for a few seconds, certain she'd heard the unmistakable sound of Captain Janeway's voice, but not quite believing it. She surprised herself by turning around, as it was essentially an act of faith.

"Captain?"

Happiness broke over both women's faces as they recognized each other. The people tangled between them parted, instinctively aware that this was a meeting of old friends.

They embraced tightly, ignoring the crowd around them—some of whom immediately realized who they were and captured the moment as it unfolded.

Seven pulled away first, shock still etched in her face as she regarded Janeway.

"Captain…why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same," Janeway replied easily, smile wide. "And it's Admiral now."

"Of course; I recall hearing of your promotion. My apologies, Admiral," Seven corrected herself hastily. Janeway blithely waved her off.

The ex-Borg looked into the other woman's face a second longer, pleased to see the Admiral in person again and unsure of what to say. She turned to glance out at the inclement weather. Social rules dictated that when one experienced awkwardness in a conversation, the weather was nearly always a sufficient topic to discuss.

"I do not think we will be going anywhere soon unless we wish to be electrocuted," she dutifully observed.

Janeway laughed, a sound Seven hadn't heard in several months. The crisp notes rang in her ears until it finally occurred to her that she had actually missed the sound of Janeway's voice. Nostalgia was still an unfamiliar feeling for her.

The former Starfleet captain looked as if she was considering something, then impulsively made the suggestion out loud. "Care to join me for a drink and catch up while we wait out the storm, Seven?"

Janeway's spontaneity caused her to smile briefly. "I accept," she stated simply.

"Wonderful. Now, if I remember correctly, there's a nice little place right around this corner and down the hall…" Janeway trailed off, taking the lead.

=A=

=A=

Two hours later, slightly flushed and cheeks aching from smiling, Janeway glanced at her chronometer. 1900. The ferocious storm had long since passed.

They sat propped on their stools and cradling drinks, making themselves at home in the bar. The reminiscing about Voyager had started when the bartender replied I'm a bartender, not a meteorologist, to Seven's inquiry about the storm. Both of them had glanced at the other and chuckled, thinking of the Doctor's affinity for those same statements.

In the midst of so many memories, Janeway had barely gotten around to actually catching up with Seven. The other woman seemed to be thinking the same; she broached the topic before Janeway could.

"Admiral, what business do you have on Fero? There is little here but resort living and tourism."

"Not official business, certainly," Janeway grinned. "I'm here on vacation."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I did not know your vocabulary contained such a word."

The older woman's smile melted into a crooked one. "Starfleet brass will do that to a person," she explained. "I can hardly stand sitting at a desk and wading through bureaucratic red tape every day. I'm not suited for it."

"That is clear," Seven agreed, taking a sip of her drink. She studied Janeway's face. "I would have anticipated your frustration without difficulty."

Janeway acknowledged the knowing statement with a nod. "What about you, Seven? Here on vacation?"

The only indication that something was awry came when Seven averted her eyes. "Yes."

Even through the buzz of the alcohol, Janeway picked up on her former crewmember's unease. She shifted to place a hand on the younger woman's arm, leaning in with concern. "I don't like the sound of that yes. What's wrong?"

Seven managed to suppress a smile. "Your ability to 'read' people has always been… unnerving."

"I'd prefer you not change the subject, Seven. What are you really here for?" Janeway did not find Seven's avoidance amusing, and her tone underscored that point.

"Vacation, as I said." Seven stared insubordinately back into the older woman's gray eyes.

The Admiral remained visibly unconvinced. "There's something you're not telling me."

Seven said nothing, gazing down into her glass even as she felt Janeway's eyes on her. A very familiar feeling of being stalemated settled on both women for several seconds, their stubborn personalities clashing for the thousandth time.

"Where are you staying, Admiral?" Seven switched, unwilling to linger on her reasons for being there.

Janeway let it pass—for the moment, and not without a hard glare at the blonde. "Just down the road. Big place with the ridiculous amount of windows, Starfleet insisted that I stay there. Yourself?"

"I will be staying at a location farther down the road. The smaller place at the end of the bend, near the rockier section of shore." Seven kept her eyes on her drink.

"Mmm," Janeway acknowledged, nodding disinterestedly. She drained her glass in one long swig. "And how long are you here for?"

"Three weeks."

"Same." Her curt tone made it clear that she was still bothered by Seven's refusal to share whatever was wrong.

The bartender came by to refill Janeway's glass, but she declined, standing instead. The music in the bar had become too loud and its patrons too raucous; the flight in had been long and her bones were beginning to feel the effects. That was what she told herself, at least.

Seven knew that the Admiral was about to excuse herself before the words were spoken, and a twinge of regret lodged in her chest at parting on less than excellent terms. She stood quickly, hoping to repair the damage.

"Admiral, I'm—"

"It's fine, Seven. I should be going to check in. Please enjoy yourself on vacation… perhaps we'll see each other around."

Seven was left nodding as her former captain walked away.