This story was written and takes place shortly after the events in Prey and Retrospect, which aired in February, 1998. For the rest of the JB series, similar events will take place as they did in various episodes on the television show as I was writing the series, but because of the relationship developed at this point between Janeway and Seven, obviously the televised missions wouldn't happen exactly the same. Certain discrepancies will arise, but whenever possible, the events taking place on the television show were adhered to within the confines of the JB universe. (Of course, at the time, I also didn't know I was writing a series which would span 50 stories and two more seasons of Star Trek: Voyager.)

Just Between Us
G. L. Dartt

The low hum of the warp drive was a comforting sound in the dark of her quarters where Captain Kathryn Janeway lay in bed, tossing restlessly in the tangled sheets. She had just pulled an eighteen-hour, double duty shift while the ship had been navigating carefully through a nebula. She hadn't really needed to, of course. Tom Paris, her helmsman, was more than capable of getting them through unscathed but she had felt compelled to remain on the bridge until the ship had cleared the last of the spatial anomaly. She immediately turned in as soon as leaving the bridge but sleep turned out to be an elusive quarry for her, coming in small fits of dozing which brought with it disturbing images and faint wisps of dreams that left her uncomfortable and disconcerted when she returned to consciousness.

She gave up finally, rolling wearily to her feet as she tossed the blankets aside, not caring where they landed.  She pulled on the fresh uniform she had replicated for the morning and left her quarters, unsure of where she was going, just feeling this vague need to stay in motion until her mind quieted enough to rest. The ship was on night watch, the corridors dimly lit and empty as she strode through them. It was only when she was actually stopped in front of the door which slid obediently open for her that she realized her wandering footsteps had brought her to astrometrics.

Hesitantly she walked in, unsure of just what it was she was looking for. Or who. She allowed herself a moment's castigation. Let's just be honest for a moment, Kate, she thought. You know why you ended up here. She didn't know whether she should be disappointed that the lab was empty ... or relieved. Sighing, she turned and walked directly into the tall, slender form of Seven of Nine who had just entered the lab.

"May I help you, Captain?" the ex-Borg asked as she reached out and caught the smaller woman, holding her up easily until she had regained her equilibrium.

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Seven," Janeway complained mildly, clutching at the young woman as she caught her breath. "Sneak up on me, I mean."

"I was unaware that was what I had done," Seven replied calmly. "I shall endeavor to make more noise in the future."

"No, I was just kidding," Janeway said, then noticed she was still hanging onto the woman's arms. She let go immediately ... if a bit reluctantly. "It's my fault. I thought you weren't here."

"I have just returned from engineering," Seven explained. "Is there something I can assist you with?"

Janeway stared blankly at her for a moment, forgetting why she had found her way here, then finally nodded briefly. "Actually, I'd like to talk to you for a few moments, if I could," she said.

"Of course," Seven replied. She stood patiently, waiting.

"Somewhere a little more appropriate," Janeway prompted gently. She put her hand on Seven's arm. "Like cargo bay two...or my quarters. It's somewhat personal and I wouldn't want anyone to overhear." Janeway suddenly realized that they were totally alone right here in astrometrics and unlikely to be joined by anyone this late at night. Too late to take the words back now ... not without looking like a complete fool.

"Very well, Captain," Seven said without any variation in her tone.

She followed obediently as the captain led the way into the corridor and Janeway was sure that if she had suggested they talk in spacesuits on the outer hull, Seven would have been equally obliging. She generally followed the captain's suggestions ... when it suited her.

But, when she didn't ... Janeway sighed and closed her eyes briefly. They had fought such tremendous battles, most recently when Seven had steadfastly refused to help them return a member of Species 8472 to the rest of its people. In fact, Seven had ended up transporting it to the Hirogen ship, directly countermanding the captain's wishes. Janeway had been tremendously disappointed in her. Yet at the same time, she could not help nursing a grudging admiration at how Seven had absolutely refused to give up her individual right to follow her own instincts. It was just too bad that a starship command structure didn't work that way.

Janeway hesitated in the turbolift. Her quarters were more comfortable than cargo bay two where Seven maintained her Borg alcove, yet the captain had an odd reluctance to take Seven to where she 'lived'. However, Janeway had an even greater reluctance to figure out exactly why she felt that way. Dismissing her qualms, she looked up and stated clearly, "Deck three."

When they entered her quarters, Janeway was dismayed to see her bedding plainly visible on the floor through the door leading to the bedroom, still rumpled, the blankets strewn about in abandon as if she had been engaged in some sort of enthusiastic lovemaking rather than her struggle with sleeplessness. Unbidden, she turned to look at Seven. The woman was standing in the center of the living area, hands linked behind her back, her head tilted, as was her custom, ever so slightly so that the implant framing her left eye was closest to whatever she was examining. At the moment, it was the linens on the floor.

"You sleep there?" Her expression was confused.

"No, I sleep on the bed," Janeway explained, feeling inane.  "I was just a little messy when I left." And felt a faint blush color her cheeks. Then, wondered why the hell she was blushing. Too much recent, she thought, and too little sleep.

Too little of what else is done in a bed you mean, a tiny voice insisted. Not for four long, achingly lonely years. How much longer do you intend to remain alone?

She was getting rather dismayed at these little comments in her head, nudges from her base inner self reminding her that yes, she was Human, she did have needs and desires just like everyone else, the captaincy be damned. They had been especially insistent whenever she happened to be in the presence of Seven. She was becoming increasingly afraid it would start affecting her command, particularly when it came to the young woman that she had rescued from the Borg. Already she reacted to Seven with stronger emotion when the Borg did something wrong, and was more voluminous in her praise when the young woman had done something noteworthy. Janeway had ascribed it to her maternal interest in Seven, the desire to see her become fully Human and join the Voyager family.

Sure, it's purely maternal the way you wonder just what those ridges on her abdomen beneath her uniform are, her little voice noted snidely, or how it would feel to trace them lightly with your fingertips?

God, she must be losing her mind.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"I do not require liquid at this time," Seven responded.

I certainly do, Janeway thought fervently, though she programmed the replicator to provide some iced tea rather than the stiff whiskey and soda she truly wanted at the moment. She held the chilled glass to her forehead for a second after it materialized, then turned and looked at Seven.

"Sit down," she offered.

"I prefer to stand," Seven responded as Janeway echoed the words automatically in her head. Seven was somewhat predictable in her responses on occasion.

"Of course, you do," Janeway said before taking a seat herself on the low couch located in front of a large window. Long streaks of light passed just beyond the transparent aluminum, the distortion of the warp field around the ship affecting the view of stars. "However, I would really like you to sit down so I don't have to crane my neck looking up at you."

Seven allowed a faint touch of surprise to cross her face. "I apologize, Captain," she said as she gingerly lowered herself to the chair, arranging herself so that her knees were perfectly aligned and provided support for her hands which were folded neatly on her lap. "I was unaware that my standing caused you discomfort."

"Only when the discussion is extensive, Seven," Janeway said, a little more at ease now that they were both at eye level.

Seven looked attentive. "This is to be an extensive discussion?" she inquired.

"It could be," Janeway said. She leaned forward, placing her untouched tea on the glass coffee table, and  casually rested her hand on the Borg's knee. "Seven, I want to talk to you about how things have been between us the last little while, particularly regarding our recent conflicts."

"I thought the matters surrounding each incident had been resolved," Seven said, sounding honestly puzzled.

"I just want you to understand that, however things work out, I never stop believing in you, Seven," Janeway said earnestly. "I never stopped believing in your place with us, never stopped believing that I made exactly the right decision when I arranged to keep you with us.  I realize that I must seem a little hard on you at times ... harder than I should be. I want to apologize for that ... and I want you to know that, if you want to talk about anything, anything at all, I'm here for you. If there is something you are feeling or thinking that you don't understand, I am more than willing to help you sort it out."

Seven thought about that for a moment. "Thank you," she replied.

But it was said in a tone that indicated she was saying it as a result of the Doctor's intense tutoring of her in social graces rather than because she meant it or even understood why she should. Janeway took a breath and contemplated her ice tea for a moment. She tried from a different angle.

"Seven, I realize that we don't always look at things the same way," she said gently. "And sometimes that results in misunderstandings, but they are never personal.  I only want to help you adapt to Humanity."

"How would you do that, Captain?" Seven asked with what seemed honest curiosity.

Janeway blinked, taken aback by the question. "I would listen," she offered. "Provide what advice I could based on my longer life experience as being Human. Give you a shoulder to cry on."

"Crying..." Seven examined that thought. "I do not believe I 'cry', Captain."

"Perhaps you should," Janeway said compassionately. "It can help a great deal."

Seven frowned slightly. "I have never observed you crying," she allowed. She paused. "Do you?"

Janeway bit her lip. This was not going at all the way she had planned. "Sometimes," she admitted reluctantly. "When I'm alone and it all seems to be hopeless, or when I'm very frustrated."

Seven looked vaguely puzzled. "This helps you?"

"Yes, it does," Janeway lied. She felt like she had just stepped in something that was now rapidly rising above her head and threatening to drown her. "Why don't you talk to me about how you're feeling," she persisted, trying to steer the conversation back to Seven. "I assure you, this is just between us, Seven. I'm asking as your friend, not as your captain. I know we've had our differences, and we seem to have been at odds many times recently. I just want you to know that I want us to be 'all right'."

The blonde woman studied her closely for a long moment. A faint line appeared on her forehead. Finally she shook her head. "I do not ... I am unaware of any negative feelings towards you, Captain," she said. "I bear no animosity for past actions. 'We' are functioning at acceptable levels."

"I'm glad," Janeway said though that wasn't quite what she was hoping to discover about Seven. Just what was it you were fishing for, Kate? She clamped down on her incessant inner voice. "I would like for us to be close, Seven. I know what it's like to be alone in a crowd."

"Indeed," the Borg said. She regarded Janeway gravely. "Is there anything else you wish to know, Captain?"

Janeway took a deep breath. "No," she said, defeated. "That will be all."

Seven stood up abruptly, turning to exit from the room. She stopped in the doorway and looked back. "Have ... pleasant dreams, Captain," she said, clearly another of the good Doctor's lessons coming to the fore.

Despite that, however, a smile touched the corners of Janeway's lips. "Thank you, Seven," she said.

The younger woman hesitated, nodded briefly, and left, the door sliding shut behind her. Janeway leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms across her eyes and groaned.

"That went well," she muttered out loud into the uncaring night.

The bright lights of engineering seemed to pulsate in time with the smooth flow of the warp core. At her console, Lt. B'Elanna Torres carefully studied her readouts. A small power fluctuation had caught the chief engineer's attention, and with an annoyed snort, she checked to see who had last accessed the board. Sure enough, her inquiry revealed that Seven of Nine had been utilizing the console sometime during the previous evening.

This had to stop. It wasn't so much that the Borg was causing any damage. In fact, the Klingon/Human hybrid admitted to herself, sometimes she even improved efficiency. But dammit, Seven had to learn the proper channels. She had to learn how the command structure worked, and how that meant that nothing was to go on in engineering without B'Elanna's authorization.

Fuming, the compact, solid woman slapped her comm badge. "Computer, where is Seven of Nine?" she said.

"Seven of Nine is currently in astrometrics," the computer responded promptly.

Her footsteps muted on the carpeted deck, B'Elanna stomped out of engineering and took the turbolift to the deck containing the astrophysics labs where the tall, slender form of Voyager's resident Borg was calmly going about her duties. She looked up briefly at the arrival of the chief engineer, but did not stop what she was doing.

"Seven, I've warned you about going into my board without my authorization," Torres said, leaning over Seven's console with an intimidating glare.

Seven hesitated, turned. "I attempted to acquire your authorization last evening," she replied coolly. "However, you were not in your quarters, and the computer refused to bypass the privacy code on your communicator unless it was an emergency. I did not deem it an emergency."

B'Elanna opened her mouth to respond, then remembered exactly where she had been the night before, and why she had slapped a privacy code on her communicator. In fact, at around the time Seven had been accessing her board, she and Tom had been ... a dark flush colored her cheeks.

"Would you have preferred that I had overridden the code?" Seven asked politely. "It is my understanding that when the code is in place, the crewmember in question does not wish to be disturbed."

"No," B'Elanna waved it away. She realized that Seven was somewhat limited in her options, nor could the engineer expect everyone's work to come to a halt just because she and Paris were spending some quality time together. Grudgingly, she dug up the grace to admit it. "I'm sorry, Seven. I shouldn't have come down on you so hard."

Seven hesitated, obviously searching the list of all-purpose phrases the Doctor had provided her with. "No ... harm done," she said finally. There was an awkward pause as they regarded each other, but before B'Elanna could figure out a way to take her leave without looking like more of a fool than she already felt, Seven continued. "May I ask you a question, B'Elanna Torres?"

B'Elanna froze, wondering what that question could be and why she had this sudden sense of foreboding about it. "All right," she agreed cautiously.

"You and Tom Paris were engaged in non-reproductive copulation last night, correct?"

B'Elanna's mouth opened, closed ... opened again. She knew she looked remarkably like a beached fish at the moment, but she couldn't quite seem to get the words out. This was why she hated dealing with Seven ... never knowing what was going to come next. It was bad enough that the Klingon hybrid sometimes felt short and unattractive next to the sleek beauty of the Borg, but Seven had no compunction about asking whatever was on her mind with little attempt at discretion or politeness. Yet, why should she get angry since Seven was usually asking out of an honest attempt to understand the people around her? It didn't keep B'Elanna from being profoundly annoyed and disconcerted, however.

"Yes," B'Elanna finally managed. "Is that the question?"

"No," Seven responded promptly. "I wish to know why you would indulge in such activity when there is no apparent purpose to it."

I just had to come up here, didn't I? B'Elanna cursed silently. She looked around, but it was clear she was the only one currently in the lab. "Um, Seven, this is the sort of thing that someone else could talk to you about and help you understand much better than I can," she said uncomfortably, and then added with a touch of mischief: "Maybe the captain could answer your questions."

To the Klingon's considerable surprise however, Seven immediately looked away, and was that a faint blush coloring those alabaster cheeks? For the second time in as many minutes, B'Elanna was flabbergasted ... and intensely curious. Suddenly, this conversation started taking on a few intriguing layers for the engineer.

"Uh, Seven, there is a purpose to ... indulging in such activity. Tom and I care a lot about each other," she said, moving closer and lowering her voice. What the heck, it wasn't what she would choose to talk about with this iceberg, but she knew she had to give a little in order to get any information in return. "When two people care about each other, there is a desire to be intimate. The emotional connection is strengthened when there is a physical one. To want to be with someone, to love them, to share your life with them ... it's a powerful force."

"This occurs only between men and women?" Seven asked.

B'Elanna started to reply, stopped, and thought about it. I don't think this is about Harry at all, B'Elanna revised her thinking. Tom had told her about Kim's disastrous encounter with Seven, shortly after she had arrived on board, and since then, the young ensign had maintained his distance, despite his great attraction to the Borg. While Torres was many things, being insensitive was not one of them. If Seven was asking these sorts of questions after all this time, there was a reason for it ... and how she asked them was as important as what she asked. Carefully, B'Elanna felt around the conversation.

"No," she said slowly. "Not always. There are often pairings between men and men, as well as women and women. It's not necessarily my favorite cup of tea, but I do know the emotions are just as strong and the desire to be physically close is just as intense in those pairings."

"If someone were interested in you ... that way," Seven offered  slowly. "How would you know?"

B'Elanna smiled. "Someone goes out of their way to engage in contact with you," she explained. "They try to be alone with you whenever they can. They take note of what you're doing and when. They make time to talk with you privately about feelings and emotions. They seem to touch you a lot. Things like that."

Seven contemplated that. "I believe I understand," she said. She looked at B'Elanna. "Thank you," she said. Clearly, the conversation was concluded as far as she was concerned.

B'Elanna was less inclined to end it. "Have you noticed someone doing that with you a lot lately, Seven?" she asked.

"Yes," came the short response.

"You want to tell me who?" Torres insisted delicately. She was close to something juicy, she could tell.

Seven opened her mouth to answer when they were interrupted. "All department heads, please report to the conference room," came Chakotay's voice over their comm badges.

Torres hesitated, knew the moment was lost, and with an internal Klingon howl, she nodded at Seven and left. All the way to the upper deck, she mulled over the conversation in her head, wondering who might be interested in Seven; interested enough that even the Borg had caught on to it. The trouble was, the only two people who tended to spend a lot of time with Seven were the Doctor ... and the captain.

B'Elanna stopped dead in the corridor, the flow of the crew moving around her without pause as she looked at that thought from all angles. Was it possible? She chewed on her lower lip. Just because she wouldn't choose Seven as a suitable lover didn't mean the captain wouldn't. Of course, the engineer could never speculate about it with anyone ... not even Tom. If she was wrong ... and it got back to the captain ... B'Elanna's ears flattened against the sides of her head. She could only imagine that conversation. Janeway's lectures could peel the paint off a ship's hull, and leave the object of them feeling approximately two centimeters high ... and that was when she was in a good mood. B'Elanna had no desire whatsoever to experience one where the captain's personal life was involved.

Shuddering at the thought, B'Elanna resumed her course to the conference room, shoving her current bit of speculation deep into the recesses of her mind. This was one piece of data she would never willingly bring up in the course of casual conversation ... at least, not without more information to substantiate it.

The hour was late, and once more, a restless Janeway found herself haunting the corridors of Voyager. This time, however, she was careful to avoid astrometrics ... or cargo bay two. Life was complicated enough, she decided. As if being lost in the Delta Quadrant, out of touch with both the Federation and Starfleet, with the full responsibility to get this crew home safely weighing on her shoulders wasn't enough. The last thing she could afford to do was to fall in love ... no, she wouldn't go there either. It wasn't love, she told herself sternly. Captains don't fall in love ... or they shouldn't.

For a brief moment, she considered her fiancé Mark and the life with him that had been left behind five years earlier. Certainly, she had not expected him to wait for her. Heavens, he hadn't even know she was still alive. Still, it had hurt when, after finally managing a brief contact with the Federation before the Hirogen satellite system was destroyed, she received a 'Dear Jane' letter from Mark, telling her that he had married someone else.

Was that when she started looking at Seven with more than the normal concern a captain should show her crewmember? For three and a half years, she had felt anchored by the thought of Mark, convincing herself that she had someone even if she couldn't be with him at the moment. When it was clear he was no longer there to hang onto, her heart had been immediate in its demand that it was time to move on and start evaluating other possibilities.

But why Seven?

Janeway took a deep breath, pausing in front of the windows which lined the outer hull of the corridor. Outside, the stars beckoned fitfully through the warp field. They had always attracted her, from the time she was very small. She always felt the urge to try new things, to go places she'd never been, meet new people, discover new cultures. Was Seven just a further manifestation of that?

She rested her forehead against the cool transparent aluminum, closing her eyes. She had always found her pleasures in the company of men yet, though Chakotay was there and they had shared an attraction while trapped together on an otherwise uninhabited planet late in the second year of Voyager's journey, the relationship had never made the necessary transition to intimacy. In any event, it was not her first officer that now occupied her thoughts. It was not his mouth that fascinated her, or his touch she craved ... or his body she longed to wrap herself around. Instead, a lean, cool blonde with ice-blue eyes and metallic implants consumed her mind and cried out to her heart.

"Captain?"

Startled, she whacked her head against the transparency, and then brought her hands up to hold onto it, savagely suppressing, by only the thinnest of margins, the urge to say something obscene. Sometimes it was very difficult being captain. Blinking through the tears of pain which had sprung to her eyes, she looked sideways to see Lt. Commander Tuvok, her chief of security, regarding her with concern ... or at least, as much concern as the dark-skinned Vulcan was apt to show.

"Are you injured, Captain?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Tuvok," she said, trying not to wince as she brought her hands down. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Nothing in particular, Captain. I am conducting a routine patrol of the ship before turning in," he said. There was a pause as they looked at each other. He raised an eyebrow. "If I may, Captain, you have seemed somewhat ... distracted, recently."

Tuvok was her closest friend on the ship, the one person she had known the longest, and with whom she felt the most comfortable. But could she talk to him about this? Vulcans, with their relentless pursuit of logic, had little to no sympathy with Human emotions such as desire or love. However, was it sympathy she needed, or a clear, concise appraisal of what she was going through? Tuvok could be counted on to be totally objective, and she knew she could trust him to keep her confidence.

"I guess I have been, old friend," she admitted. "Would you mind if I accompanied you on your patrol?"

"Not at all." He lowered his head slightly in acknowledgment, understanding that what she really wished was to confide in him. Yet, Janeway had difficulty beginning, and for long moments they strode through the ship in silence.

"Captain, does this have anything to do with Seven of Nine?" he prompted finally.

Astonished, the captain took a breath. "Why would you say that?" she managed evenly.

"It was a logical assumption, Captain," Tuvok said. "It is Seven of Nine who has required your counseling recently, and who has occupied a great deal of your personal attention. It is also Seven of Nine who has disobeyed orders, and defied your command. Are you concerned that she is not suitable to become a member of this crew?"

Janeway paused. "What do you think of her, Tuvok?" Janeway asked finally, rather than answering his question.

Tuvok contemplated the query briefly. "Her thought processes are logical and straightforward. She demonstrates an advanced intellect, a laudable curiosity about things scientific, and is not prone to emotional outbursts. I find her to be quite satisfactory in both her conduct and her demeanor. If she is somewhat ... independent in her interpretations of your orders on occasion, she is certainly not the only one on this vessel to display such initiative."

"No, she isn't," Janeway admitted. She shook her head. What had she expected Tuvok to say?

"You are also physically attracted to her," Tuvok added. He took three more strides before he realized that Janeway was no longer walking beside him. Calmly, he stopped and looked back, raising an eyebrow. "Am I incorrect, Captain?"

Janeway eyed him narrowly. "Am I that obvious?" she said.

"Not necessarily," Tuvok offered. They resumed their walk. "I have known you a long time, Captain, and I have shared many events in your life that were emotional in content. That affords me a certain awareness of when you are attracted to someone. My first choice in this was Commander Chakotay, but after further observation, it was clear from your reactions to Seven that she meant more to you than mere concern for a crewmember. I do find it unlikely, however, that it would be noticeable to people who do not know you as well as I do."

"I guess I'm grateful for that much," she said. If there was a tremor in her voice, neither of them chose to notice it. They came to a stop and Janeway realized that they were in front of the security chief's quarters. She looked at him, and allowed the bleakness to reach her eyes. "What am I going to do, Tuvok?"

"Are you asking my opinion on a romantic matter?" Tuvok responded, vaguely surprised.

Janeway spread her hands, allowing a wry grin to touch her lips. "You're all I have at the moment, my friend," she pointed out.

Tuvok considered for a long moment. "I am hesitant to offer such, Captain," he finally admitted. "Human relationships have always seemed rather fraught with emotional intricacies. There is the complication of your position, of Seven's unfamiliarity with Humanity, of the consequences of such a relationship failing. Yet ... Humans cannot control their emotions as Vulcans can, and I have learned that to suppress such emotion without acting upon it can sometimes be equally as complicated."

Janeway rested a hand on his arm. "Tuvok, you've been absolutely no help at all," she told him with great sincerity.

"Unarguably true, Captain," he agreed readily. He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her. "What do you want to do?"

Janeway let out a short bark of unamused laughter. "What do I want?" She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and stared unseeingly at the silver moldings of the corridor wall. "I want her, Tuvok," she said after a lengthy silence, her voice low and small in the stilted air. "But I'm the captain. It would be totally inappropriate to get involved romantically with any of my crew, let alone an ex-Borg who still doesn't know what it means to be Human, or even if Human is what she wants to be. Yet, despite all that ... I still want her." She released her grip and took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "I'm going insane," she said in a tone of utter disgust.

"I have heard it said that insanity is the perfect description of love," Tuvok advised. "You feel what you feel, Captain. Whether I, or even you, understand why you do is irrelevant. What is most important; will Seven accept it?"

Janeway looked at him. "You think I should tell her?" Unhappily, she shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Tuvok."

"Perhaps not," he allowed. "However, it is the only advice that I can offer."

Janeway smiled wanly. "I do thank you for it, my friend," she said. "And for listening. But, I fear this is something I have to work out on my own."

"I am sorry I could not be of more assistance," he said gravely.

"I know," she said gently. She nodded at the door behind him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tuvok. Pleasant dreams."

"Good night, Captain," he said before entering his quarters.

She stared at his door for a long moment, then slowly made her way back to her own quarters on deck three. The dim setting of the running lights in her bedroom was enough to navigate by, and she did not bother bringing them up as she undressed and slipped on a nightgown. With a weary sigh, she pulled back the sheets.

That's when she noticed her bed was already occupied.

"Lights."

That came out as a strangled squeak, and swallowing hard, Janeway tried again.

"Computer, lights." The room brightened, revealing everything. Janeway, frozen with one knee on the bed, a white-knuckled grip on the blanket, her other hand resting on her chest like some damsel in a bad holo-novel. Stretched out before her, the long, sleek form that was Seven of Nine lounged languidly on the mattress.

The blonde hair had been loosened from the tight bun the Borg customarily wore, flung across the pillow like the finest gold. The soft grey of her abdominal implant framed the bottom of her full breasts, before spreading across her flat stomach and around her back, an offshoot tracking partway down the left leg which, together with its elegant partner, seemed to run on forever. Her skin glowed alabaster against the deep blue of the sheets as she rested her weight on her right elbow, half turned toward the captain.

"Seven," Janeway said tightly, looking at the slim form displaying itself on the other side of the bed. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Waiting for you," Seven responded quietly. Her eyes were dark pools of azure, regarding Janeway with calm, cool intensity.

"Why?" Janeway managed. She was sure that her head was going to explode at any moment. Really, it had no other option, her heart having sent the blood thundering through her veins like an unchecked warp core breach.

"I have examined all the possible explanations for your recent behavior, Captain," the Borg explained in a reasonable tone. "I concluded that this is the proper response for me to offer."

"Oh," Janeway said. She carefully lowered her left hand to her side, and released the sheet from her right with difficulty, prying each finger away with the greatest of will. Okay, she thought, I can do this. For god'sakes, I'm a Starfleet Captain. Surely there is some sort of diplomatic solution for this. The only problem was, she couldn't remember this particular situation ever being covered in the Officer's Manual.

Seven abruptly rose up to her knees and crossed the expanse of bed. Janeway found herself freezing once more, remarkably like a deer caught in the headlights of some vehicle bearing down, intent on crushing the very life from it. The young woman stopped a bare breath away, rising over the captain like a goddess. Janeway could feel the heat radiating off Seven, smell the heady scent of a clean, ready female body, touched with metallic tang and ... the faintest trace of perfume? Seven made no attempt to touch her. Instead, she looked Janeway up and down with slow consideration, her lips pursed slightly.

"I find you aesthetically pleasing, Kathryn," she said.

"Do you now?" Janeway's mouth was dry. She couldn't remember ever being this terrified ... or aroused ... in her entire life. She forced herself to breathe slowly.

Seven frowned. "It is acceptable for me to call you Kathryn, is it not?" she asked, suddenly uncertain. "I researched this quite thoroughly this afternoon."

"You did?"

Seven reached out and placed her hand on Janeway's chest, just above the scooped neck of the peach nightie, so that her fingertips were touching the smooth skin of Janeway's throat, pressing lightly on the pulse point there. Concern darkened her eyes.

"Captain, are you all right?" she asked.

Why did people keep asking her that? Of course, she wasn't all right. How could she be all right? There was a naked Borg in her bed who had determined that, because of the way her captain had been acting lately, she was required to offer up her body to her like a sacrificial lamb.

Well, what's wrong with that? her little voice exclaimed, rubbing its figurative hands together with glee. By all means, Katie, m'girl, let's have a go. Isn't this why we're here, exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life, boldly going where no one has gone before. Hot damn!

"Seven, I really need you to go sit down over there right now," Janeway said earnestly, gesturing to the lounger on the other side of the room.

Puzzled, the younger woman obeyed, climbing down off the bed and taking her place on the chaise, posture perfect, legs together, hands linked modestly on her knees. Still naked.

Janeway reached down and found a robe, drawing it on with relief and an internal howl of protest, but she was captain, and she knew her duty. As much as she would like things to be different, it was impossible for her to get involved with a crewmember. Especially this crewmember.

She took a seat on the end of the bed opposite Seven, and regarded her uneasily. "Seven," she said carefully. "Why did you do this?"

Seven was slowly becoming upset, her porcelain skin flushing a ruddy pink. "I believe I have erred, Captain," she said. "I was under the impression you wanted to form a physical connection with me. That you wished our relationship to become more intimate. I apologize."

The distress in her voice broke through the Captain's carefully constructed reserve, and before she knew it, she was off the bed and kneeling before the Borg, grasping Seven's hands tightly. "Oh no, Seven," she said. "I'm the one who should apologize. I gave you the wrong idea."

"You do not wish to be with me," Seven said. There was bleak rejection in her voice, an open, aching pain in her eyes.

Janeway started to speak, and then stopped, dismay overwhelming her. Her innate honesty prevented her from allowing Seven to accept responsibility for this. The young woman's instincts had been completely correct.

"Seven, please listen to me," Janeway said. "I know this will be difficult for you to understand, but I hope you can. I do want to be with you. I would love for our relationship to be more intimate. Unfortunately, it's impossible. It simply can't happen."

Seven studied her closely. "Why not?" she asked flatly.

"It wouldn't be fair to you," Janeway said. Unbidden, she reached up and brushed the loose strands of hair from Seven's face, her fingers lingering, despite herself, on Seven's cheek. "Seven, I am truly sorry, but I'm already claimed by this vessel, and its crew. You deserve someone who can love you totally. I can't give you that."

"I require you to be with me, Kathryn," Seven said helplessly, with such stark need in her plea that Janeway felt herself crumbling. Was that how she sounded to Tuvok?

"Seven," she whispered. Helplessly she searched for the words that simply did not come. "Why?"

Seven blinked. For a moment, the composed ice woman was back. "You are intelligent and in excellent health," she explained with confident thoroughness. "You possess courage, compassion, humor and strength in great quantities. You are successful within your chosen fields, both as a member of Starfleet, and as a scientist. According to my research, you are imminently suitable as a mate, and the only person on board this vessel worthy of my consideration."

Despite the circumstances, Janeway found she was tremendously flattered, and amused at herself for being so. "Thank you," she said dryly. "However, I can't be your 'mate', Seven. We're both female."

Seven examined her closely. "Is that the problem, Captain?" she asked curiously. "You object to same gender sexual intimacy? I assure you, it is quite natural, appearing in approximately twelve-point-three percent of the Humanoid population. With the advances in cloning and in cross-species fertilization, it is no longer a matter of reproduction that determines how one chooses a life partner."

"I know that," Janeway explained patiently. She felt like she was going down for the last time. "I have no problem with you being a woman, Seven. I've never found myself ... feeling as I do for a woman before, but that's not what's stopping me."

"You do have feelings for me?" Seven seized on it quickly.

Janeway took a deep breath, then finally surrendered, closing her eyes. "Yes, Seven, I do," she admitted. "For some time now."

Seven was silent for long moments. "I admit, I do not understand all I am feeling," she finally ventured. "I only know that when I am in my alcove, it is your face I visualize prior to regeneration, and it is the first thought that comes to me when the cycle is complete. I am ... satisfied when I please you ... I am uncomfortable when I do not. When I am not in your presence, my mind is increasingly occupied with the most insignificant details about you. When I am in your presence, I find I ... function better."

Janeway opened her eyes, regarding the young woman with perplexed yearning. "Seven, I'll be honest. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about you," she said slowly, astonished to find that she was actually considering the idea despite her internal qualms. "I know I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of having no one to hold, no one to hold me. When I look at you, it's not as a captain looks at a crewmember, it's as a person who wants to be with another in every way possible. I realize my needs are purely selfish, and I can't see any advantage for you in this ... yet, I'm finding it harder and harder to fight this."

"Then, perhaps it is best that you do not fight it at all," Seven advised her seriously.

Carefully, the young woman reached out and cupped the captain's face in the palms of her hands. Janeway could feel the cool metal of the mesh on her right cheek, the warm flesh of Seven's palm on her left. Slowly, Seven leaned forward and pressed her mouth gently against the captain's. For a long, dazed, exquisite eternity, there was nothing else but Seven's soft lips, the velvet taste of her, the sweetness of need no longer denied. Despite all her trepidations, Janeway found she was unable to resist the rising onslaught of desire, sliding her arms around Seven and pulling her close, taking command of the young woman with all the passion four years of intense loneliness had suppressed.

"Captain," Seven said huskily when Janeway finally ended the kiss. "I wish to indulge in non-reproductive copulation with you."

Janeway bit her lip. It would not do to laugh at such an intense moment, but god, they were really going to have to work on Seven's phrasing. She nuzzled the Borg's ear, her voice a low, gentle growl. "Call me Kathryn. Your research was correct there ... and we're going to make love, my darling."

"'Make love'," Seven queried, head tilted as she tasted the words. "Yes, let us 'make love'. Now."

She abruptly escaped Janeway's embrace, rising to her feet and reaching down imperiously. Fighting a smile, Janeway took the proffered hands and allowed herself to be led to the bed. Seven promptly crawled onto it and stretched out once more, looking at the captain expectantly.

Oh my, Janeway considered as she slipped the robe from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. This might be more difficult than she had originally thought. Somehow, in her fantasies, everything had been rose petals and soft touches, straightforward with an instinctive knowledge of what to do. No hesitation, no confusion and certainly not the six foot reality of powerful Borg in full, splendidly healthy womanhood. It occurred to her suddenly that there might be a certain amount of logistics to this.

Oh, this is great, her little voice was back. This wouldn't be a problem if you had only been a little more adventurous in the past, but nooooo, you had to limit yourself to Human males. You wouldn't even try an alien here or there. Now, you haven't the slightest clue as to how to handle all this woman. She'll expect a lot more than any man would, you know.

Janeway raised her eyebrow rakishly. She had never been one to back down from a challenge, and she certainly wasn't about to start now. She used her thumbs to dislodge the thin straps of her nightgown and it fell with a soft whisper of silk to puddle about her feet. Janeway noted the appreciation in Seven's widened eyes, and offered the young woman a long slow smile of joy and desire.

"I do hope you paid close attention to your research, Seven," she said as she crawled onto the bed. "You're going to need it."

Seven of Nine watched as Janeway slid onto the bed beside her. The captain was so ... what was the word the Borg sought and could not find? It was hard for her to think clearly. She wondered if there were something wrong with her implants, a feedback loop perhaps. She was also confused by how swiftly and easily Janeway had taken complete command of the situation, and now Seven found that she could only follow the older woman's lead.

Beautiful. That was it. The captain was beautiful. The reddish tint in her hair, the way her eyes sparkled, shading from an even grey to a bright blue that dazzled with life and passion. The firm, compact body which moved with a litheness and sureness that made it difficult for Seven to catch her breath at times ... and the sound of Janeway, the commanding voice, so low and throaty that it sent unexpected surges of emotion through Seven whenever she heard it.

Seven knew she would be exposed to different and unfamiliar sensations by accepting this experience, but she had not expected there to be so many. Not only was she unable to identify them all, they collided and mingled, creating entirely new emotions. As Janeway lowered herself onto her side to Seven's right, pressing her warm length against her body, the new sensations threatened to overwhelm the young woman entirely.

Seven discovered she was trembling as Janeway gently ran her fingertips over the ridges that formed her abdominal implant, dipping down to lovingly stroke the scarred flesh between the bands. At the same time, she felt the captain's lips gently brush over her neck and up along her jaw, kissing her lightly in a teasing pattern that traced over her chin and finally captured her mouth. Then, Janeway's hand left the implant and covered Seven's right breast, the palm rasping against her nipple which immediately hardened, and the young blonde spun helplessly into a pool of dizziness.

"Seven." Janeway stopped kissing her, and pulled back after a moment of this. "You must remember to breathe," she instructed with a note of concern.

Seven obediently drew a shuddering breath, then another, feeling the dizziness recede and allowing the other sensations to move back to the forefront of her attention.

"Do you want me to stop?" Janeway asked, stilling her hand, allowing it to rest over the swell of Seven's breast.

"No!" Her answer was quick and emphatic, and Janeway laughed, a deep, sensuously low laugh that curled around Seven, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She gasped as the captain took the nipple gently between forefinger and thumb, rolling it between the tips, and once more pressed her mouth over Seven's.

This time, Seven remembered to keep the air flowing steadily through her nasal passages, though it required a much greater effort than normal to process the oxygen into her lungs. She noted that her heart rate was also increasing exponentially, her circulatory system speeding up to keep pace with her respiration. She tried keeping her eyes open so that she could observe what was happening, but they stubbornly persisted on closing.

This was arousal, she thought as she let her tongue touch Janeway's which swirled around her teeth and across her bottom lip. She was aroused. It seemed that this emotion ... this arousal ... required the expenditure of a considerable amount of physical energy, some of it, quite involuntary. Her nipples felt tight, aching and she felt the need to arch her back upward without knowing why. Then, Seven understood exactly why as Janeway's mouth left hers and trailed down across her chest, covering one of those nipples with satiny warm moisture, a gentle pulling around the stiffened flesh. She heard a sound, unfamiliar, a cry of sorts and dazedly realized it was coming from deep in her throat without any volition at all.

Janeway's hand left her other breast, followed the path of her abdominal implant once more to where it abruptly ended, just above her genitalia. The captain's fingertips were lightly tangling amongst the curls; thin strands which had appeared at the same time the hair follicles on her head had been stimulated into growth, no longer inhibited by the Borg implants. They were blonde, darker than the hair on her head or her eyebrows and until now, Seven had not realized how sensitive they were. The tickling sensation of the captain's light, scratching motion made Seven's hips rise upward and she flexed her knees, her legs parting unconsciously. So much of what was happening to her seemed purely instinctual. She didn't know why her body would react in such a way. Then it became wonderfully clear as Janeway moved her fingers lower, sliding down into the tender flesh that was now open to her, fondling Seven with tender insistence amid the heat and wetness.

Where was all this moisture coming from? The analytical part of her mind grasped desperately at the slightest bit of data to keep from being totally lost in the rest of her brain, which seemed to be staggering drunkenly about in sheer delight. What was it? Lubrication. Part of the arousal, the physical manifestation of readiness. Readiness for what?

She cried out at the penetration. Not the invasive procedures of metallic implantation, but warm, loving and very slow, a single finger gently entering the Borg's body, curling upward to seek ... what? There, a spot in the surrounding tissue that seemed beyond Janeway's reach but one she persisted on kneading even as she brought her thumb into play on an outer part of Seven's genitalia, manipulating a protruding ridge of flesh that seemed to consist totally of exquisitely sensitive nerve endings. The analytical part of Seven's mind promptly lay down and surrendered. It could no longer function in a brain that was rendered completely helpless by delirious pleasure.

Seven could not control the guttural moans that escaped her, or the spasms that took over her body. Blindly, she reached out to the other woman, wrapping herself around her, holding on with all that was left of her. Her mouth was seized by Janeway's demanding lips which muffled her cries as the captain continued her assault on the Borg's senses without pause until Seven lost all grasp of where she was and what was happening.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Seven reclaimed the scattered pieces of herself, her sated mind reluctantly nudging its analytical offshoot to get back to work as the onslaught of messages from startled and overextended nerve endings eased off and once more became comprehensible. She became aware of the body on top of hers, a compact form that held her with firm and loving arms, gently kissing her face as the captain whispered words that made little sense, but provided comfort nonetheless.

"Kath ... Kathryn," she managed to utter. "My eyes ... they are full of moisture."

A soft smile as Janeway gently wiped the tears away. "Yes, I know, my darling," she reassured her. "You're crying."

A pause as both respiration and circulation returned to something approaching normal. "Kathryn," Seven said in a low voice. "My research was not adequate to prepare me for the actual experience."

"It never is," Janeway informed her with knowing affection as she hugged Seven tightly, kissing her sweetly.

Seven spent several moments simply enjoying this, the feel of Janeway's mouth on hers, the soft movement of lips and tongue against her own. She spread her fingers across the captain's back, pressing the smaller body against hers, pleased by how Janeway snuggled into her embrace, trying to be even closer. She could tell that the other woman's respiration had increased, felt the hard nipples of the smaller breasts jabbing into her chest. She slid her knee between Janeway's legs, feeling the heat and wetness bathe her thigh and she understood that Kathryn was extremely aroused which in turn, bestirred her own passion once more. She wanted to touch the smaller woman all over, generate the response that Janeway had inspired in her, but her research had proven insufficient once ... would it do so again?

"Kathryn," Seven asked softly. "I wish to reciprocate what you have done for me, but I feel I will require assistance. Will you show me what to do?"

"I thought you'd never ask," came the throaty chuckle. "Come here."

For the rest of the night, the analytical part of Seven's mind found itself being utilized in a way it had never before conceived ... but certainly found informative.

Janeway swam up from the depths of unconsciousness, a pleasant ascent through soothing darkness. She gradually became aware of a soft weight on her, the warmth of another close by, the sharp edge of a metallic implant digging into her thigh.

Her eyes flew open.

Oh God, she groaned silently. What have I done?

Carefully, she took stock of the situation, easing her thigh away to a more comfortable position. Seven was sprawled gloriously over her, head resting on the captain's chest, one arm pinning Janeway's torso to the bed, a long leg tangled in hers. Janeway looked down into her lover's face, mere inches away from her own. Seven's eyelashes cast butterfly shadows over high cheekbones, breath coming easily through the fine nose. The full lips were parted slightly, revealing the white flash of teeth as if she smiled over dreams that cradled her safely. Wonderingly, Janeway traced a fingertip lightly over the eyepiece.

Seven was asleep.

Janeway wondered if that was a good thing. Seven customarily regenerated in her alcove; the captain had never known her to sleep before. On the other hand, there had been a lot of firsts this past evening, and she certainly didn't seem to be harmed in any way ... from anything that had occurred.

Unbidden, a smile curved the captain's lips as the memories of the night before flooded her with a warm glow. There had been rose petals and soft touches, she thought. Along with savage passions that threatened to consume both women in its intensity, with sweat slick desire, and tumultuous embraces that could have cracked bone under different circumstances.

Janeway threw back her head, breathing deeply. God, she hadn't made love like that since ... well, she had never made love like that. She had been the aggressor ... and a woman shyly exploring the first rites of an unfamiliar sexual expression ... the experienced lover gently guiding her partner through paths unfamiliar ... possessing ... and being possessed. All things to all things, she thought.

Seven had been .... amazing, for lack of a better word, utilizing her affinity for learning quickly with the knowledge she had acquired during her 'research', possessing a body that was strong, flexible and wildly enthusiastic. Yet at the same time, she had displayed an incredible gentleness that had touched Janeway's heart, a soft passion that captivated her utterly.

A soft sigh made her look down in time to see Seven's eyes flutter open. Confusion reigned in their azure depths as she blinked, looking around. Then, they fastened on Janeway and grew immediately dark with desire. She rose up like a big cat over her prey, bringing her mouth down over Janeway's, capturing her lips with demanding tenderness, lowering her body onto the captain with slow deliberation.

For long moments, Janeway allowed herself to get lost in the touch and taste of the younger woman, trying to absorb the feel of her skin against her before finally, with great reluctance, she was able to pull her mouth away.

"We can't," she said with a groan.

Perplexed, Seven looked down at her, stray strands of soft hair falling down to tickle Janeway's cheeks. "I do not understand, Kathryn," she said softly.

"My duty shift starts in twenty minutes," Janeway reminded. "And so does yours."

"You deem twenty minutes as insufficient time for us to ... make love," Seven stated.

Janeway laughed, a throaty chuckle that caused the Borg to shiver in reaction. "I'm afraid so, my darling," she said. "Especially when you consider we must shower and get dressed."

Seven considered this. "Unfortunate," she commented.

Janeway wrapped her arms and legs around the larger woman, holding her tight against her, ignoring the metal ridges that imprinted onto her belly. "I agree," she said, eyes sparkling. "After our duty shifts, however, we'll have plenty of time to be together."

"That is acceptable," Seven murmured as Janeway pulled her head down once more for a long, slow, deliciously absorbing kiss. Then, too soon, Janeway had to gently push her away and roll out of bed.

"Come on," she ordered, standing nude by the bed and reaching out a hand. "It'll save time if we shower together."

That prediction was somewhat presumptuous, however, as they discovered that showering together made for some rather time consuming play, and it was a breathless Janeway who appeared on the bridge some twenty minutes late.

"Good morning," Janeway said brightly as an ensign handed her a morning cup of coffee. She claimed her command chair, and smiled cheekily at her first officer.

"Good morning, Captain," Chakotay said. He observed her closely. "I must say, you seem in fine spirit this morning."

Janeway waved it off, leaning back on her chair. "Never better," she said breezily. "Loaded for bear and ready for whatever the universe has to throw me today."

"I'm glad," he said, returning her smile. He had actually started to worry about the captain the past few weeks as her mood became increasingly more distant and colder. Whatever it was, however, she seemed to have thrown it off, which was fine with him. A happy captain tended to make for a happy ship.

He nodded at the monitor set in her armrest. "Long range sensors have picked up a promising system," he said, tapping controls to bring up the information. "Two class-M planets with no sentient life signs. All the readings indicate that they might make perfect shore leave material ... not to mention restocking our food supplies."

"Sounds promising," she allowed, examining the data.

With a comfortable familiarity, the pair of them set to work. Like most captains, Janeway tended to schedule her best people on duty when she had the bridge and it made for an easy day. At the helm, near the front of the bridge, Tom Paris cheerfully altered course at the captain's command for the system the two senior officers had been discussing. It had been a long time between shore leaves and although the holodecks were finally up and running again after their recent encounter with the Hirogen, simulations never quite matched the real thing.

At the operations console to the rear of the bridge, Ensign Harry Kim intently programmed a roster for the first wave of shore leave, and transmitted it to the first officer's console, fixing it so that he and Seven of Nine were on the same list. Though she and Harry had never managed to connect on a romantic level, Chakotay knew that the young operations officer always had hopes. After all, it wasn't like the Borg was interested in anyone else, he thought as he approved the schedule after scanning it. Across the bridge, behind the tactical station, Tuvok eyed Janeway surrepititously for a moment, undoubtedly curious about the captain's sudden good humor, but the Vulcan did not hesitate as he formulated his security schedule. Shore leave was something that presented its own unique set of problems to the officer, and he went about preparing for them with logical efficiency.

Thus, the day progressed quickly, each officer knowing his or her duty, each performing with the air of anticipation that always seemed to occur whenever there was a possibility of shore leave. It was late when the turbolift doors slid open, and the bridge crew cast a quick glance over to see Seven enter before resuming their attention to their posts. Chakotay noticed that Janeway's gaze lingered a touch longer on the young woman for whatever reason, but the captain maintained a professional disinterest as Seven came to a stop in front of her command chair, the long sleek form standing at attention, hands linked behind her back.

"Yes?" Janeway asked calmly as Chakotay favored the ex-Borg with an inquiring look.

"I have completed my duties in astrometrics," Seven informed the captain. "I am aware that your duty shift ends in two-point-six minutes."

"And?" Janeway allowed slowly, appearing mystified as to where this was going.

"I believe we now have an appropriate period of time for us to 'make love'," Seven offered. "Since this morning left us an insufficient amount."

Chakotay's teeth immediately clamped down on the inside of his cheek with savage intensity, forcing himself to keep his attention fixed firmly on the Borg implant above the left eye of the icy blonde looming over them, totally unwilling to shift his glance ever so slightly to the right to see just what the captain's reaction to all this was. The sharp intake of breath gave him a certain amount of insight, however. From the edge of his perception, which suddenly seemed to be taking in the entire expanse of the bridge, the first officer was aware of Tom Paris's sudden, startled look as he half turned his chair, then just as suddenly, the lieutenant turned back to the helm, and displayed an intense contemplation of the navigational readouts.

Across the bridge, Tuvok raised an eyebrow, undoubtedly fascinated by this unexpected display of Human behavior, obviously intrigued by the captain's expression. Certainly, Chakotay could not remember ever seeing Janeway's face turn that particular shade of pale before. The first officer noted that, with the exception of Tuvok and Seven, everyone on the bridge was being extremely obvious in their absolute refusal to look anywhere near the direction of the captain.

"Come with me," Janeway said, her voice dangerously low. "Now."

A touch of confusion crossed Seven's face as Janeway got up and led the way across the bridge, but she was quick to follow. The captain's eyes met Tuvok's as she passed him, anger and dismay warring within their blue-grey depths, but she did not speak to her old friend as she swiftly led the younger woman through the door leading to her ready room, leaving behind a dead quiet, filled with a tension that was almost visible.

Finally, Chakotay cleared his throat. "This does not leave the bridge," he ordered, then frowned as Paris turned. "No, Tom," he warned, shaking his finger for emphasis. "Not even to B'Elanna."

Paris, his mouth half-open to ask his forestalled question, closed it with a snap and nodded, turning back to his board. As he did, Chakotay flicked a quick glance over his shoulder at Harry who was refusing to look up from his console, his handsome face flushed a deep crimson, dark with ... what? Embarrassment? Anger? The first officer didn't know, but he didn't think it could be any more intense or emotional than what the captain was going through at the moment.

Captain Janeway clenched her fists as she walked around her desk. Fury clashed with profound humiliation as she tried to make sense out of what had just happened. She turned to unleash her temper on the Borg, only to discover Seven was no longer behind her. Impotently, the words expired in her throat as she found the Borg calmly disrobing next to the low sweep of couch on the upper level of her ready room.

"What are you doing?" she managed to blurt.

"Preparing to make love," Seven offered as if that should be obvious. She cast an arched look on the captain. "Is that not why we came in here?" She was bare to the waist now, her full breasts already displaying hardened tips in the muted light reflecting through the large windows behind the couch.

"Wait," Janeway pleaded as she quickly mounted the short flight of stairs to the upper deck. Her anger had dissipated, leaving her totally confounded as she reached out and grasped the woman's arms, halting the removal of the brownish mesh-like garment. "Stop," she requested, more gently.

Confused, Seven obeyed, standing passively as Janeway pulled the uniform back up until the Borg was once more fully dressed. "I do not understand," she said, her pale eyes searching Janeway's face.

"Sit," Janeway said. "Please."

Seven glanced at the couch, then back at Janeway before slowly lowering herself to the blue cushions. Janeway perched herself on the edge of the low table, directly in front of her. She took the young woman's hands in hers, and held them tightly.

"Seven, what just happened on the bridge was totally inappropriate," she said.

Seven considered that. "Why?" she asked.

Janeway took a breath. "Because Humans prefer their sexual encounters to be ... private," she said. "I want our encounters to be known only to us."

Seven regarded her evenly. "I have researched this as well," she said. "Humans have a taboo on discussing these matters. The source of that reluctance to speak openly is usually the result of shame. You are ashamed of me. You are ashamed of what we have done."

"I am not ashamed of you," Janeway objected strongly. She tightened her grip on the other's hands, feeling the metal on Seven's hand digging into her palm. "Seven, I've come to ... you're very special to me. What we share is infinitely precious, but there is the inescapable fact that as captain, I'm in a position that makes it exceptionally difficult to be involved with someone, particularly when that someone is a member of my own crew." She studied the smooth planes of the features before hers, the line of high forehead and glacial blue eyes that so captivated her. Involuntarily, she released one hand and raised it to stroke Seven's cheek, cupping her chin between forefinger and thumb.

"I know this is difficult for you," she continued in a softer voice. "It's difficult for me, as well. Can you just accept the fact that there are certain things you cannot discuss with me, or about me, while in the company of the rest of the crew?"

Seven frowned faintly. "Very well," she allowed. "I will require specifics, however."

"And you will have them," Janeway promised earnestly. She smiled as she used her fingertips to gently trace the line of her lover's jaw.

"I wish to kiss you now," Seven said abruptly. "Is that acceptable?"

Janeway leaned forward. "That is very acceptable," she said as she covered the full lips with her own, pulling the Borg close to her, and losing herself in her kiss. When they finally parted, she heard a soft sigh from Seven as she rested her head against the captain's shoulder, and Janeway closed her eyes. "Just for a moment," she warned softly as she allowed the embrace.

For long moments, they held each other, hearing the sounds of the starship surround them. Janeway could feel the tension in Seven's body, the way her breath had quickened, but the young woman made no move to go any further, content to gently nuzzle Kathryn's right ear. Janeway felt a wave of tenderness go through her, and she tightened her grip, closing her eyes briefly. It felt so good to be here with Seven, to just let the universe stop moving for this precious space of time. Then, too soon, she had to pull away.

"Will you meet me in my quarters at 2100 hours?" she asked as she looked into the suprisingly warm eyes of the Borg.

"Of course, Kath ... Captain," Seven responded, then she stood up and straightened her outfit. She regarded Janeway with an inquiring look. "So long?"

"There are things I need to do," Janeway explained. She hesitated, then added with a tone of authority. "Dismissed."

Seven flinched slightly, then dipped her head in recognition and left the ready room. Janeway immediately collapsed as soon as she left, putting her face in her hands as if she could somehow bury herself away. Oh God, she thought fervently. This is going to be so hard. She noted her little voice was content to be silent now. Sorely aggravated, she finally lifted her head, and stared dismally across her ready room. The little flinch from Seven had slashed through her heart as easily as a razor, but what else could she do? Seven had to understand that Kathryn as Captain, and the Kathryn who called out her name in the heat of passion, were two totally different people.

The feeble beep of the door chime interrupted her chain of thought, and she glared gloomily at the door. Damage control so soon? She got up and swiftly took her place bhind her desk on the lower level. "Come," she said.

Chakotay entered the room. "I have the most recent specs of the planetary readings," he said, handing her the padd.

She nodded, accepted the device and scanning the data.. "We'll have to send a preliminary away team," she instructed.

He nodded. "I'll get right on it," he said. However, he did not move, shifting uneasily from foot to foot in front of her desk

Janeway suppressed a sigh. "Out with it," she said, not looking up.

"Un, Captain, I just wanted you to know that what happened on the bridge ... stays there," he said. "My orders."

Janeway raised her head, meeting his eyes. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "But I think we both know that this sort of thing is impossible to keep quiet for long."

Chakotay nodded his head. "I know," he admitted. On an ordinary ship, on ordinary patrol in the Alpha Quadrant, a rumor generated and flew with the speed of light. On this ship, here alone with very little outside information to occupy its crew, a rumor breached the warp ten barrier. He darted a glance at her from lowered eyes. "Uh, Kathryn ... you and Seven?"

Janeway took a breath, put down the padd and folded her hands on the surface of her desk, giving him her full, undivided attention. "Is there a problem, Commander?" she asked.

He opened his mouth, hesitated, tried again. "No, Captain," he said. He turned to go, then looked back. "You should be aware, however," he added. "Seven of Nine's rotation has brought her up for away team duty. Do you want her in the party that will beam down first?"

Janeway felt her face tighten, but with a supreme effort of will, she did not allow it to go any further. The first away team down on a new and unexplored planet tended to have a high casualty rate overall. If there was some threat, some danger that the ship's sensors could not detect, they usually were the ones to experience it. Yet, it was a necessary duty, and one that suited some people better than others. Janeway, herself, had always looked forward to it, the risk adding that little bit of thrill to what was otherwise routine. The thought of Seven doing it, however, made her heart catch in her throat.

Seven was more than qualified, however, and every capable member of the crew was assigned this duty at one time or another. There was no justifiable reason for the captain to object to the Borg going down there.

"If she is scheduled, then she will join the away team," Janeway said evenly, with a hint of chastisement in her voice.

"Of course, Captain," Chakotay said, and apparently decided that now was an excellent time to leave.

Janeway stared unseeingly at her computer monitor, a hundred scenarios rushing through her head, most of which ended with Seven's torn and bloody body being returned to her on the transporter pad. How many away missions had she seen end in just such a manner?

How many have you seen go off without a hitch? her little voice reminded her acidly. Aren't we getting the slightest bit melodramatic here, Katie? Every single reading on that planet shows it to be totally benign without a lifeform any bigger than a breadbox. It's seismologically stable, the atmosphere reads 99% Earth normal and even the weather is calling for sunny periods with partly cloudy skies. Will you please get a grip?

She covered her eyes with her hands, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her desktop. A heartfelt groan escaped her lips. She had known there were going to be major complications with this relationship. She just didn't think they'd start this soon. For crying out loud, they'd only had one night together.

Ooh, baby, but whatta night, the little voice chortled. Worth a minor complication here and there, don't you think?

And with that, Janeway could find absolutely no disagreement. The door chimed again. What was this, the kiosk at Deep Space Nine? she thought crankily.

"Come in," she said, a bit tartly.

Tuvok entered. "I have the assignments for the away team security," he said. "They are three of my best people. I, of course, will be the fourth."

Janeway just stared at him. "Why, Tuvok?" she asked. She spread her hands out hopelessly. "Are you expecting trouble? Is there something I don't know about this planet?"

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Not to my knowledge, Captain," he offered calmly.

"Then please, tell me why you need this much security on a simple away mission?"

Tuvok lowered his brows. "I believe you know why, Captain," he said.

"Oh, I know exactly why," Janeway said in exasperation. "I just want you to say it out loud so you can hear how illogical it is for yourself."

Back up went the eyebrow. "You are correct, Captain," he said. He frowned ever so slightly. "I was being illogical." His gaze turned inward. "How ... disturbing."

"I'm glad we can agree on one thing," Janeway said. "Is there anything else?"

"Nothing at the moment," Tuvok said. He nodded and abruptly left.

Janeway stared after him. How could she afford to go crazy over this? It seemed her crew was cheerfully doing it for her. The chime beeped again.

"Enter," she said with weary resignation.

It was Harry Kim with Tom Paris trying to block his path and not doing a very good job of it.

"Oh God," she moaned.

Seven found herself somewhat at loose ends after leaving the captain's ready room. She ignored the covert looks that shot her way as she exited the bridge, and in the turbolift, she considered what had happened. Somehow, she had crossed some invisible line and upset the captain. It was clear she required a great deal more research, but unfortunately, she seemed to have exhausted her supply of information from the databanks.

She analyzed her facts, and decided that they lacked the emotional content that was tainting her ability to make proper conclusions. Briefly she considered talking with the Doctor, then discarded him as being completely unsuitable. If there was anyone with less experience in these matters than her on this ship, it was he. Tuvok, although he was someone she trusted a great deal and even, she was forced to admit, liked, was equally unsuitable due to his Vulcan heritage. Unfortunately, that pretty much completed the list of ship's personnel with whom she would consider discussing such a matter. Kathryn, who would have been her first choice, was of course, out of the question.

She pondered that for awhile. She could not go to Kathryn ... because she needed advice about Kathryn. She wondered if this was what Humans referred to as irony. She did not think she liked it.

The turbolift deposited her near cargo bay two, and she proceeded to the large area which contained her Borg alcove and where she spent most of her off-duty time. Or had spent most of her off-duty time. It was curious how much she was looking forward to 2100 hours. This was anticipation, she thought. She had first felt it while lying in the bed awaiting the captain's arrival the night before. She found it quite pleasant. Though it was not as pleasant as what had occurred later. And hopefully would occur again tonight.

A figure lounged next to the large door leading to the cargo bay, leaning against the wall, arms crossed negligently over her chest.

"Lt. B'Elanna Torres," Seven identified immediately. "May I help you?"

The Klingon female shrugged. "Just wondering if you wanted to get a cup of coffee or something?" she offered with casual disinterest.

Seven paused. Very few members of the crew approached her on a social level. Those that had ... Harry Kim sprang to mind ... tended to desist after a few interactions. Torres had never indicated any interest in being close to her in any way. In fact, most of their encounters had been confrontational in nature, usually involving Klingon curse phrases that the Doctor later requested she translate for him during her routine maintenance. Seven wasn't sure why Torres was now making what could be considered a 'friendly' overture, though, she reminded herself, they had conducted a rather civilized conversation the day before. In fact, Torres had been very helpful in allowing Seven to solidify certain conclusions she had been formulating. Perhaps the Klingon's opinion towards her was changing, becoming less adversarial. The least Seven could do was attempt to ... what was the phrase? 'Meet her half way.'

"That would be acceptable," Seven said.

She allowed Torres to lead the way to the mess hall where the woman acquired a mug of the thick, Klingon coffee she preferred. Seven settled on a weak tea. Eating and drinking were still fairly new to her, and the ship's cook, a Talaxian named Neelix, had failed to come up with very many concoctions she enjoyed. Most of her body's energy requirements were still being synthesized directly from the ship's power cells.

They found a corner table and sat across from each other. Seven regarded the other expectantly.

"So," Torres opened. She was not the sort to dissemble when she wished to know something, particularly with Seven. "You were going to tell me yesterday who was coming on to you."

"'Coming on to me'?" Seven's eyepiece glinted in the lights of the mess hall.

"Who did you think was attracted to you?" B'Elanna amended.

"Captain Janeway informed me that there were certain things I was not to discuss about or with her in the presence of other crewmembers. Since she has yet to give me specifics,  I am unable to answer that," Seven responded, unaware that she just had.

Torres nodded slowly, eyes bright. "Of course," she said, spreading her hands out. "We wouldn't want to break any confidences."

Seven had no way of knowing that she was in the presence of the most formidable information seeker on the ship or that Torres's reputation of knowing all the buzz long before anyone else was common knowledge. She was ill prepared for the smooth and subtle assault that was suddenly unleashed upon her; so subtle that Seven never even recognized it as the skillful interrogation it was.

Intelligence was rarely a match for sheer cunning.

Tom Paris entered the mess hall some time later. As soon as she saw him, Seven realized that Lt. Torres would prefer to be with him. That was something she was just now beginning to understand and appreciate. Certainly, had she been offered a choice, she would spend every nanosecond in Kathryn's presence, and she stood up immediately as Tom approached the table. For some reason, he had a great deal of difficulty looking her in the eyes.

"So what are you two ladies discussing?" he asked with somewhat false heartiness.

B'Elanna favored him with a tiny frown. "Just some 'girl talk'," she said quickly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. She did not know what that was, but it was clear to her that, since her mate had arrived, Torres would no longer be interested in continuing the conversation. Seven nodded at B'Elanna and accessed yet another of the Doctor's lessons.

"Thank you for the coffee," she told her, though she had not had coffee and in fact, had found the tea undrinkable. It sat on the table, completely cold.

"Any time, Seven," B'Elanna responded. "I mean that."

As Seven left the mess hall, she did not look back to see Paris being immediately cornered. B'Elanna, who knew how to work on him with much more efficiency than she could ever hope to generate with Seven, having him reveal all the specifics of just what exactly had happened on the bridge before the door had barely finished closing behind the Borg.

Janeway toyed with an empty wineglass, staring pensively at the transparent table top. She was dressed in a long, flowing silk robe over a sheer satin nightie, both sapphire blue to highlight her eyes ... and wondering why she had bothered. After all, Seven would probably not react any differently had she dressed up in a Cardassian Gul's uniform, and stuck Bajoran earrings in both ears as well as one through her nose. The captain simply had no idea how to handle this relationship. All her experience, all the little flirtations, the playful games, were based on the male/female dynamic. This female/female experience was all new to her, not to mention the fact that she was dealing with a partner who had absolutely no experience with either dynamic.

The door chimed. 2100 hours to the second, she knew. She took a breath and stood up. "Come in," she said, surprised to hear how unsteady her voice was.

Seven entered, stopped at the sight of Janeway. "Captain," she said, seemingly startled. She hesitated, clearly searching through the 'list'. "'You look lovely.'"

Janeway smiled, a bit sadly. "It's alright, Seven," she said. "You don't need the Doctor's catch phrases with me."

Seven stepped closer. "No, Kathryn," she said, and her voice was unsure. "I mean ... those are the only words I have. You are ... to see you like this makes my chest feel strange. I find it difficult to inhale. I am sorry I am so unskilled in this."

Janeway was suddenly very glad she had taken time to put on her favorite gown. "Your words are fine," she said, gently. She wrapped her arms around Seven's waist and rested her chin on her shoulder. "And I'm not skilled in this either. We'll just have to figure it out together." She felt Seven's arms envelope her, holding her tight.

"I apologize about this afternoon," Seven said into her hair. "It was not my intention to make you uncomfortable."

Janeway raised her face to look into the pale blue eyes. "Seven, you're still learning your way," she said. "In all things, not just this. It's my fault for forgetting that. I can't expect you to know all the ins and outs of romantic protocol when you don't even know every day protocol. Let's just consider the whole thing a learning experience ... for all the crew."

This last was said in an ironic tone and with a small laugh, Janeway released her embrace, dropping her hands to grasp Seven's. She drew her over to the couch and sat down, pulling the Borg down beside her. Seven seemed content to leave the evening's pacing to the older woman, following docilely and not attempting to make any attempts at escalating the delicious tension that had started to rise between them.

"This is called anticipation," Seven informed her. "I enjoy it."

Janeway laughed. "I do, too," she said, pleased to discover that Seven recognized the heightened sensation between them and, even better, realized that it was better not to rush, particularly when they both knew where they were heading. She took a bottle out of the ice bucket where it had been chilling, and poured the thick red liquid into the two sparkling wine glasses that had been waiting on the table. "By the way, what's the story with you and Harry Kim?" she asked as she handed one glass to Seven.

Bemused, not only by the question but the glass as well, Seven shot her an odd look. "Captain?"

"I was just wondering," Janeway said, an amused glint in her eyes. "He came into the ready room this afternoon ready to challenge me to a duel."

Actually, he had come in to suggest that the captain was perhaps, quite possibly, less than entirely ethical in seducing an innocent and virginal Seven. Though he had been so utterly polite, and so careful in his phrasing that Janeway had not quite understood what it was he was implying at first. By the time she had, she wasn't sure if she should be angry or amused. In the end, she settled on gravely assuring him that, while she considered it absolutely none of his business, then or at any time in the future, her intentions towards Seven were completely honorable. Then, she threw him out of her office.

Seven considered that. "At one time, Ensign Kim 'flirted' with me," she said.

"Oh, he did," Janeway said, and was surprised to find the faintest taste of jealousy coloring her words. Oh, you got it bad, Katie, her little voice smirked. "And what did you do?"

"I informed him that I had insufficient time for flirting and that if he wished to indulge in copulation that he should disrobe," she said. She darted a suddenly uncertain look at Janeway. "It was shortly after I arrived ... I did not feel this way about you then," she added awkwardly.

Janeway waved it off. "It's all right, Seven, " she said. "What happened next?"

Seven appeared perplexed. "He seemed frightened and quickly left."

Janeway let out a startled bark of laughter. "Really," she said. She took a sip of her drink and chuckled, imagining this scenario.

Beside her, Seven carefully mimicked the captain's movements, taking a small amount of liquid from the glass and rolling it around in her mouth. Janeway watched this surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, ready to dodge in case Seven took it in her head to spit it out. Instead, she saw the Borg's eyes widen with appreciation as she swallowed. Janeway smiled with satisfaction. She had been careful in choosing something that she thought Seven could not only absorb without difficulty, but also perhaps enjoy. Tirellian wine seemed perfect, a splendid combination of that planet's finest berries which was light on the palate and only mildly alcoholic. She was pleased she had chosen correctly. And gratified to see that Seven continued to merely sip at it.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"It is very good," Seven said. "I like it very much."

"I'm glad," Janeway said. There was a moment while they continued to sip their drinks, Seven taking the opportunity to settle closer to the captain so that they were touching from their shoulders on down to their ankles. Janeway rested her free hand on Seven's thigh, stroking it absently. "I understand you're going down to the planet tomorrow," she said.

What are you doing? her little voice howled. You weren't going to bring that up, remember?

"Yes, I am assigned to the preliminary away team," Seven answered readily. "Away missions are always an opportunity for learning."

"Promise me you'll be careful," Janeway said, trying to bite the words back even as they slipped through her lips. She studied the light defusing through the ruby depths of her drink, steadfastly refusing to look at Seven although she was keenly aware that the other woman was observing her closely.

"I am always careful, Captain," the blonde said slowly.

Janeway nodded. "I know but ... I can't help remembering how you have been willing to up give your life to protect the ship in the past," she said. Shut up, shut up, shut up! her little voice screamed at her.

"Indeed," Seven reminded. "Kathryn, it was you who taught me that it was 'right' to sacrifice one's life in order to save another. I do not understand. Are you saying that is now incorrect?"

"No, I'm not," Janeway said. She bit her lip. She was making a miserable mess of this and had no idea why. She had ordered friends to go into dangerous situations before. It had been hard, but she had never questioned their ability to do the job, nor their capability to take care of themselves. But you weren't this wildly attracted to any of them either, her little voice noted.

"I ... I'm just worried about you," she tried to explain. "It makes no sense nor is it logical. But that's why love is the hardest emotion for Humans to deal with."

"You ... love me?" Seven was as wide-eyed as she tended to get, which wasn't very much but still fairly significant nonetheless.

"I...." Words failed Janeway. Great, now they fail you, her little voice said acridly. Getting your needs attended to and making some kind of serious, verbal commitment are two totally different things. You always were terrible at this. Janeway angrily crushed it into a startled peep. "Seven ... Annika, I do love you. I have for some time, or at least, I believe I have."

Seven seemed startled to hear herself called by the name her parents had given her, and had not been utilized since she had been assimilated at age six. She reached out her hand and carefully entwined her long fingers with Janeway's where they rested on her thigh. "I believe ... I love you too, Kathryn," she said softly.

There seemed very little else to say at this point so they didn't. Janeway raised her face to Seven and the blonde immediately lowered her mouth to cover hers. Somehow the captain managed to retrieve Seven's glass and place them both safely on the table, all without losing contact with her lips. Then, Seven was pulling her tight against her, her hands wandering over the redhead's body, seeming to delight in the silken material of the gown. Janeway reached up and found the clip at the back of Seven's head, releasing the long golden hair from its confinement, sending it spilling over her hands and down Seven's back. The captain immediately tangled her fingers in it, bringing Seven's mouth tighter against hers.

Her eyes flew open as she was suddenly lifted up in the air as Seven with her Borg-enhanced strength, easily picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. "Oh my," Janeway said, managing to pull away from Seven's insistent mouth for a moment.

"Is there a problem, Kathryn?" Seven asked huskily as she gently lowered the smaller woman to the bed.

"Not at all," the captain whispered as Seven straightened and began to remove her outfit. She sat up to follow suit when Seven stopped her.

"No," the younger woman said. "Could you ... leave it on? My access to your body is not limited by it and I like ... how it feels."

"Whatever you want," Janeway said with a throaty laugh. She leaned back, resting on her elbows as she watched Seven complete her disrobing. Absolutely, she told herself.  Whatever she wanted.

Seven really did have an incredible body, lean and sleek yet full breasted, the captain thought as she gave her full attention to Seven's undressing. Janeway had never really taken time to observe the feminine form before and was gaining a whole new appreciation for it. Even the Borg implants that Seven still required to sustain her life seemed to enhance rather than detract from her beauty. Although, Janeway did admit, sometimes those ridges jabbed into the most inappropriate places, particularly the ones that spread across Seven's belly. On the other hand, she was equally quick to admit, sometimes they added a whole new dimension when friction came into play.

Seven crawled onto the bed, looking for all the world like some lioness approaching her victim, long-limbed with her hair flowing wild and untamed about her face which was, as always, quite serious. Her eyes appeared to darken to a deep blue, mysterious and sensual, possessing Janeway in their grip as Seven crouched over her on her hands and knees.

Content to remain passive for the moment, Janeway looked up through slitted lids, a half smile on her face. The robe had fallen open, leaving only the thinnest of material between Janeway and the woman above her. Seven was deliberate in her movements, precise as she gently placed her right hand on Janeway's leg, just below the hem of the short nightie. Slowly she slid it along the soft skin of Janeway's thigh, pushing under the blue silk to run up over her hip and across her stomach, caressing with calculated desire.

Janeway felt her breathing deepen, trickles of pleasure stirring through her belly, lancing down to the juncture between her legs. Unbidden, she let them fall apart, and raised her hands to put them on the blonde's wide shoulders, pulling her down so that she could taste the wonderful full-lipped mouth. Seven leaned down for the kiss, but kept her body suspended, allowing her right hand to continue its sensual massage, supporting herself on her left. Long fingers stroked feather light across a nipple which responded immediately, and Janeway gasped into Seven's mouth as the hand shifted to manipulate Janeway's other breast beneath the silk of the gown, alternating back and forth between them.

Long moments of sheer bliss passed before Seven finally released the captain's mouth, trailing her full lips down Janeway's chin and throat, never stopping her fingertips careful stroking of the sweetly aching nipples. The captain could feel the heat of Seven's breath through the material of her gown as the Borg continued ever downward and she could not contain her moan as Seven reached bare flesh once more, kissing the tops of Janeway's thighs. She brushed her lips across the smooth skin to dip lower, seeking out the tender inner leg to the moisture gathering there. Janeway was profoundly glad that she had chosen to go without the matching panties to her favorite outfit this night.

She threw her head back, crying out loud as Seven's mouth covered her possessively, feasting on her with gentle and thorough strength. Helplessly, she groped for something to hang onto and instinctively, Seven freed her hands, sliding her right out from under the gown, so that she could capture Janeway's in her own. With that to anchor her, Janeway gave her full concentration to the sensation between her legs, the younger woman showing a complete and utter devotion that more than made up for any inexperience with this form of sexual expression. It took very little time at all before Janeway was shaking, overwhelmed by the rising sensation that could not, would not be denied. She arched, spasming again and again against the lips and tongue which did not cease until Janeway had collapsed, completely sated and no longer responsive beyond the occasional, involuntary shudder. Then, and only then, did Seven conclude her ravishment of the captain, sliding upward once more to be enfolded into an exhausted embrace, finding Janeway's mouth and kissing her deeply as if to re-energize her with her own passion.

"Seven," Janeway said throatily when her mouth was finally freed. "I believe I am going to have to recommend you for a commendation for exemplary service to a superior officer."

Seven considered this, looking down into the Captain's eyes. "You are being facetious," she told her. "Starfleet does not have such a commendation."

Janeway smiled wickedly. "It should," she said.

Seven thought about this. "Thank you," she said.

"No, thank you," the captain laughed low. She hugged Seven to her tightly, and nuzzled the long elegant throat. "Now, why don't you let me see if I can get a commendation from you."

Seven did not hesitate.

"That would be ... more than acceptable," she said.

Janeway stood in the transporter room, her hands white-knuckled as she gripped the side of the transporter console. She didn't even remember coming down here. Just an awful fog that enveloped her when they lost contact with the away team. The last message had come from the team leader, Chakotay, who was tersely explaining the odd behavior of a group of herbivores, small furry creatures with long ears that looked remarkably like snowshoe rabbits, and how they had began to gather about the away team. There was a chilling, audible intake of breath at the end of his report, then nothing before the shrill chime of an emergency beam-up sounded ... an automatic distress call sent by a team suddenly unable to use their communicators. It jolted the bridge into frenzied action with orders quickly being snapped, first to the transporter room, then to sickbay.

She had no real memory of abruptly standing and handing command over to Tuvok, or her controlled, semi-dignified dash for the turbolift. All she knew was suddenly standing here, the thin whine of the transporter as it activated reverberating in her ears as it pulled out the team. How many minutes had it taken for her to get down here, how long before they were able to filter out the confused mass of lifeforms swirling about on the planet's surface, finding the Humanoid ones amongst the lower life signs? She knew that normally it took fifty-three seconds to get to transporter room one from the bridge. How long had she been standing here? An eternity? Two?

The Doctor was standing there along with Paris and a few crewmen pressed into corpsmen duty, the medical team standing by as per emergency beam-out procedure. They had yet to know if they were needed. Then, the away team materialized on the transporter dais, and there was no more doubt about it.

There's so much blood, Janeway thought dazedly, even as her own roared in her ears, muffling the sound of people screaming. Several creatures had materialized with the away team, still attached to their victims, and phasers had to be used to cut them off, slicing through the necks, and  the heads manually pried from the torn flesh. Commands were snapped out, mostly from her, the captain was surprised to realize. Somehow, she was able to continue functioning amid the chaos, and she shuddered as she kicked aside the decapitated remains of one of the furry creatures, sending it skidding across the room which seethed with a sea of uniforms attending to the away team. There was the whine of transporters once more as they sent the most severely injured casualties directly to sickbay, and she peered anxiously through the crowd, trying to see who was gone. Then, Chakotay was in front of her, trying to brief her as dictated by protocol.

"They just attacked, Captain," he said. Red streaked his face and uniform, rents in the material showing yet more blood. "Swarms of them just leaping at us. Davis went down immediately, then Ryan. They were in a small hollow, the rest of us on higher ground. Seven got Ryan out, then went for Davis. The rest of us laid down a covering fire which kept most of them off of us while we waited for beam-up."

"There was no warning?" she said. Where was Seven? Wasn't there a brownish uniform carried out on a stretcher? How could her voice be so calm ... how could she stand here doing this without going mad? Or maybe she already had.

"None at all," he said. He smiled crookedly. "You'd have been proud of her, Captain. She saved both their lives." He didn't have to clarify which 'her' he was talking about.

"Thank you, Commander," she said. She felt faint. "I think you should get to sickbay yourself." He staggered a little and she caught him by the arm. "I'll help you there," she said, nodding at the transporter chief who left the console to assist her.

Somehow, they were able to carry him to sickbay where it was utter chaos. There had been ten people on the team, and none of them had escaped unscathed. Spare crewmembers with any skill with a hypospray were called in, using dermal-regenerators to repair the bites and slashes from razor sharp claws. The more serious cases were in the operating theater, the slim form of the Doctor, his bald head gleaming in the bright lights overhead, trying to stem the blood loss from their multitude of wounds before they went into hypovolemic shock. Paris was there with him, along with a few people who functioned as nurses during emergencies. Not for the first time, Janeway wished that Kes was still on the ship and still a part of the crew.

She handed Chakotay off to a young ensign who lay him down on a spare bed, and she began to make her way through the medical center, stopping here and there to give a word of encouragement or a pat of sympathy. She didn't know what she said, or who in fact, she was talking to. She was totally on automatic, operating on a strange plane where she did and said all the right things even as she was screaming inside.

Then, she saw her.

Seven lay on her belly on a table, raised up on her elbows as she watched the hectic motion around her with a detached interest. Loose strands of hair fell about her face which was streaked with blood and dirt. Her uniform was ripped and shredded from the attack, the right sleeve completely torn off to reveal the implant which was embedded in her bicep. The flesh on the back of her left wrist was punctured, the metal twisted and torn as blood welled through a gel medipad placed against it, being held there by her other hand.

She was so incredibly beautiful. She was alive.

Janeway made her way to the head of the table, and crouched down so that she could look into Seven's eyes. The Borg's eyebrow raised.

"Captain," she greeted calmly.

Janeway took a deep breath and brought her hands together in front of her, resting them on the table in a terse grip that made her flesh turn pale. "Seven," she said. Her voice was harsh and she swallowed hard, trying to clear out the lump in her throat. "Seven, are you all right?"

"I am still functioning," Seven informed her coolly. She shifted uncomfortably. "For the most part," she added. "Captain, I cannot recommend that planet for shore leave."

"No, I don't suppose you can," Janeway said, trying to smile and failing miserably. "Why isn't someone treating you?" She glared around the room.

"I am all right, Captain," Seven said in a stronger voice. The Captain resumed her eye contact and Seven nodded at her wounded arm. "Some of my Borg implants were compromised and the Doctor wished to repair them himself rather than leave it to another, less skilled medic. However, my wounds are not as critical as those of the crewmembers he is with now. I can wait. There is no danger."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it," Janeway said. She searched the face before her, seeing the slight tightening of skin around the eyes, and the thinning of her mouth that indicated Seven was in pain. The captain placed her hand onto the gel pack, allowing the Borg to relinquish her hold to the captain. She used her other hand to brush back the loose strands of hair dangling in Seven's eyes. "Don't tell me it doesn't hurt though."

"It is bearable," Seven allowed. "I will ... live."

"I'm sure you will," Janeway agreed. She wanted to reach out and take her in her arms, run away and find someplace where they could be alone, where she could take away all this pain, make it all better somehow. She had to content herself with pressing the medipad tighter to the arm, as if she could somehow draw the wound into her, taking it away from Seven. "Is there anything I can do?"

There was just the slightest curl to the corner of Seven's mouth, the faintest of smiles that reached her eyes. "What I wish you could do is impossible," she said quietly. "As I am somewhat incapacitated."

"Did you just make a joke?" Janeway asked in a low voice.

"It seemed an appropriate time," Seven admitted.

Janeway darted a quick look around, noted that no one was within range and leaned forward. "I would kiss you if I could," she whispered. "I want you to know that."

"I would let you, if you could," Seven answered in an equally low voice.

That did get a smile from Janeway, wan and unsteady as it was.

"Now, how is my patient?" came the Doctor's hearty voice. He bustled by the captain and took a quick look at the arm. "Keep the pressure on that," he instructed and then went to her side, lifted up the sheet covering Seven's back. "Oh my."

Concerned, Janeway tried to stand, though she kept her hand in place over the arm wound, craning her head in an attempt to see. "What's wrong?" she said anxiously.

"Severe lacerations in the left gluteus maximus," he responded clearly. He leaned over to speak into Seven's ear. "You've been bitten in the butt," he clarified.

"It is uncomfortable," Seven said, a hint of an edge to her voice. "I want you to repair it. Now."

The Doctor looked at Janeway. Didn't anyone find this humorous?

Her steel grey eyes were boring lasers through him.

Apparently not.

"It's only a flesh wound," he said accusingly as he retrieved a myo-vascular regenerator. "It would heal perfectly well on its own. Though the scar would be quite the conversation piece."

"I doubt my gluteus maximus is a regular topic of conversation," Seven said bitingly.

"You'd be surprised," he said brightly as he ran the device over the torn flesh, regenerating the tissue.

He used a dermal regenerator to finish up, leaving a pink and healthy swell poking through the ripped suit. Gingerly Seven sat up and he quickly went over the rest of her, nudging the captain aside so he could attend the gash on Seven's arm. He took his time, carefully cutting away the twisted piece of Borg implant. "You were lucky here," he said as he regenerated the flesh and then used a probe to invoke the mesh to repair itself, sending out tendrils to replace those that were lost. "Your implant kept whatever it was from getting a really good grip on you."

"Ryan called them 'widdle biddle bunny wabbits'," Seven explained, "just before they attempted to dismember her. She considered them....'cute'. Their jaws were capable of extending beyond its hinge, like certain species of Terran reptiles, and once they were attached, it was practically impossible to release their grip."

"Well, I can tell you that she doesn't think they're cute anymore," he informed her dryly.

"How is Lt. Ryan?" Janeway asked quietly, watching the doctor work with stony eyes. "And Davis?"

"They'll be fine," the Doctor said. "It was difficult to stop the bleeding since there were so many wounds, but I was able to handle it with my customary competence. Both will be back to duty in a few days." He sobered as he ran the regenerator over the three inch cut on Seven's right shoulder. "They were very lucky you were there, Seven. They probably would have died if you hadn't waded in and carried them away from that hollow."

"I was merely doing my duty," Seven said evenly.

Janeway felt torn in twenty different places. She looked down and saw that some of Seven's blood had gotten on her hand, and she clenched it into a fist, hiding that red stickiness from sight. She was terrified beyond belief at what just happened.

I can't do this, she thought blankly. I can't be in love with someone this much, and order them into a situation that could kill them. I can't stand by and watch them get put back together once it's over.

So what are your options? her little voice said with honest curiosity. You can't just wrap her up in a cocoon and keep her safe. This is a dangerous life we're living here.

No, Janeway thought. I can't protect her. But for both our sakes, I can stop loving her.

The bright sun beat down on the sandy beach, the wash of waves beating a steady tattoo against the shore. The second planet had proved as hospitable as the first had been hostile, as if to make up for its neighbor. The plant life provided several species of fruits and vegetables, which had been pronounced safe for Human consumption, and several landing parties were now gathering the bounty to supplement the food supplies. The part of the crew who were off-duty were gratefully spending time on the island they had discovered in the tropical zone of the planet, frolicking in the warm water, and generally recovering from yet another harrowing adventure.

Captain Janeway was neither off duty, nor was she frolicking, but she was on the island, along with a botany team who had set up a field lab to investigate the medicinal purposes of a certain kind of plant which the Doctor seemed to think was of great significance. She really didn't need to be here, but it was easier than being on the ship at the moment. Because of the multitude of tasks required when making planetfall, she had been successful in avoiding Seven the last week without it being noticeable. The Borg was currently assigned to another part of the planet, assisting a second scientific team who were examining minerals, determining if they had any use for the replicators.

However, Janeway didn't know how much longer she could keep this up. Especially since her crew was being so 'helpful'. On three separate occasions, she had to do some fast talking to keep Chakotay or Tuvok from taking over her duties 'so she could have some time off'. Finally she had to inform them that she was going down to work with the botany team. Then, she promptly had to prevent B'Elanna Torres, who was heading up the geological survey, from transferring Seven to the botany lab.

It was clear that everyone on the ship seemed to know of her new relationship. What surprised her most was the amount of approval she was sensing, and from the most unusual places. There was no question that Seven's stock had risen considerably in the last week with her rescue of the two crewmen but still, Janeway would have assumed that there would have been a great deal more resentment over the captain getting involved with any crewmember. At least, more than she had detected. She couldn't imagine what the reaction would be when she and Seven were no longer together. Or for that matter, Seven's reaction.

Are you sure you really want to do this? her little voice said slyly. Surely it's not going to be any easier to send Seven off on an assignment when you pretend you don't love her as opposed to her knowing that you do. It's not as if you have any hope of getting rid of your feelings for her in this century. You're just not that sort, Katie.

Janeway shook her head fitfully to dislodge the unwelcome thoughts and pressed her eyes against the microviewer screen once more. Maybe if she just worked hard enough, the whole thing would just take care of itself.

Yeah, right, her little voice blew a raspberry at her.

"Captain?"

Janeway looked up to see the Doctor grinning at her. He had apparently been the last to find out, but was more annoying than the rest of the crew combined, taking advantage of his Chief Medical Officer privilege by advising her on all the benefits a healthy sex life could bring to her. She remembered the earliest days in the Delta Quadrant with great fondness, when she could shut him up by simply telling the computer to end program.

"Yes, Doctor?" she said impatiently.

He nodded out the door of the makeshift hut constructed of bamboo-like material where they kept most of the equipment. "You have a visitor," he smirked.

She followed his gaze and felt her heart sink. Seven was walking across the sand towards the hut, gingerly picking up one foot and carefully placing it down on the shifting surface before lifting the other. Unbidden, a fond smile crossed Janeway's face before she remembered that she was supposed to stop loving her, and turned it into a scowl as Seven entered the hut.

"Captain?" she raised an eyebrow as she entered.

The Doctor smirked again. "I'll just see what they're doing over at the pool," he offered brightly and left, heading for a small tidal pool near the shore where they had established a group of mollusks as test subjects.

Janeway stifled a sigh and turned her attention to Seven. "Why aren't you with the other team?" she asked edgily.

Seven blinked. "I have completed my assignments," she said. "I am currently availing myself of my accorded shore leave."

Janeway felt her jaw tighten. Seven never accepted leave time, choosing to continue at whatever project she was working on or beginning another. So why did she have to start now?

Because she loves you, dolt, her voice said acidly. She wants to spend her available time with you, though god only knows why.

"I'm rather busy at the moment," Janeway said.

Seven perched herself on a stool. "I shall observe," she said, unperturbed.

Janeway rested her forehead against the top of the micro viewer, shutting her eyes briefly. She was going to have to do it now, she told herself. She straightened and looked at Seven. "No," she said firmly. "Come with me. We're going for a walk."

"A 'walk'?" Seven queried as she followed the captain out the door and down the beach, away from the rest of the people and the group next to the tidal pool. The Doctor took a moment to look up and smile in what he thought was paternal approval, and what Janeway thought made him look as if he were constipated.

Janeway set a brisk pace, forging into the sea breeze with a determined set to her jaw. Seven, who had little experience on such uneven terrain, had some difficulty keeping up, with only her longer legs keeping her within arm's length. She seemed glad when Janeway finally led her to a secluded cove. The crew had taken to calling it the 'Captain's Cove' because Janeway had tended to make her way there at the end of the day's duties to sit on the rocks, looking out at the sunsets which were spectacular over the ocean. By unspoken agreement, they left its solitude to her, according it to her by right of discovery and respect for her rank.

Now, she led Seven over to the formation of rocks where she normally took her moments of reflection and motioned her to sit down. "Seven, we need to talk," Janeway said seriously.

Seven obediently sat down on the hard stone, looking at her expectantly with warm blue eyes that reached in and grabbed Janeway's heart in a grip that threatened to rip it clean from her chest.

Janeway took a deep breath. "Seven," she said. "I've made a decision. This escalation of the friendship between us isn't working out. Our relationship was not meant to be intimate. It should have been left as it was, captain and crewman. I'm sorry I let it progress to this state. I want you to understand, it's not you, it's me. It's my position and all that entails. It would be best if we returned our relationship to one of pure professionalism."

Seven was silent, observing her with those steady eyes that had suddenly taken a greyish shade. Janeway could almost see the analytical Borg brain ticking over her words, dissecting each one and looking at them from every conceivable angle. Nervously, she swallowed as the seconds progressed into minutes, and the even gaze never faltered. Finally, Seven spoke.

"You are punishing me ... but I have done nothing wrong."

Janeway winced at the harshness in the tone, the raggedness of it. "No," she said quietly. "I'm not trying to punish you, Seven," she said quietly. "I'm doing what's best ... for both of us."

"Your explanation is insufficient," Seven said. Janeway noticed with a pang that the Borg's folded hands, placed properly on her knees, were white, clenched so tightly that she was afraid Seven would cut herself on her implant.

Perhaps emotion would work when reason did not, Janeway thought bleakly. "Seven, you adversely affect my performance as captain," she said brutally, standing up. "I worry about you when I need to worry about the ship and my crew. I cannot function at my best when I'm in love with you. Therefore, it is my intention to stop being in love with you."

Seven's reaction was once more delayed, almost as if she could not quite comprehend what she was being told. Finally, she stood up, deliberately contained. "Very well, Captain," she said. "I accept your need to do this." Her voice was without tone at all, totally Borg, while her eyes were shuttered, dark blue pools which revealed nothing. She turned to leave, but three steps away, she hesitated, and looked back. "You may succeed in your goal to stop loving me, Captain," she said softly. "However, I wish you to know that I shall never make the attempt to stop loving you."

Involuntarily, Janeway took a step toward her, but Seven was already walking away. Stricken, Janeway watched her go until she was only a mere speck against the sand and sea. Then, the captain sat down on her favorite perch for sunset watching, and allowed herself to weep, helplessly and hopelessly, wrapping her arms about her in an effort to keep the sobs from shaking her apart.

It did not make her feel better at all.

B'Elanna Torres smiled faintly as she rested her head on Tom Paris's smooth, muscular chest, the skin warm under her cheek. There was something to be said about spending time on a planet in a tent, she thought sleepily. A body just couldn't get this type of realism in a holodeck. The stars sparkled brightly through the trees, the firlike tops rustling peacefully in the night breeze, while the remains of the campfire sent up a thin line of smoke into the night sky. An occasional whiff of wood ash through the tent opening as she heard the solitary security guard quietly make his rounds. Then, from the opposite side of the mountain camp, she heard the faint sound of a transporter hum, the soft challenge from the sentry answered by the precise tones of Seven of Nine.

Startled, Torres sat up, cocking her head slightly in an effort to hear better. She wondered why Seven had returned, and nudged the sleeping Paris beside her.

"Hey, Seven's back," she hissed.

He snorted through his nose, grumbled something and rolled over, going back to sleep instantly. She spared him an exasperated look, then scrambled out of the sleeping bag. Pulling on a loose tunic and a pair of pants, she crawled out onto the soft mossy ground. Barefoot, she walked across the camp to the lab tent where a light burned, silhouetting a single figure moving about the interior.

Torres ducked under the flap and went in, stopping when she saw Seven intently looking through a microviewer. "Seven, I thought you were on leave," she said. "What are you doing here?"

"Analyzing specimen 743," came the even reply.

Torres frowned. The voice was different, distant, mechanical with little inflection, just as it had been when Seven first joined Voyager's crew. The Klingon moved closer with a certain wariness ... almost as if she were approaching a wounded animal. Why she felt that way, she didn't know. She halted about two feet from the woman who was neatly entering data into a padd, examining her intently. Something was very wrong here.

"Why aren't you still on leave?" Torres asked gently.

"I do not require leave," Seven said flatly, inserting another mineral specimen in the viewer.

Torres was silent for a moment, carefully considering her next move. She knew that Seven had been full of anticipation when she had left the camp earlier in the day. In fact, the Borg had explained exactly what anticipation was as she waited for her beam out, just as if the Klingon had no concept of the emotion, at all. Torres had found it rather endearing, something she'd never thought she'd ever associate with Seven of Nine. However, it seemed that all the anticipation had been for naught. Torres asked the next question with the utmost delicacy.

"Did you see the captain after you left?" she asked.

Seven did not look up as she entered more data into the padd. Another specimen went into the viewer. At this rate, Torres noted idly, the entire collection would be catalogued by breakfast. B'Elanna took a deep breath, gathered her Klingon courage, and accepted the necessity of stepping forward and grasping Seven gently by the shoulder.

"Tell me about it," she said. She made the ultimate sacrifice. "I swear, nothing goes beyond this tent."

Seven stiffened under her hand and Torres wondered if she was about to see if Klingon muscle mass could counter Borg-enhanced strength. Then slowly, the proud, aloof Seven seemed to collapse in on herself, the narrow bones of the young woman's shoulder suddenly seeming fragile beneath her grip as Torres lightened the pressure slightly, unconsciously.

"The captain ... told me she regretted our relationship and that it was affecting her ability to command effectively," Seven said bleakly, her breathing ragged, but her tone still controlled. Barely. "Apparently she intends to stop ... loving me."

"What?" Torres blurted, profoundly shocked. "That stinks."

"Indeed," Seven agreed, more with the tone than the words. She probably didn't know what 'that stinks' meant, but undoubtedly accepted it as accurate.

Torres pulled up a stool and looked at Seven compassionately. "I'm sorry, Seven," she said softly. Though she had never really warmed up to the Borg before this, now she found herself feeling very sympathetic to her, even protective in a strange sort of way. Falling in love had made Seven seem ... Human. It hurt her heart to see the Borg in such obvious pain.

Seven placed another specimen in the viewer and leaned forward, looking at the molecular breakdown of the mineral. "I continue to function," she said impassively.

"What are you going to do now?" Torres asked after a few seconds.

"Enter the data from specimen 747," Seven responded, apparently trying to draw some comfort from the scientific work she was doing.

Torres restrained herself from rolling her eyes. C'mon, she's in real pain here, she reminded herself. Even if she's trying real hard not to show it. Or even acknowledge it.

"I mean, about Janeway," she insisted.

Torres was disturbed. She had really thought better of the captain. Janeway had never seemed to her to be the love-'em-and-leave-'em type who would get a crewmember into bed, then dump her. Then again, how would B'Elanna know? This was the first relationship Torres had ever known the captain to be involved in. The Klingon felt anger spark in her chest on Seven's behalf. How could Janeway have been such a ... the engineer searched for the appropriate Klingon curse and was stymied. Which only made her angrier.

"I know of nothing I can do," Seven said with a certain finality.

Torres watched with amazement and sorrow as a tear slid silently and steadily down Seven's face, the Borg continuing to analyze specimen after specimen, recording her data with precise detail. All without seeming to notice the moisture that had dripped onto the padd.

B'Elanna could only sit by her, offering what little comfort she could by simply being there, all words completely beyond her ability to find.

Lieutenant Commander Tuvok paused in front of the door leading to cargo bay two. It was not part of his duties for him to be here, but neither was it logical for him to ignore what had been happening the past week. He was responsible for the security of Voyager, and though it was somewhat out of his jurisdiction, there was no question that the well-being of the ship was being threatened by the rumors and innuendo being tossed around. Overall morale was going to be affected soon if something was not done by someone, and as distasteful as it was, he had come to the conclusion that it was up to him, primarily since he considered both women to be his friends.

Vulcans did not need to have friends of course, but they did find it logical to develop personal relationships with those around them in order to facilitate their own well-being. If pressed to the wall, Tuvok would be forced to admit that he found Seven of Nine to be a most acceptable addition to his circle of personal acquaintances. She was intelligent, and quite Vulcan-like in many of her mannerisms. He anticipated that the forthcoming discussion with her would be handled with calm reason and logic, a refreshing change from the conversations he normally conducted with Humans. Confidently, he entered cargo bay two.

Seven was crying.

She sat huddled against the dais where the Borg alcove sat, arms wrapped tightly around her knees which were drawn up to her chest, head bowed as her shoulders shook silently with heartbreaking sobs that racked her slender frame.

Dismayed, Tuvok halted and immediately turned to go, but it was too late. His arrival had been noted.

"Tuvok?"

Seven hiccoughed and stood up, wiping her face with the sleeve of her uniform much as a child would. Her eyes were red and swollen, tear stains still fresh on her flushed cheeks. Despite that, she attempted to reestablish her normal cool demeanor.

"Why did you wish to see me?" she asked. Her voice was a little choked, but steady. She appeared vaguely embarrassed that he had caught her in such a weak moment.

"I apologize for intruding," he said stiffly. He was not at all comfortable with this, yet, for some reason, he did not leave. Perhaps it was the distress in her eyes, or the way she made a supreme effort to regain her composure simply because she knew he was a Vulcan ... many Humans would not have tried to control their emotions around him. Or perhaps it was because, in a lot of ways, she reminded him of his only daughter. In any event, he decided that he simply could not leave without making an attempt at comforting her. "I wish to speak with you about recent events," he offered.

She seemed surprised, but nodded as she linked her hands behind her back, standing at attention. He realized suddenly that she had always modified her body language to reflect his own. He found that quite interesting .. and somewhat refreshing. He wondered if it was deliberate or unconscious on her part.

"I am aware that you and the captain embarked on a personal relationship and that the relationship is now encountering difficulties," he said bluntly.

"Our relationship has ended," she responded without inflection. "The captain does not wish to love me any longer."

He raised an eyebrow. That was illogical, of course. If Janeway could not control falling in love with Seven in the first place, it was highly unlikely she could control it after the fact, particularly once they had engaged in physical intimacy. For one thing, he knew the captain too well to believe she could turn off her emotions like that. Very few Humans could. For the compassionate, caring woman that Kathryn was, accepting life's challenges and relationships with gusto, it would be impossible.

"What the captain wishes, and what she can necessarily accomplish, may be two different things," he told her. He watched as Seven's eyes changed, the bleakness lessening, and the pale blue lightening with ... hope?

"However," he hastened to add, "Humans are notorious for persisting in behavior that is illogical and personally damaging if they believe it is for 'their own good'." He studied the Borg closely. "You must understand, Seven, Captain Janeway's first priority is, and always will be, her ship. No personal relationship will be allowed to interfere with what she perceives is her duty to her crew."

"She feels our relationship would interfere with her command," Seven said.

"I do not believe she intended to cause you pain," he said, more gently than he had intended.

"Nonetheless, she has," Seven said, and there was a touch of bitterness in her voice. "She has shown me a new type of pain. One that does not heal. I know I do not want to experience it again."

Tuvok took a breath. "I have no words that will ease that sort of discomfort, nor can I offer the hope that it will not happen again, especially if you persist in becoming involved with Starfleet captains," he said. "I can only offer my opinion based on my experience in dealing with Humans and with this Human in particular. Seven, events between you and Captain Janeway happened very quickly. Any decision made in haste, can later be recognized as being incorrect."

Seven raised her head. "You think she was wrong to become involved with me," she said bleakly.

"On the contrary," Tuvok said, surprising himself as well as Seven, whose face altered perceptibly. "I feel she was wrong to decide so quickly that it would not work out. I believe that she is basing her decision on the emotional distress caused by the injuries you sustained during your away mission. It is possible she believes that if she breaks off this romantic attachment, that somehow, her feelings for you will simply ... go away."

"Will they?" Seven asked curiously.

"Perhaps," Tuvok allowed. "I doubt it, however."

"What can I do?" Seven's eyes were wide, the pale irises almost grey in the muted light of the cargo bay.

"I would advise patience," Tuvok said. "Attempt to maintain an attitude of approachability."

"'Approachability'?"

"Yes, if the captain approaches you, hear her out," he said. "She may come to the conclusion that she has erred completely on her own."

"Is there nothing else?" Seven seemed to be looking quite a bit better. Certainly she was more in control of her emotions now.

"No," he said quickly. "If Captain Janeway believes this is best for the ship, then she will make the final decision and stand by it. She would not be receptive to any emotional appeal. It is possible however, that a solution presented to her in a logical manner could sway her opinion."

Seven looked at him. "Should I talk to her?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, I will approach the captain," he responded evenly. "She knows that I am entirely objective in this matter."

If she found his tone a trifle ironic, she chose not to notice. "Thank you," she said, and her eyes were full with gratitude.

"I cannot guarantee success," he warned, though he was unaccountably warmed by her response. He really had been amongst Humans too long.

"I understand," Seven said. "When will you speak with her?"

Tuvok nodded. "As soon as I deem it appropriate," he said. "Again, I caution patience." He nodded briefly and turned to go. Seven stopped him.

"I am surprised that you would interfere in a personal relationship," she said. "It is ... illogical."

He did not turn around.

"It is a 'dirty job'," he told her just before exiting the cargo bay. "However, someone has to do it."

Captain Janeway sat in her ready room, staring unseeingly at her computer monitor, and wondering how the hell she was going to fix this. It had been two weeks since she had watched Seven walk away from her, and the entire ship felt like it was coming apart at the seams, polarizing into three distinct groups. One section resented the whole idea of the captain actually being involved with anyone in the first place. Another group, though sympathetic to Seven, believed the captain was right no matter what because, well, she was the captain and that's how things work in the real universe. Finally, the last group who thought the captain was the worst kind of unfeeling, manipulative bitch, and should probably be taken to account for it.

Of course, it wasn't that obvious or easily defined, Janeway allowed with a little grimace. No one was disrespectful, work continued efficiently both on the planet's surface and on the ship without a hitch. Everything seemed perfectly fine. Yet, Janeway knew a ship's crew formed a living entity all its own, and a good captain had her finger on the pulse of that entity, knowing which way it was going, and how it was feeling at any given moment. Janeway was a good captain and she knew right now, the entity that was Voyager was mightily pissed at her.

She couldn't blame it. She was pretty pissed at herself, too. How could she have handled things so badly?

The only one who really didn't seem to have any interest in it at all was Seven. She continued to work with efficient aplomb, alternating between the planet's surface and the ship. If she seemed to be staying out of the captain's way, then certainly it was no more than the captain actively trying to avoid Seven. When they did have to interact, it was with formal politeness, and a completely proper attitude toward each other. And each time, Janeway died just a little bit more inside.

Admit it, you can no more stop loving her than you can get out and push this ship home faster, her little voice nudged. All you've done is make what was initially a mildly difficult adjustment to being in love with a crewmember into a major snafu. Seven didn't affect your ability to command, you did. Why couldn't you have realized that before?

The small chime of the door sounded and she lifted her eyes without energy. "Come," she instructed listlessly.

Tuvok entered, a padd in his hand. He placed it on her desk. "The latest inventory from the ship's stores, Captain," he said. "It seems that spending the extra two weeks orbiting the planet was a wise idea. Not only has crew morale improved from the extended shore leave, but our supplies have benefited greatly as well."

Janeway smiled faintly. "At least, something is working out," she allowed.

"Captain?" Tuvok raised his eyebrow. She wondered idly which group he fell into, or if he bothered to notice such an emotional situation at all.

"Sorry, Tuvok," she said softly. "Just a little out of sorts today."

"If I may, Captain," he said. "You are more than 'just a little out of sorts'."

Janeway stood up and walked around her desk towards the couch on the upper level. She paused as she passed Tuvok. "I don't want to talk about it," she warned gently before continuing on. She sat down on the couch, propping her chin on her hand as she twisted around to look out at the swirls of cloud in the planet's upper atmosphere. It took a moment before she realized that Tuvok was still standing there, regarding her evenly. She took a breath and turned back around, frowning at him forbiddingly.

He, of course, was not intimidated in the least. He walked up the short flight of stairs and, without being invited, sat down in the chair opposite her. Janeway sighed. That meant he was about to call into play their very long-standing friendship. He only did it in the most dire of circumstances.

Were things that bad?

"Captain, we have been friends for a long time," he began.

Apparently they were.

"It is, without question, highly presumptuous of me to comment on your personal life without being asked, but I would be remiss if I neglected to offer what I feel should be a very obvious solution to what is apparently a very disturbing situation for you."

"To take Seven back?" Janeway asked, not bothering to pretend she didn't know what he was referring to, though her voice was colored by a touch of sarcasm.

"To apologize, and hope she takes you back, Captain," he modified, either not noticing, or choosing not to notice the edge in her tone. "Since you, apparently, are the one at fault here."

Janeway dipped her head briefly in rueful acknowledgment of the correction. "Why, Tuvok?" she asked, with honest curiosity.

"Why apologize, or why were you at fault?" he requested clarification.

She sighed. "Why should I attempt to resume a relationship with her?" she asked with forced patience.

"Why not, Captain?" he countered, rather unfairly she thought.

"Because loving her affects my ability to command," she said. Why doesn't anyone understand that? she wondered crankily.

Tuvok considered that. "At this point, trying not to love her also affects your command," he explained reasonably. "It seems to me the choice here is not; will you or will you not love her. Unquestionably you do, and I do not believe you can stop experiencing that emotion any time in the near future. The real choice is; will you be happy or unhappy being in love with her?" He lowered his head to observe her beneath heavy brows. "You are not happy now," he stated with some conviction.

"You believe that my being happy is relevant?" the captain asked.

"There is a well known Human saying," he pointed out. "'As goes the captain, so goes the ship.' It is not logical, but it is a well-documented occurrence."

Janeway felt the corner of her mouth quirk in a brief smile. "You must get very tired of dealing with all of us, Tuvok," she said, not without sympathy. "And our emotions."

"I admit it is difficult on occasion," he allowed. "It is always informative, however."

Janeway closed her eyes and massaged her forehead fitfully. "What would I say to her?" she said, entertaining Tuvok's attractive, if blunt, solution.

Both eyebrows jumped as he pondered that. "That is not my area of expertise, Captain," he offered unhelpfully. "However, I find Seven to be very straightforward in her demeanor. It would perhaps be to your benefit for you to approach her in the same manner." He tilted his head slightly. "Soon," he added.

Her eyes rose to meet his sardonically. "Was that a hint?" she asked.

"Merely a recommendation," he replied.

"I'll take it under consideration," she said dryly.

Tuvok stood, understanding that the conversation had gone as far as Janeway would allow. "If you require anything further, Captain," he said. "I shall be on the bridge."

She nodded and watched him go, staring pensively at the door that slid shut behind him. Finally, she stirred. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she said.

"Seven of Nine is not on board Voyager," the computer responded in its feminine voice.

"Where is she? Exactly."

"Seven of Nine is currently on the planet's surface at coordinates zero-three-nine-four."

Janeway thought for a moment, then winced as she realized why those coordinates seemed familiar. The Captain's Cove. She had not returned to the inlet since that day. She was unaware that Seven had.

Frowning, she left the ready room and nodded at Tuvok. "I'm going planet side," she told him. "You have the bridge."

It was night on the planet's surface, the stars twinkling through the distortion of the atmosphere, a soft breeze blowing off an ocean that was still as glass, the waves lapping gently on the sand. The light from two moons flooded the small cove with a silvery luminescence that touched everything with a fairy's brush. Janeway looked at the slim figure sitting on the rocks by the water, one knee drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around it as Seven stared out over the sea.

No one else was currently on the island, the captain knew. The new shift on this third week of shore leave had found another place to relax, and the scientific team had wrapped up their work two days ago. Janeway did not think that Seven had even heard her arrive since she had materialized some distance away, and walked down the beach until the sight of Seven had frozen her in her tracks. For long moments, Janeway paused where she was, one hand resting on the rough surface of a boulder, absorbed in that vision of the woman that she now knew she loved utterly. With an effort, she gathered her courage and walked across the sand.

The slight hiss of sand grains sliding beneath boots warned Seven of Janeway's arrival, and she straightened, her head turning alertly. Janeway saw the pale eyes widen in the moonlight and immediately, Seven slid off the rock, coming to attention as she waited for the captain to reach her.

"I apologize, Captain," she said without any inflection. "I was unaware that you would be visiting this area tonight. I will leave." She made a motion towards her comm badge, and froze when Janeway reached out and grasped her wrist with a gentle hand.

"No, please," Janeway pleaded softly. "I don't want you to leave." Carefully, she removed her hand as Seven looked at her inquiringly. "We need to talk."

Seven's face tightened. "Is it absolutely necessary?" she asked with a hint of a break in her voice. "It ... is uncomfortable for me when we talk."

"I know," Janeway said, heart aching. "It hurts me, too."

"Then it seems ... futile," Seven noted. She had clasped her hands behind her back, perhaps to keep them from trembling.

"Not if we can find a way to work this out," Janeway offered quietly.

The captain could see Seven was suddenly intrigued. She observed Janeway closely, a slight tilt to her head. "Have you succeeded in your attempt not to love me any longer?" she asked abruptly.

Janeway caught her breath. "No," she responded honestly. "I discovered that was an unrealistic goal. I don't think I'd ever achieve it no matter how long I tried. Even if somehow I did, I would only be that much poorer for it."

Seven considered that. "What does this mean?" she asked.

Janeway moved closer to the younger woman, looking up at Seven for a long moment, trying to memorize that face in the moonlight, imprint this moment in her mind. Seven allowed the examination patiently ... curiosity coloring her fine features.

"What it means," Janeway said finally, "depends on you. On whether you can forgive me or not."

"Forgive you?" Seven's brows lowered as she seemed to search for the proper reference.

"Yes," Janeway clarified. "For hurting you. For being a fool." She took another breath and searched deep inside herself, trying to find the words. Straightforward ... wasn't that what Tuvok said?

"I'm sorry I said the things I did. I was wrong," Janeway said simply, sincerely. "I allowed fear and uncertainty to dictate my actions and I regret that profoundly. I want us to be together, more than you could possibly know."

Seven looked away. "You want me to forgive you," she said. She struggled with the words. "To tell you that it is 'all right'. It is not all right. You have ... hurt me."

"I know," Janeway said softly. "I'm so very sorry I caused you such pain. I betrayed your trust. It seemed as if I were punishing you when in fact, it was I who did wrong. But, please believe me, Seven, I was punished just as much. It hurt me deeply to be apart from you."

Unwillingly, Seven looked back at her and Janeway found that she was digging her fingers into the unyielding surface of the rock behind her. Despite all her training, she disobeyed the cardinal rule for a captain, allowing a crewmember to get behind the mask of command, to see her vulnerability. She opened her heart completely, let everything she was feeling show in her face, allowing Seven to see how she truly felt. She did not blink away the moisture that rose in her eyes, gladly letting it form and slide down her face. Wonderingly, Seven reached out and caught a single tear on her fingertip. She brought it up to her eyes, examining it carefully.

"Yes," Seven said then, her voice unsteady. "I forgive you."

Janeway knew she should take a lesson from how quickly Seven was able to decide what it was she wanted. Things like wounded pride or bruised ego simply did not factor in. The captain closed her eyes, bowing her head, then felt a hesitant touch on her cheek. She opened her eyes quickly to see Seven withdraw her hand uncertainly.

"No," she whispered, catching it and bringing it back to her face, turning her head to kiss the palm of it. She heard Seven's slight intake of breath, then the warmth of her body moving in closer. Emotionally exhausted, Janeway leaned forward, trusting Seven to catch her which the Borg did, wrapping strong arms around her and holding her. "I'm sorry, Annika," she whispered. "I'm so very, very sorry."

"I understand," Seven responded quietly, hugging her tightly. "I love you, Kathryn Janeway. I just want you to love me as well."

"I do, my darling," Janeway said. "I really do."

She felt relief and gratitude flood through her as she snuggled deep into the embrace, burrowing into the hollow of the blonde's neck and breathing deep the woman's scent. The fragrance and warmth of the skin so close made her cling to Seven as if she were afraid the Borg might suddenly disappear, and for long, wonderful moments, she allowed herself to be sheltered from the universe outside the haven of Seven's arms.

"I do feel obligated, however, to point out that you are a most difficult person to be involved with," Seven noted after a long while.

That drew a rueful laugh, and Janeway drew back. "I know," she said. "Sometimes I don't even want to be involved with me." She sobered and reaching up, stroked the other's cheek gently. "I'm glad that you do anyway," she said with simple wistfulness. "You are brave, my darling. It's so very hard to love a starship captain."

"I am beginning to discover that," Seven admitted. She paused. "It seems worth the ... difficulty, however."

"I can't promise I won't hurt you again," Janeway said quietly. "But I promise I won't let fear of what might happen dictate my actions."

"I understand," Seven said. The Borg placed a finger under Janeway's chin and raised her face to her. "I accept that your first priority is and always shall be Voyager," she added seriously and Janeway wondered just who Seven had been talking with to have formulated such a conclusion.

Janeway did not however, attempt to correct or modify the statement. It was entirely accurate and it was better that they both knew it from the beginning. Instead, she slid her arms around the taller woman's neck and drew her head down for a long, loving kiss, hoping that whatever part of herself she could not give Seven could somehow be balanced by the part of her she could. Seven kissed her back passionately, her hands sliding up Janeway's sides to rest on the outer swell of her breasts, the heat from her palms penetrating the thick material of the uniform jacket.

They parted long enough to catch their breaths. "I need for us to make love," Seven said, resting her forehead on Janeway's. "Right here, right now."

"I know," Janeway said with a rueful smile. "But believe me when I tell you that making love on a beach under the stars is much more romantic in theory than in practice. Sand gets into the worst places. But I don't want to return to the ship just yet."

Seven considered that for a moment. "What do you suggest?" she asked, her hands moving restlessly over the smaller woman's torso.

"I'm thinking," Janeway told her, catching the roaming hands in a gentle grip so they would stop distracting her. After a moment, she touched her comm badge. "Janeway to Voyager," she said.

"Voyager here," Tuvok's voice came over the badge.

"Personal communication, Tuvok," she said shortly.

"A moment, Captain," he responded instantly. While she waited, she could picture him turning command over to another on the bridge and making his way into her ready room where the communication would be switched to a private channel. She knew that it would provide for some lively speculation as to why she wanted to talk to him alone, but she was damned if she was going to make an open request over the ship's signal. She had spent enough time entertaining the crew of late. Tonight, it would be just her and Seven. "Go ahead," he said finally.

"Tuvok, I need an environmental habitat sent down to these coordinates," she said. "I'll be spending the night on the surface."

"I see," came his dry tones. "What occupancy is the habitat to be?"

Subtle, my friend, very subtle, Janeway thought sardonically. "Double," she replied shortly.

"Understood," he said. "I'll make the arrangements."

"Janeway out," she said and looked at Seven who was observing her with that patient, expectant look. "Hopefully this will allow us the beach and we'll still be comfortable," she told her.

"That will be acceptable," Seven allowed.

She reached out a hand and Janeway accepted it, allowing the Borg to pull her into another embrace. They did, after all, have to pass the time awaiting the requested equipment somehow, and there was something quite intoxicating about being kissed passionately and thoroughly under the stars as the sound of the sea's gentle splash surrounded them. Janeway made a little note to herself to have this area programmed into the holodeck simulator. The Captain's Cove was acquiring a special place in her heart and she wanted to be able to take it with her when they left. It wouldn't quite be the same of course, but it would still be nice to have since it was highly unlikely they'd ever pass this way again.

The whine of the transporter made them separate reluctantly, and a somewhat breathless Janeway made her way over to the bundles that had been beamed down. There were three of them; a large container, a medium-sized knapsack, and a smaller container. At Janeway's direction, Seven helped her drag the large square over to a grassy knoll. A few taps on the small padd attached to the side, and the package unfolded itself into a dome type hut, a lightweight fabric spread over a metal framework measuring about two meters across, yet only a meter and a half in height. Janeway crawled in through the small flap and Seven handed her in the smallest bundle. The captain quickly inflated it into a large double mattress which took up much of the floor space.

Janeway stuck her head back out and saw Seven kneeling on the sand, digging into the knapsack with a bemused expression. "Are there any blankets?" she asked.

"Yes, Captain," Seven responded distractedly by handing her a couple of small triangulated packets which Janeway quickly unfolded and used to make up the bed. The silvery material was thin and perfectly insulated, standard away mission issued blankets. She glanced around approvingly when she was through. It wasn't the honeymoon suite at the Plaza on Rissa, but it was a huge improvement on a sand dune, she decided.

She looked back at Seven who was still going through the knapsack. "What's wrong?" she asked, wondering at the confused expression on the Borg's fine features.

Seven pulled out a greenish bottle and read the label. "When did Chateau Picard become a part of an away mission survival pack?" she asked, puzzlement creasing her forehead.

"Since my Security Chief developed a romantic streak," Janeway said dryly, accepting the bottle Seven handed to her. She examined it in the moonlight with appreciation. "What else is in there?"

Seven showed her the two crystal wine glasses amongst the regular assortment of ration bars, medical supplies and tools. Janeway shook her head.

"Don't ever underestimate Tuvok," she advised Seven wryly.

"I shall not, Captain," Seven responded with an oddly reverent tone.

Janeway looked at her. Back to 'Captain'. The mood had definitely been interrupted by the arrival and setting up of the base camp.

"Come here," she said gently as she dropped the bottle back into the pack.

Seven raised an eyebrow, then smiled slowly, pushing the pack aside as she crawled into the hut with the captain. It was fairly close quarters with the pair of them inside but they managed to undress each other quite effectively.

And best of all, not a grain of sand made its way into an inappropriate place.

Epilogue

A soft pink tinted the early morning sky over a sea which shimmered in the muted light. Kathryn Janeway lay on her belly, propped on her elbows as she sipped fine wine from a crystal glass. Beside her, pressed warmly against her, an arm thrown casually across Janeway's back, Seven slept peacefully, a half smile curving the full lips.

Janeway had not slept, choosing to alternate between watching the beauty of the sunrise and that of her companion, smiling fondly on occasion. Whatever the future might hold, she knew it would be a less lonely existence, and a much easier load to bear, with someone at her side. How the rest of the ship managed to accept it was something she wasn't going to think about for now. They'd just have to cope. In time, she knew, the novelty of having the captain in love with their resident Borg would pass and the next new relationship would make her love life old news. She just hoped it happened quickly.

Then it would be as it was meant to be, Janeway thought. A relationship that concerned only the pair of them. She considered that. Would it be possible on a ship in the situation that Voyager was in? In any event, things should progress more smoothly now that she and Seven had reached an understanding. She looked at Seven who was beginning to stir. And smiled.

"Kathryn?" Seven blinked sleepily up at her and reached up to touch Janeway's cheek, running her knuckles along the skin. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because I love you," Janeway responded gently.

Seven smiled too. "I love you," she said. There was a pause. "At what point in our relationship are we required to discuss the genetic makeup of our offspring?"

Janeway felt her smile freeze and her head begin to pound. "Some day in the future, I'm sure," she managed. "However, you have to promise me one thing."

"What?"

Janeway closed her eyes.

"We'll keep that discussion just between us."

The End

•  This story is the sequel to Just Between Us. While it is not absolutely essential that you read that first, it's probably a good idea that you do....just to keep things straight.

• This installment takes place after the events of The Omega Directive, near the end of fourth year of their journey, and was first posted in May of 1998.

Just Between Them
G. L. Dartt

The sleek, tapered form of U.S.S. Voyager streaked through the eternal night of the Delta Quadrant, forging through the stardusted heavens to its home port which lay tens of thousands of light-years ... and decades away ... in the Federation. Stranded four years previously, the ultimate responsibility for carrying the ship and its crew home burdened the rather slight shoulders of Captain Kathryn Janeway. A small, compact woman with auburn hair and blue-grey eyes, she radiated a sense of authority and presence that seemed to fill her immediate surroundings, making her appear much more formidable than she actually was.

Even now, when she was dog tired and dragging herself back to her quarters after what had turned out to be a very long week. Two close calls by quantum singularities and a lengthy diplomatic encounter with a fairly cranky group of aliens in the last star system had left her worn out and running on a mere shadow of her normal energetic self. The naps and meals caught on the fly in her ready room had been less than adequate to maintain her normal equilibrium, and this was the first night in too long without duties of any sort. The door to her quarters slid open obediently as she walked through it, and she took a moment to lean against the nearest wall as it closed behind her, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability she would never dare show in front of her crew.

Small, with little sense that this had been her home for the last four years, her living space was cluttered with scientific antiques, but devoid of warmth. Janeway tended to include the more personal decorating touches to her ready room rather than where she slept. Even with the recent change in her life, that had not really altered all that much. But then, why would it? If there was anyone with less flair for decor than Janeway on the ship, it was the person with whom she had formed an unexpected and perplexing romantic attachment. Besides, they each maintained their own separate and distinct living arrangements.

Wearily, she made her way into the bedroom, stripping off the gold communication badge and the four pips on her collar, dropping them onto the nearby night stand. She removed her uniform in the bathroom, tossing black and red garments into the disposal unit that immediately recycled them and materialized a fresh uniform. Moving automatically, she replaced the pips and comm badge, and laid the neatly pressed outfit carefully on the sink counter for morning before returning to the outer room where she crawled into bed.

Stretched out in the center of the mattress, she sighed, relaxing every muscle in her body and closing her eyes. With a determined effort, she shoved all that had happened, all that might happen, and everything she had to do to prepare for what might happen, out of her mind and began a relaxation technique. She concentrated on the vision of a sea, on water as still as glass lapping gently on the shore as the stars twinkled overhead. The silvery light of two moons illuminated the small cove with a fairy's brush, shimmering off the sea and sand, and reflecting in the deep blue gaze of.....

Janeway's eyes flew open.

She lay there for long moments, stubbornly refusing to make the inquiry. She was, after all, the captain; above the normal needs and desires that plagued the rest of the crew out here so far away from family and home. She folded her arms across her chest and closed her eyes once more, using another visualization scenario to relax her. One that did not include anyone else.

Minutes passed fitfully, finally turning into an hour before she sat up with an annoyed grimace. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she said flatly, refusing to acknowledge her defeat.

"Seven of Nine is in astrometrics," the even feminine tone of the ship related.

Janeway flopped back down in the bed, depressed. When Seven was working, she was as bad as....well, Janeway herself.  Single-minded, focused, totally oblivious to any outside interference or influence, the ex-Borg could work for days on end, without pause for such inefficient things like eating or regenerating.....or taking care of her captain. The corner of Janeway's mouth quirked as an idea struck her. "Computer, when did Seven begin this duty shift?"

"Twenty-three hours, fifty-seven minutes ago," the computer responded promptly.

"Computer, inform the Doctor of the length of Seven's shift."

She linked her fingers across her belly with a smirk of satisfaction. There ... and no one would really be the wiser. After all, it was the Doctor's job to keep Seven from over-extending herself. Certainly, Seven had to realize she couldn't work for long stretches of time the way she had as part of the Borg Collective. The Emergency Medical Hologram would probably materialize in astrometrics to inform Seven that her day was done, and, after the resulting disagreement lasting ... oh, say, twenty minutes or so, he would pull rank and send her off to bed. Off to where Janeway waited impatiently.

Except ... what if Seven went to her Borg alcove in cargo bay two to regenerate for an hour, and then returned to work? That would satisfy the Doctor and Seven would only be delayed temporarily from continuing whatever it was occupying her time. Janeway's lips thinned as she contemplated this unpleasant, but very plausible thought. It was highly unlikely she would see Seven at all this night.

Groaning, she rolled over and curled up in a ball under the covers, wrapping her arms around a pillow that made a very poor substitute for six feet of splendidly warm and delectable Borg.

I can sleep, she thought. How hard could it be?

She had been doing it for most of her forty years. It wasn't as if Seven of Nine resembled in any way the stuffed brown teddy bear that had helped little Katie Janeway sleep the first six years of her life. In fact, after giving up Bobo, she had actually found it distasteful to sleep with anyone. Oh, there were the occasions much later on where romance dictated that she had to share her bed ... afterward. Those incidents she managed by scooting as far away from her current companion as she could, stealing most of the covers, and using judiciously placed elbows and knees to preserve her personal space. It had been a source of several arguments with her ex-fiancé, Mark, prior to her mission to chase Maquis in the Badlands, which had subsequently resulted in Voyager being lost in the Delta Quadrant. A year ago, after managing a brief contact with the Federation that saw several personal communiqués transmitted through the Hirogen communications array before it was destroyed, she had received a letter from him informing her that he had married someone else. She wondered if his new wife was a little more approachable while slumbering.

That's what made this thing with Seven so absolutely unfathomable. Lovemaking was one thing, but afterward, Janeway found herself wrapped around the woman as if afraid to let go. She would fall asleep in the strong embrace, wake up thoroughly rested and replenished, draped all over the lanky form with her head pillowed on the full bosom, their limbs tangled so much it was hard to tell where she left off and Seven began. Or better still, with Seven's warm body curled sweetly around her from behind, the Borg's arms firmly holding her, knees tucked up under hers, her soft breath stirring her hair, making Janeway feel safe and secure and more loved than she had ever felt before.

Maybe it was because Seven was a woman, Janeway considered. She had never been romantically involved with any women prior to this, and it was possible the smaller, softer, smoother frame was more compatible for snuggling next to at night. That did not, however, explain why she couldn't sleep when Seven was not present at all. Annoyed, Janeway sat up, punched the pillow into submission, slapped it down on the bed and slammed her head into it. This was ludicrous. She could not be this weak, this ... needy. She was a starship captain, damn it, and she did not require anything or anyone to help her sleep nights.

Twenty minutes later she was sitting upright again. "Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she said peevishly.

"I am here," came a voice from the doorway, overriding the computer as the lights rose to one quarter, an automated response to the sound of conversation within the room. Janeway had yet to alter that setting.

Shifting her gaze to the tall, lean woman entering the bedroom, Janeway blinked in the sudden illumination. "Done for the day?" she offered weakly.

Seven regarded her evenly. "Why did you order the computer to inform the Doctor that I had overextended my duty shift?"

"I did?" Janeway temporized. Damn, Seven had actually backtracked it. She tried to look stern. "It's your duty to make sure you function at peak capacity. You cannot do so if you don't recieve the proper amount of regeneration."

"Ah, you wish me to regenerate. I am sorry, Captain, I have erred in my judgement. I thought it was because you wanted me to spend the duration of the night with you."

Caught, Janeway could only manage an obstinate look at Seven who was making no move to leave.

"Shall I regenerate now?" Seven prodded delicately. She raised the eyebrow under the metallic implant framing her left eye, making it rise as well. The star shaped implant on her right cheek, just under the earlobe where the line of jaw met skull, twitched and Janeway swore there was the faintest of smiles touching the corners of the Borg's full lipped mouth.

Janeway took a breath. What was more important, her dignity as captain or a good night's sleep?

"Get over here," she growled.

Another would probably have snickered, or made some sort of unwise comment at this point. The more reserved Seven merely nodded briefly, and began to shrug out of her brown, mesh-like uniform, peeling off the skintight material to reveal yet more of the mechanical implants that were necessary for her continued existence. While it was hoped that one day, the last of the external ones would be removed, it was entirely possible she would never lose all of her internal mechanisms. The grey metal fibers tracing her flat abdomen, and spreading around her back, reaching almost to her shoulder blades, gave her the ability to synthesize most of her body's energy directly from the ship's stores, and the nanoprobes' enhancements gave her a much greater resistance to radiation and illness. An offshoot from her abdominal implant ran down the back of her left thigh, terminating just above her knee which, along with a fine mesh which incased her left hand and the starfish-shaped implant on her right bicep, increased her physical prowess considerably.

Yet, despite these stark reminders of Seven's time with the Borg Collective, Janeway thought Seven was, without question, the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. That she was in love with her was barely a factor in her aesthetic appreciation for the tall, well-proportioned woman with the ice blue eyes, and blonde hair pulled severely back into an austere bun. Janeway smiled as Seven crawled into the bed next to her, and the captain allowed the larger woman to pull her into her arms. She snuggled gratefully into the embrace, wrapping her arms around the torso next to her as she burrowed her head into the warm hollow of shoulder, nuzzling the elegant neck happily.

"You logged off duty one-point-four-three hours ago, and the computer logs indicated that you retired immediately," Seven noted as she hugged Janeway close. "Why did you simply not call if you wished to be with me?"

"I can go to sleep without you," Janeway mumbled in drowsy protest.

"Indeed?" Seven said with some confusion. "That was not the question."

A gentle snore was her only response.

With a tenderness that would have surprised most of the crew who knew only the aloof and arrogant Borg, Seven gently brushed her lips over Janeway's forehead. Then, she rested her chin on top of the auburn hair and closed her eyes.

Apparently, she was not required to regenerate after all.

Janeway hesitated as she entered sickbay, taking a brief glance around to make sure that she was the only one visiting at the moment. Through the transparent glass running along the wall to her left, she could see the Doctor in his office, the hologram's elegant bald scalp gleaming mutely in the overhead lights as he bent his head to his task on his desk. He had a neatly trimmed fringe of dark hair, and steady dark eyes that could warm or chill a patient with just a glance, his frame sparse beneath the black and teal uniform of Starfleet Medical.

Not for the first time, Janeway contemplated the complement of Starfleet personnel, Maquis outlaws and the assorted alien civilians picked up on the way that made up Voyager's crew. Yet somehow, they all seemed to function well together, and occasionally, like the Emergency Medical Hologram, engaged after the ship's doctor had been killed in their original entry into the Delta Quadrant, individuals had managed to transcend their potential. Now, having progressed far beyond his programming, the Doctor ... and he had yet to settle on any other name ... was a valuable member of her senior staff.

Still, she couldn't help feel that this might be a bit easier if she were dealing with a mere hologram. Taking a deep breath, she walked across the sickbay and tapped briefly at the doorframe. Startled, the Doctor looked up, dropping his padd onto the desk.

"Captain," he exclaimed, standing up. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd like to talk to you a few moments, if I could," she said, glad that none of her nervousness was apparent in her voice.

"Of course. Please have a seat. Is this a medical problem, Captain?"

"I'm not sure," Janeway admitted as she sat down in the chair. "It could be."

Immediately concerned, he grabbed his tricorder, removing the medical probe which he quickly ran up and over her, studying the readings. "You appear quite healthy," he informed her. "At least for you. After all, we both know you don't eat properly, or receive the necessary amount of sleep."

Janeway grimaced. "Um, yes, it's about my sleeping. I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't sleep? At all?"

"Well, no, not exactly," she allowed slowly. "I can catch naps here and there, twenty minutes or so at a time."

"But, you don't sleep through the night." He sat down, looking at her with complete attention.

"No, I mean, yes, I can sleep through the night." Janeway paused, trying not to squirm. Then finished in a rush. "But only on the nights ... when Seven is present."

"Oh," the Doctor said briefly. He studied her for a long moment. "On the ship?"

"In the bed," Janeway clarified, eyes glaring daggers.

"Ah, and this is not normal for you."

"Of course not. She certainly wasn't ... present ... the first four years, Doctor," she reminded with a touch of asperity. "I slept fine, then."

"Hmm." He leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers before him, regarding her with fascinated absorption. "This sounds like it could be psychological, Captain. Fortunately, there are several sleep disorder subroutines in my psychological programming."

"Wonderful," Janeway said flatly. It occurred to her that this had been a very bad idea. She wondered what had ever possessed her to come up with it. Lack of sleep probably, her internal voice noted snidely.

"There could be several reasons why this is happening. Stress can make it difficult to sleep, though in your position, that can hardly be considered a new contributing factor. Personal problems can also disrupt sleep patterns." He squinted at her and lowered his voice, inviting her to confide in him. "Are you and Seven finding yourselves incompatible ... sexually? Is that why she isn't present every night?"

She favored him with a disagreeable look. "Compatibility has nothing to do with it. Seven and I are fine."

"Oh," he said with obvious disappointment. He frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said in the sort of tone that warned him that particular topic was exhausted.

"Very well. Are there any other personal problems that have arisen recently?"

"No. My personal life has never been better, in fact and professionally, things are relatively calm. For Voyager."

"That's true," he agreed. He contemplated it some more, then brightened as a sudden thought struck him. "Perhaps it's not psychological. It could be physical after all, and it could be Seven."

Janeway blinked. "How?"

"Seven's implants radiate a specific magnetic pulse," he said. "It's possible that the particular wavelength soothes you into REM sleep. It's very similar to when a puppy is taken from its mother and the ticking of a clock, mimicking the sound of its parent's heartbeat, puts it to sleep."

"I'm not a puppy."

"No, but just as certain things trigger sleep, a stuffed animal or a favorite blanket, your body's biorhythms may have adjusted to allow Seven to become that trigger. For example, B'Elanna Torres has adapted to the hum of a well-tuned warp drive, and any deviation, no matter how minor, wakes her immediately."

"So, Seven has become necessary for my sleep patterns. What can I do about it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you intend to stop sleeping with Seven?" he asked, then clarified with a certain delicacy that was not normally his style, "Afterward?"

Janeway hesitated, her jaw firming slightly. "No," she said shortly. In truth, she would prefer to be with Seven significantly more often than they had managed recently. Their respective duties and routines tended to keep them apart, not to mention the random bouts of command propriety on Janeway's part.

"Then, accept it," he said, shrugging. "You can resume a regular pattern after a period of not sleeping with her, but once she is present again, her implants' pulse would disrupt that particular routine, and impose its own. You'd be right back where you started." He paused, thinking. "Seven still requires an hour of regeneration in her alcove once every forty-eight hours, but I see no reason why she can't move in with you the rest of the time."

"Move in with me?" Janeway stared blankly at him. That had literally blind-sided her. My god, she hadn't even lived with Mark. She knew it was something she would be required to do after they were married, but honestly, she hadn't really thought about it beyond the simple acknowledgment of the whole concept. Now, the Doctor was talking about Seven spending every night with her, being there every morning, requiring a real and permanent commitment.

"I don't know about this, Doctor," she said, dragging her dazed mind back to the topic at hand. "I don't think I'm ready for that." Regretting it profoundly the second it was out of her mouth.

He leaned forward, suddenly intrigued. "Do you have some objection to committing to Seven?"

<>"No." She was very definite in tone, hoping it would be enough to end this conversation.

He studied her. "You and Mark were engaged for three years with no set wedding date, correct?"

Apparently it was not.

"What," Janeway frowned at him, "has that have to do with anything?"

"Perhaps you have a fear of personal commitment, Captain. Your need to have Seven present when you sleep is merely your sub-conscious attempting to bring it to your attention so that you can resolve it. Do you love her?"

Janeway stood up. "Doctor, I came in here so that you could help me get some sleep," she snapped. "Not listen to you theorize about my personal life."

A little surprised at her vehemence, he stood up as well. "I'm sorry, Captain. It wasn't my intention to upset you. I was merely speculating. If you wish, I can do a reading on Seven and cross match it with an EMG of your brain. It would be fairly easy to determine if she puts you to sleep as a result of her implants ... or because you just like having her around. If it is her implants, then I can come up with a device that reproduces the pulse, allowing you to sleep when she isn't present."

Janeway rubbed her eyes. This was turning into something far more complicated than what she wanted or needed right now. "Can't you just give me something? Without involving Seven?"

"Like a tranquilizer? I would have to object strongly to that suggestion."

"Fine," she said briskly. "I'm just going to have to get used to Seven's not being there."

"Or see that she is present all the time," the Doctor reminded.

"Thank you for your time," Janeway answered, already out the door.

Leaving behind a sorely confused Emergency Medical Hologram.

"May I ask you a question, Tuvok?" Seven asked politely, as she assisted Voyager's chief of security.

They were in the ship's gym, performing the cardiovascular regimen required of every crewmember on a regular basis. The Borg had made it a practice to schedule a certain amount of personal time to be with the dark-skinned Vulcan whose calm demeanor she had apparently decided to emulate. Working out together was a way to do that. Tuvok, though he would never admit it out loud, found it quite ... gratifying. He looked upon the young woman as a welcome addition to the small circle of personal acquaintances he was prepared to call 'friend'. In some odd way, she reminded him of his daughter, though why that was so, he had yet to pinpoint.

"I trust this is of a personal nature." He grasped the weight bar that was programmed for his much heavier alien muscle mass. He lay on his back on the weight bench as he easily began to perform several deep presses above his chest. Seven hovered over him, performing the duty of spotter. "Since, normally you do not request permission to ask questions."

"That is correct. It is personal."

"You may ask." Sweat ran off his forehead and dripped off the points of his ears onto the floor. There was only the slightest hint of strain in his voice; whether from the weights or in anticipation of her question, he wasn't sure. "I cannot guarantee I will provide you with a satisfactory answer."

"You are married, correct?"

"Yes. Is that the question?"

"No, I wish to know if that state of being is somehow more important than when two people merely spend time together?"

Tuvok eyed her warily from his supine position. "In many cultures, it is," he said carefully. "It indicates a deeper commitment than that of being merely companions ... or lovers."

"Why?"

He nudged the bar towards her, and she took it easily, lifting it into its rack. He sat up and brushed the chalk from his gloved hands. "There are legal reasons," he explained, bracing his arms and utilizing the weights at the end of the bench to perform leg presses. "In some cultures, sexual taboos demand that such acts be performed only within the parameters of an official ceremony. A marriage ceremony may also be necessary for defining the distribution of property, and the caring of offspring. Such responsibilities require something more than a simple verbal agreement in certain societies. Marriage can also indicate a spiritual significance for two people. Very often a couple may feel that a ceremony of sorts, performed before their immediate community, is necessary in order to feel ... complete. On Vulcan, such a ceremony is not only spiritual, it solidifies a psychic union between two beings that only death can sever."

"What of Humans?"

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing her sardonically. "In general? Or specific to Captain Janeway?"

"I apologize for being imprecise," she said immediately. "With regards to the captain."

Tuvok didn't answer right away, first completing his leg presses, stretching a bit and then, going over to a nearby stationary bike where he began to pedal steadily. Seven patiently joined him on a second bike nearby.

"The captain is from the North American section of Earth, specifically the midwest, and thus, can logically be expected to follow the traditional norms of that area. There appears to be a specific set of stages leading up to the ceremony, which is called a 'wedding'," he said thoughtfully. "There is the first stage of the relationship, the 'dating period' wherein two people spend time together, assessing their suitability for each other. The level of the relationship can be determined by how exclusive the couple is in their sexual habits. If copulation is not limited to just each other, it is not determined to be a 'serious' relationship, but merely a casual one, involving recreational copulation. A 'serious' relationship leads into a preparatory stage known as the 'engagement', which directly precedes the wedding. Sexual copulation at this time is assumed to be limited to just between the two, though there is a function called a stag party which leaves that theory in question. In some instances, the two will abstain from sexual practices completely until after the ceremony is actually performed. In any event, after the wedding, sexual copulation is definitely expected to be limited to just the two parties, both as a recreational pursuit, and in order to procreate."

He tightened his bike, increasing the resistance. "In the case of the captain, since she was officially engaged to a Human male named Mark Johnson prior to our being lost in the Delta Quadrant, it is clear that she is a follower of these concepts. In fact, she received information during our contact with the Alpha Quadrant that he has since married someone else."

Seven had stopped pedaling, looking at him with a decidedly odd expression, and with a sudden, profound discomfort, Tuvok realized that this was completely new information to the young woman; not just the fact that the captain had been engaged, but that she had ever been involved with someone else. For a brief instant, he had an incredible urge to throttle Kathryn Janeway for having put him in the position of breaking such a delicate piece of news to Seven, and in such a manner. How could the captain have neglected to share such an important part of her past with the young woman? His Vulcan cultural conditioning immediately suppressed the primal urge, if not his distaste for having inadvertently hurt Seven.

"Have you discussed these concepts with the captain?" he asked weakly.

"No, but I shall now," she said with a definite edge to her tone as she began to pedal the bike with far more expenditure of energy than was necessary.

Tuvok wondered if he should warn Janeway what was coming, then decided against it. Vulcans were not, as a rule, vindictive but they did think an individual should take responsibility for their own actions. He couldn't look out for Janeway all the time.

But he did allow the thought that it would be a fascinating experience to be allowed to observe such a conversation ... from a safe distance, of course.

The bridge was fairly quiet this day, the only sounds those of gentle beeps, and the computer's muttering interspersed with the constant hum of the warp drive. Lounging in his chair, Commander Chakotay regarded the starfield revealed on the large viewscreen at the front with a sort of dreamy inattention glazing his dark eyes. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dusky good looks and a muscular build, Voyager's first officer was considered quite attractive by most of the female crewmembers who found his brooding manner and quiet charm an irresistible combination. It had been commonly considered that he was the one Captain Janeway had set her sights on, but her new relationship with Seven of Nine had turned that assumption abruptly on its ear. Suddenly, there was a whole new interest in his availability. It was something Chakotay had slowly realized over the past few months, and right at this moment, though there was no outer indication, he was very aware of Lt. Angela James eyeing him from her post at the science station.

Like Janeway, he had maintained an aloof status from the rest of the crew, determining that the consequences of such relationships would be more trouble than they were worth. The captain's new romance had forced him to re-evaluate that decision, and now he was considering that if the captain could handle what was clearly a complicated partner like Seven, then perhaps he didn't need to spend his journey through the Delta Quadrant alone, either. So, in the past where he would have steadfastly ignored the young woman's interest, Chakotay was now toying very strongly with the idea of approaching the well-developed science officer with the long brown hair and leaf green eyes.

The soft sigh of the doors to the turbolift diverted his attention, and he turned to see Seven of Nine walk onto the bridge. He carefully squelched the lustful thoughts that immediately sprang to mind as she undulated across the deck. Seven was completely unaware of her effect on most of the male libidos on the ship, and it was probably a good thing that she had become involved with the captain. Anybody with a lesser rank, especially if he had been male, would have felt obligated to pop a few of the less discrete oglers .. such as Harry Kim.

Chakotay didn't have to look to know that the young operations officer behind him was observing Seven's progress with a puppy dog look of unrequited lust in his handsome features. Even Tom Paris, the fair-haired helmsman at the front of the bridge, was risking a quick look over his shoulder. Not wise, Chakotay allowed, considering the fact that Paris had his hands full with the chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres. The Klingon/Human hybrid would have quickly and soundly thrashed Paris had she even suspected the helmsman was looking at Seven longer than the prescribed period of time necessary to simply identify her. But Torres was currently occupied down in engineering, and Tom apparently felt safe enough to let his gaze linger a little until the unmistakably disapproving glare from where Tuvok maintained his tactical post made him drop his eyes. Chakotay looked up inquiringly as Seven stopped in front of him.

"The captain isn't here," he informed her with a gentle smile. "I think she might be running her da Vinci program in holodeck one."

"Yes, she is," Seven responded coolly as she stood over the reclined first officer. "It is you with whom I wish to speak."

Chakotay was surprised, the tribal tattoo over his left eye crinkling as he raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Yes. I also need to address Tom Paris." She favored the helmsman with a look of such pure and utter disdain that Chakotay had a sudden foreboding feeling in his gut. He found he was exchanging glances with Tuvok who had raised an eyebrow in ... warning?

"It would be best if you conversed privately," the Vulcan suggested strongly. "Perhaps in the conference room?"

Chakotay sensed that Tuvok was trying to tell him something, and he was not adverse to taking a little advice now and again, particularly from the chief of security. He nodded slowly. "Yes, that's a good idea. Let's go into the conference room."

He nodded at the Vulcan, and led the way off the bridge. It was only after he turned around near the large conference table that he realized Tuvok had also joined them. Since he was under the impression he had left the security chief in charge of the bridge, he was slightly nonplused for a moment.

"What's this about, Seven?" he asked, trying to regain his grip on the situation.

She ignored him, glaring at Paris. "You and Kathryn copulated. That is unacceptable."

Tom's eyes widened, and he held up his hands. "Whoa, waitaminute. What are you talking about?"

"When you test flew a shuttle in excess of speeds of warp ten," she continued with inexorable firmness. "You took Kathryn as your mate..."

"I was devolving into a lizard," Tom protested. "I couldn't control my actions. I had to mate ... and well...."

"Why did you not choose B'Elanna Torres?"

Tom opened his mouth, hesitated, tried again. "I don't know."

"Perhaps the concept of Janeway being an Alpha female," Tuvok interjected reasonably. "A matter of natural selection. The captain would have no choice once she began to devolve as well. Their interaction was purely involuntary."

"Anyway," Tom said, "It's not like we remembered anything after it was done. It was only that one time."

"So you do not copulate with her now?"

"No, my god, no." Tom was astounded. "Seven, I love B'Elanna."

She stared at him a few seconds more before appearing to dismiss him as irrelevant. She then turned on Chakotay, who was just now starting to react, so stunned was he at the conversation he was hearing. When those ice-blue eyes turned on him, he swallowed hard. "Look Seven, I don't think we should be discussing this with you. This is completely inappropriate."

"You and Kathryn were stranded on a planet for three months," she said, ignoring his protest. "Did you copulate with her?"

"Yeah, Chakotay," Tom offered helpfully, intensely curious. There was a longstanding pool on just this very topic, and the helmsman ... vastly amusing now that he was no longer involved ... had quite a lot of credits invested on what this unexpected conversation might reveal. "Did you?"

Chakotay favored him with a blistering glare. "Seven," he said, maintaining his temper with great effort, "what occurred between the captain and I is just between us, and not a matter for public consumption. I suggest you talk to her."

"Do you copulate with her now?"

"Seven, this is not something I'm going to talk about with you," he repeated stubbornly, having no idea how to terminate this conversation with any sort of dignity at all.

Her features were frozen. "So you do," she surmised.

And punched him.

Hard.

The other two men watched with astonishment as Chakotay, propelled by a Borg-enhanced left hook, cartwheeled over the table and crashed into a chair, which skidded into the wall before depositing him with a solid thump onto the floor. The first officer brought his hand to his face, took it away covered with blood and looked up to see Paris staring at Seven with respectful awe, well out of arm's reach, while Tuvok restrained the woman. Chakotay dazedly realized the security chief was regarding him expectantly.

"Are you all right, Commander?" the Vulcan asked politely.

"I guess," Chakotay said. He hadn't even seen it coming. With an unsteady grip on the table, which was rapidly becoming speckled with drops of crimson, he finally regained his feet. "Tuvok?"

"I will escort Seven to the brig," the Vulcan said calmly. "You should report to sickbay."

Head still ringing from the blow, Chakotay nodded gingerly.

"So, which one of you is going to tell the captain?" Tom offered brightly.

Seven sat huddled on the bunk, arms about her body as if to shake off some sort of chill, looking very young and very vulnerable. Janeway couldn't help remembering the last time the woman had been behind that force field. Seven of Nine had still been mostly Borg, a drone only recently cut off from the Collective she had known most of her life. Disoriented and frightened, she had begged the captain to return her to the world she knew, to leave her on a planet and allow her to contact the nearest Borg cube.

Janeway had refused. Not accepting that Seven, after eighteen years in the Collective, had the mental capacity to make that sort of decision, the captain had made it for her, keeping her on Voyager despite the very valid and furious arguments that Seven had countered with. Perhaps it was that very anger which made Janeway refuse to let her go. Such passion and fury were completely Human, and Janeway couldn't bear the thought of it being strangled by Seven's return to the Collective. Yet, it had torn the captain apart then, and seeing her lover like this, it tore her apart now. But Janeway could not allow herself to show it now anymore than she had then. Stiffly, she nodded at Tuvok who shut down the force shield, and took up a position outside the door to the security area, affording the captain and Seven a measure of privacy.

For long moments, Janeway stared at the younger woman who offered no indication that she was even aware of the captain's presence. Unbidden, a muscle twitched sporadically in Janeway's jaw as she sought to gain control over the emotions swirling within her.

"So you finally managed to get yourself locked up in the brig," she stated icily.

Seven still did not raise her head. "You are very angry at me."

"That would be an understatement," Janeway told her, her voice at its lowest, and most dangerous register. Carefully, she stepped over the metal beam bordering the brig's entrance and entered the cell. She frowned down at Seven as she stood over her, hands linked behind her back in a grip of pure iron to keep her from grabbing the girl, and shaking some sense into her. "Do you want to explain why you punched Commander Chakotay?"

"I hate him," Seven replied flatly.

Janeway blinked. She hadn't really known what to expect when the Doctor's call dragged her out of da Vinci's lab, but it certainly hadn't been to find the blood splattered Chakotay being attended to in sickbay as Tom Paris looked on with amusement. Nor the fact that her lover was under arrest for punching Voyager's first officer in the conference room. As to what precipitated the conflict, all Chakotay would say was that he thought Seven was somewhat misinformed, and that the captain should talk to her.

"Why do you hate him?"

"You and he copulate. That is unacceptable to me."

Janeway absorbed this with some difficulty. "Well, Chakotay was right, you certainly are confused. Seven, where did you come up with all this, anyway?"

"I researched your personal history. I did not realize you had so many other lovers." Her tone was disturbingly dull and dead.

"I wouldn't have said that many," Janeway responded dryly, still trying to get a grasp on the situation, and failing miserably. "Did you think you were the only one I'd ever been with?"

"Yes." Now there was emotion coloring the tone, startling Janeway with its aching, ragged despair as Seven clenched her fists on her thighs. "You are the only one I have ever been with. The only one I ever want to be with. You are the only one I have ever loved. But I am merely one of many to you."

It was at times like this that Janeway realized how little Seven understood about her Humanity, how very little actual life experience she had. The knowledge of thousands of species was accessible to her, the memories of millions of individuals in her brain, but there was no emotional connection to any of it. She was only now attaching emotional resonance to her own personal experiences, many of which were confusing to Humans at the best of times. Janeway shook her head, trying hard to figure out where she should go from here.

"Seven, you're not just one of many," she tried to explain. "You're very important to me."

"More important than Mark Johnson?"

Janeway caught her breath. Oh, this was bad, she thought. "I am not going to compare you and Mark," she told her firmly. "In any event, what happened between Mark and I is in the past. It has absolutely nothing to do with you and me."

"You were engaged to him," Seven said bitterly. Janeway saw that her hands were actually pale, digging into the younger woman's legs. "You love him. I am only someone with whom you copulate."

Janeway was appalled. "Why do you think that?"

"I spoke with Tuvok about the stages of Human mating habits. He told me you were preparing to enter the final stage of the Human relationship with Mark Johnson, to be married. I am only a casual form of recreation to you, a mere first stage encounter to you. This is unacceptable to me."

"Oh dear God," Janeway mumbled. "Remind me to have a word with Tuvok after this is all over." She rubbed her forehead, trying to erase what was rapidly turning into a major migraine. "This still doesn't explain why you punched Chakotay."

"You copulate with him," Seven said, her voice choked. "I hate him. I wanted to hurt him."

"You were jealous of him," Janeway identified.

"'Jealous'," Seven tasted the word, grimaced. "I do not like this 'jealous'."

"No, it's not a very attractive emotion," Janeway said coldly. "Especially since there's no basis for it. Chakotay is my friend. He and I do not ... copulate." She uttered the word distastefully. "Now, or at anytime in the past."

Finally, Seven looked up at her. Her eyes were brimming with moisture, tiny tears tracking her cheeks. "No?" she asked with a helpless mixture of hope and dismay. Despite her anger, Janeway felt her heart spasm in her chest, and involuntarily, she reached out, gently wiping Seven's face with her fingertips, taking the chin between her thumb and forefinger.

"No," Janeway said in a gentler voice, her eyes full of compassion. "But even if we had been together, Seven, you still had no right to hit him. My life, and my past lovers, are mine to deal with. Not yours. I understand that the thought of my being with other people hurts you. I wish it didn't, but there's nothing I can do to change what has already happened, nor would I if I could. All my life experiences are part of what and who I am now. Would you really want me to be different?"

Seven closed her eyes. "No," she whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," Janeway said softly. "Annika, you are far from being merely a casual physical encounter to me. There is no one else in my personal life right now, but you. There is no one else I want in my life." She took a breath and released her hold on Seven, straightening and setting her shoulders. Her face altered, becoming stone-like, her eyes flinty chips of granite. "But God knows what I'm supposed to do with you now. Striking a superior officer is a court-martial offense."

"I am not a member of Starfleet," Seven reminded her, hopefully. "Technically, he is not my superior officer."

"That may be the only thing saving your hide," Janeway said furiously. "Chakotay absolutely refuses to press charges against you, and neither Tuvok nor Tom will comment officially about what happened in the conference room. For some reason, they all feel protective of you. I don't have that luxury. You will apologize to Commander Chakotay, and you will be restricted to cargo bay two for the foreseeable future."

For the first time ever, the punishment utilized so many times before clearly disturbed Seven. "I will not be able to leave the cargo bay?" she asked in a trembling voice.

"No," Janeway told her.

"Not even to see you?"

Janeway firmed her jaw, shaking her head. "No. Seven, this is very serious. We've discussed the difference between having an impulse and acting on it. Your actions were completely inappropriate and damaging to the function of this ship. I cannot overlook this. You must be punished. Restricting you to quarters is my only recourse."

"I understand," Seven said in a very tiny voice, hanging her head in shame. "I am sorry, Captain."

That almost made the good captain crumble ... but not quite. "Tuvok shall escort you to the cargo bay. You shall remain there until I inform you that your punishment has been served." Then, before she could change her mind, she turned on her heel and quickly left the cell, re-establishing the force field before she exited the brig. She paused outside the door, leaning against the wall wearily, closing her eyes as she bent her head. She became aware of Tuvok moving closer, and with an effort, she looked up at him.

Tuvok's expression was as concerned as the Vulcan would allow it. "What will happen to Seven, Captain?"

"You couldn't stop her before she swung, Tuvok?"

"She is very quick," he noted with regret.

"I want to know what you told her about Human mating habits, Tuvok."

She listened impassively as he recited the conversation of a day ago, managing to keep the worst of her winces internal, though the information cut her right to the bone. She took a deep breath when he was done.

"I want you to take her to wherever Chakotay is recovering so that she may apologize to him," she instructed. "Then, confine her to cargo bay two for the time being. Place a level seven restriction on her. No one is to speak with her without my personal authorization."

He raised an eyebrow. "Understood, Captain." But he hesitated. "Captain, I must tell you, I consider myself somewhat responsible for this. I was unaware that she did not know about your previous relationships. Perhaps, I also deserve to be punished."

Janeway eyed him. "That won't be necessary, Tuvok. I'm not punishing her for being jealous, just for her physical confrontation with Chakotay, and yes, I do realize I did play a part in this myself. Would you believe my past simply never came up in any of our discussions? "

"It is not my intention to criticize, Captain," he protested mildly. "Merely inform you as to the role I played in this. I should have told you of our conversation yesterday, immediately after it happened."

Janeway shook her head. "No, Tuvok," she said, holding up an elegant finger in disagreement. "I don't want or need to know everything that goes on with Seven. She has to be able to have friends, people she can talk to without worrying that what she says will be passed on to me. I'm glad she considers you a confidante. God knows, you've been a good friend to me. As difficult as this will be, I think it will provide her with a valuable lesson that she simply has not been able to grasp before now."

"I hope so, Captain." He paused. "What will you do now?"

Janeway sighed. "Find the Doctor. I'm going to need his help to get through the next little while."

Ten days passed as Seven of Nine attempted to occupy herself while serving her punishment. She was allowed to resume part of her duties after five days when Harry Kim transferred information from astrometrics onto her workstation in the cargo bay, but as hard as she tried, she was unable to concentrate on it for any length of time. She could not remember feeling so wretched, so very alone, not even after being separated from the Borg, or when she had guided the ship through the nebula while the crew was in stasis. Now, even though the rest of the crew was a mere hail away, she was keenly aware of what it truly meant to be left by herself, to be alone. It was sheer agony.

On the tenth night, as she stood at her console trying to complete an astrometrics report, she heard the large bay doors slide open. She did not shift her attention from her data. Though her Borg alcove was here, and it was generally considered her living area, the cargo bay still contained a lot of equipment and supplies that the crew needed to access. She was not locked in, and she had received a regular stream of visitors who were fulfilling one errand or another, but while their brief incursions broke the monotony, she did not try to speak to them, nor they to her, respecting the restrictions the captain had placed upon her. Once, early on, the doctor had come in and took some readings from her implants, but his conversation had been brief and to the point, completely unlike him. Of course, the one person she really wanted to see, never came.

Seven did not appreciate the horrible, empty feeling she had experienced so often early in her incarceration. That emotion, that disappointment, was very uncomfortable for her. Time and again, she had looked eagerly at whoever came through the door, only to see anyone but the person she so desperately needed ... until finally, she had reached the point where she refused to look up at all, keeping her back to the entrance so that she would not be disappointed again.

"Seven." The voice was very distinctive, husky and low.

Instantly, she turned, raising her eyes to meet the grey-blue gaze that seemed to reach deep inside her and surround her heart in a steel grip. "Kath....Captain?" She had taken an involuntary step toward the compact form, then hesitated, mindful of how much trouble she had caused. Instead, she straightened and linked her hands behind her back, trying to present as professional a demeanor as possible.

"I wanted to let you know that your punishment ends tomorrow morning at 0600," Janeway informed her with cool detachment.

Seven was very familiar with that implacable command expression, the face which indicated very clearly that Janeway was captain and Seven of Nine was merely her subordinate. Seven did not really like seeing it at any time, though she accepted that it was a necessity when they were dealing with each other on duty, respecting the distance Janeway imposed on them outside their personal relationship. Now, it struck deep into her heart, slicing through it like a razor, reminding her of what she had cost herself with her rash actions.

"I understand," Seven said with difficulty. She maintained her impassiveness with only the greatest of wills.

For long moments they regarded each other. Seven slowly began to notice the tired way Janeway stood, the burdened set to the shoulders, the lines around her mouth, but she was uncertain as to whether she could approach the captain at all. Yet, the fact that Janeway had not immediately turned to go allowed Seven a wild hope that perhaps she had not destroyed everything after all.

"May I touch you?" Seven asked in her gentlest tone.

Janeway's mouth twitched, her lips thinning, but she nodded briefly. "I really wish you would."

Seven moved closer, and with great care, wrapped her arms around Janeway as she felt the captain slowly collapse against her. Holding her up effortlessly, Seven gently kissed the smaller woman's forehead, closing her eyes in relief and gratitude.

"Please don't make me have to go through this again," Janeway requested in a weary voice, resting her head on the taller woman's shoulder, and sliding her arms about the tiny waist, hugging her tightly. "Don't force me to discipline you in this manner."

"I will not," Seven said with all the intensity she could inject in her cool voice, tightening her grip as well. "I will never do anything wrong again."

Janeway sighed ruefully against Seven's chest. "Let's not be unrealistic, my love," she said with dry irony. "Just don't do anything that requires me to lock you up for days on end."

"I promise." She added with a shy wistfulness. "Am I still your 'love'?"

"Of course you are," Janeway reassured in her no-nonsense tone, frowning slightly as she drew back to look up at the Borg. "Always."

"I thought I had forfeited that right."

Janeway was silent for some time, searching Seven's face intently. "Seven, I punished you for striking Chakotay," she explained finally, reaching up to touch the Borg's cheek gently, cupping it in the warm palm of her hand. "Not for why you did it. Our personal relationship is apart from how I treat you as a crewmember under my command. But I do agree that the personal reason you had for hitting him is one we must work out. Seven, you're the only one I care about in this way. You're the only one I wish to be intimate with. I really need you to understand that."

Seven swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "I am afraid now. I was not before I discovered you have loved others ... this way."

Janeway sighed, and drew the taller woman's head down so that their foreheads were resting together. "Seven, there is absolutely nothing for you to be afraid of. I'm with you because I choose to be, and because I want to be. Of all the people in my life now, you're the only one to whom I've given my heart. You have to realize the worst part about jealousy is that it denotes a lack of trust. You don't trust in me, and you don't trust in my love for you. You have to have faith in what we share, Seven."

"What did you share with Mark Johnson?" Seven asked unhappily.

There was a pause. "I loved Mark," Janeway said gently. "Nor was he the first person I've loved in this way. That doesn't mean I love you any less. Though I realize you're having a great deal of difficulty understanding this concept."

Seven lowered her eyes. "It hurts."

"I know. I wish with all my heart that it didn't. Can you accept that it's you I love? Not Chakotay. Not even Mark anymore, were he suddenly to appear. I just want to be with you."

"I will try, Kathryn," Seven said with grave assurance. "I want very much to succeed."

"Then I believe you will," Janeway said softly. "When you set your mind to something, I have never known you to fail." She leaned back a little so she could look into the pale eyes and smiled gently at her.

"You're still with me, aren't you?"

"The time is 0600."

The smooth voice of the computer nudged Janeway awake, and with a soft sigh, she opened her eyes. "Oh god," she said softly.

She was resting in Seven's arms on the dais, the larger woman reclined on the cold, hard deck, her back resting against the beam next to her Borg alcove. Janeway was curled up on top of her, cuddled against Seven's front with her head pillowed on her chest like a child. She vaguely remembered sitting down on the dais the night before, and closing her eyes for 'just a moment' as Seven sat down next to her. Now it was 0600, she felt wonderfully rested and could only imagine how poor Seven felt, having been utilized as a mattress for the entire night.

But the cool blue eyes were regarding her with total adoration as she lifted her head. "Good morning," Janeway said bashfully. "You should have thrown me out. Not let me lie on you all night."

"That would have been unacceptable," Seven told her.

Janeway smiled. "For me, too, but you must be very uncomfortable." She made a weak effort to get up and was immediately stymied by the strong arms that tightened possessively around her.

"I am very comfortable," Seven assured her. "Please, do not go."

"All right." Janeway settled back into the embrace, leaning forward to brush her lips gently across Seven's. "Our duty shifts start soon," she warned gently.

Seven's only reply was to pull her closer, and cover her mouth demandingly. A little startled at first, Janeway was soon returning the kiss with passion, realizing suddenly how long it had been since punishments, time and respective duties had granted them a chance to be intimate. She felt Seven raise her hand to her cheek, then tangle in her hair, pulling her even deeper into the kiss, igniting a fire in her belly which spread throughout her. She tasted the smooth flavor of Seven's tongue slipping between her lips, exploring the inside of her mouth with delicate precision, and she moaned softly as the younger woman let go of her head and wormed her hand inside Janeway's uniform, slipping beneath the heavy tunic to caress her breasts through the grey turtleneck sweater.

It was only with the greatest of effort that Janeway was able to pull away. "Wait," she said breathlessly, trying to regain control of her senses. She freed one hand and tapped her comm badge. "Janeway to bridge."

"Bridge here, Lt. Larson at conn," came the voice of the gamma shift officer who held the ship pending the arrival of the day's alpha crew.

"Larson, log that I will be unavailable today," Janeway commanded. "Unless it's an emergency. Personal priority."

Seven was watching her with an intrigued expression. Janeway never took a day off unless literally forced to. "Understood," Larson responded, and the wonder was evident in his tone as well. "Conn will be handed over to Commander Chakotay at 0700. Bridge out."

Janeway then took a moment to kiss Seven once more before activating her communicator again. "Computer, log Seven of Nine as returned to full duty as of 0600 hours this Stardate. Log her as unavailable today due to personal priority."

"So logged," the computer responded evenly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I am ... surprised, Kathryn."

"I know. So am I. But it's about time we had a day off together, don't you think?"

"Yes," Seven said, and reached for her again. Janeway resisted gently.

"Not here," she instructed. "The last thing I need is for someone to come in and see their captain rolling around on the deck with the astrometrics officer."

"The crew are aware of our relationship," Seven pointed out as Janeway got to her feet and offered her a hand up.

"Yes, but they're not aware of everything that relationship includes and I'd like to keep it that way." She straightened her uniform as best she could, and raked her fingers through her hair. "I need a shower."

"Now, or afterward?" Seven said, raising an eyebrow.

Janeway flashed her an impish grin. "I'll have to think about that. In either event, I can think of a much more comfortable place than this."

The corridors and turbolift leading to the captain's quarters were empty, much to Janeway's relief. The hour was too early for the senior officers to be making their way to the mess hall for breakfast and it was too late for those leaving their shifts. She led the way into the cabin, and then turned to Seven who had stopped just inside the door. "We should go into the bedroom."

"In a moment," Seven said as she reached out for her, cupping her face in her hands and bringing her lips to hers.

Janeway made a sound at the back of her throat and returned the kiss with sincere interest, pressing her body against the taller woman. She reached behind Seven and found the fastenings at the back of the sleek, brown mesh outfit. Releasing them, she pulled the material from the sinuous back and smooth shoulders, drawing it down over the full breasts to her waist. Janeway paused there to run her fingertips over the proud swells, touching the soft skin of Seven's nipples, which hardened sweetly beneath her touch. Seven moaned softly, intensifying the kiss before pulling away briefly to tug her outfit from her arms, and pushing it down over her hips, kicking it off and leaving her exposed to Janeway's appreciative regard.

"You're so beautiful," she murmured, taking in the vision before her as Seven's hands tugged at her uniform. She helped Seven undress her, the red and black outfit being tossed negligently on the floor beside the discarded mesh outfit as Seven kissed her hungrily, her hands exploring Janeway eagerly, almost roughly.

"Easy, my love," Janeway cautioned against her mouth. "We have the whole day."

"It has been so long," Seven complained, though her caresses eased their intensity, slowing and gentling as she began to take her time.

"I know. Believe me, I know." Janeway captured that generous mouth, running her tongue over each full lip before slipping it between them, tasting the sweetness of Seven. She raked her hands down the long back, tracing over the metal fibers, stroking the flesh underneath. Meanwhile, she could feel Seven's competent fingers stroking her sides and hips, pushing Janeway back a little to separate them so that Seven could continue the caress over her stomach and undersides of her breasts, cupping them in her palms.

"Mmm..." Janeway arched into the hands, feeling the grip shift upward to fully cover her small breasts, pressing against her nipples, rasping over them to stimulate them. Then, Seven was releasing her mouth, trailing over her chin, nuzzling the small of her throat, then along the line of her neck. "The bedroom," Janeway reminded huskily.

"If you insist," Seven responded between nibbles on Janeway's earlobe. "Though the floor is more than adequate."

"For you, maybe, but there's a perfectly good bed only a few feet away." Janeway gasped abruptly as Seven hefted her up over her shoulder, finding herself upsidedown with a close-up view of Seven's buttocks as the blonde carried her into the bedroom.

"Seven!" she squeaked in surprised outrage, body dangling helplessly.

"What?" Seven responded, dumping her rather unceremoniously on the bed.

"Where did you learn that?" Janeway asked her breathlessly.

"From several novels," Seven informed her, crawling onto the bed and hovering over her on all fours. "The doctor recommended reading them as something to occupy myself during my incarceration. This seemed to be the preferred method of carrying one's lover to bed."

"I think we need to improve your reading material," Janeway told her, running her hands up the slender arms bracing the woman above her. She clasped the narrow shoulders, and pulled Seven down on top of her.

"You did not like it?" Seven queried curiously as she pressed down on her.

"It's a trifle ungraceful," Janeway explained, sliding her hands restlessly over Seven's back and shoulders, pulling her closer. "I would rather not be hauled around like a sack of corn."

"Then, I shall not do it again," Seven responded and began to kiss the captain's ear and jaw with hungry intent.

"As long as we understand each other," Janeway laughed softly, then as Seven found her mouth again, they kissed ravenously, greedily, tongues tasting deep of each other as their hands moved quickly, seemingly to be everywhere at once. Janeway moaned and gasped into Seven, biting gently at the blonde's bottom lip, sucking on it as she felt the need grow taut within her.

Seven responded instantly, inserting her knee between Janeway's legs, parting them so that she could press against their juncture. Janeway groaned and spread her legs further apart, pressing hard against the smooth skin, feeling herself slide slick against Seven's thigh. Seven raised up on her elbows, using her lips to trace her way over Janeway's chest to her breasts which she licked and nibbled hungrily, mouthing the small nipples avidly, alternating back and forth until Janeway was almost insane from wanting her.

"Annika..." she managed, tangling her fingers in the blonde hair, pulling it free of its bun, letting it spill free about the fine head, falling down to flow over her chest. "Please, darling ... now ... take me...."

Seven refused to comply, continuing to tease her for long exquisite moments, feasting on the lovely little breasts with loving intensity. Finally Janeway felt Seven's right hand slide between her thighs into the moisture and heat that awaited, moaning and shuddering as her long fingers carefully fondled the folds of sensitive flesh, finding the firm little nodule and manipulating it with tender skill. Janeway's hips began to undulate, pushing against Seven's hand, crying out wordlessly as the younger woman carefully penetrated the wetness, slipping easily into the captain, first one finger, then two, filling her with commanding yet tender strength.

Janeway shuddered at the sensation of those long, elegant digits caressing her internally, stroking deep inside her before curling up to find that little spot which made her lose all track of who and where she was. Then Seven's thumb found the aching ridge of hardness, manipulating it with precise skill, somehow impossibly intensifying the sensation. It boosted Janeway to that summit which trembled beyond her, just out of reach, hesitating for one brief instant of eternity, then with a wail of pleasure and utter abandon ripping from her throat, it shattered within her, leaving mere pieces of her to drift slowly back to reality.

It took a while before she was able to gather herself, slowly becoming aware of the warm strength of Seven completely covering her, and she clung to it, gripping the shoulder blades with wordless need. Swallowing hard, the captain opened her eyes to the smoldering ice-blue gaze looking down at her possessively, the blonde hair falling disarrayed about the face which held total love and adoration.

"Annika," Janeway whispered throatily, sliding her hands down the sinuous back. With an unexpected burst of strength, she succeeded in flipping them over so that they had reversed positions, Janeway pressing down on the lanky body with demanding pleasure. "You really are the most incredible lover."

Seven allowed a rare smile to part her lips, revealing the white flash of teeth. "This lesson in Humanity has always been my favorite."

Startled by the atypical flash of humor, Janeway laughed deep in her chest and kissed Seven passionately, sliding her hands over the slender form which pushed up against her eagerly. She had an overwhelming urge to absorb the young woman, to consume her utterly, to take her hard and fast and leave nothing behind. She literally had to restrain herself, careful to take her time as she made her way down the wonderful body. She delighted in the taste and scent of the smooth skin, lingering over the different textures she discovered along the way; the rosy circle surrounding the hard nipple which pebbled under her touch, the belly contracting sweetly around the metallic mesh as she stroked it, the fine, soft triangle of darker blonde hair which tickled her face as she nestled her lips on the incredibly smooth skin beneath.

Janeway parted the lengthy legs with firm hands, opening the young woman up to her, and with delicate grace, she gently drew her tongue along the tender line of each inner thigh before dipping into the musky wetness that awaited her, savoring the heat and the mild salt-sweet flavor of her lover. She could hear Seven's gasp of breath, the low moan as she arched up to the captain's lips and tongue. Janeway murmured in pleasure as she explored the intimate depths of Seven, cupping her buttocks in her hands and pulling the slender hips up to her mouth. She moaned in empathy as she found those places she had come to know so well ... tender, intimate places which, when manipulated just so, drew Seven completely out of her shell, destroying the iceberg demeanor she presented to the rest of the universe, and leaving behind only the hotly passionate woman who groaned and thrashed, growing louder with each passing second, spasming and clutching at the bed sheets, shredding them down to the mattress ticking. Pleasuring the young woman unmercifully, Janeway heard Seven cry out as the sensation shook her like helpless prey before finally, after long, intense moments, it tossed the Borg aside, leaving her limp and incapable of any further response. Only then did the older woman ease her loving assault, bestowing a few final fond kisses to the throbbing flesh before crawling back up to where Seven grabbed her in an almost, but not quite, bruising embrace.

"Kathryn," she sobbed. "Kathryn."

"I'm here, love," Janeway soothed quietly, holding her comfortingly, hoping with all her might that the soundproofing in her cabin was sufficient. Otherwise, if Chakotay had not already left for the day ... she tried not to think about that too hard. "I'm right here, darling." She held the young woman tightly, kissing her sweetly as slowly, in hesitant fits and starts, Seven managed to reconstruct her shell of composure. Carefully, Janeway pulled a blanket up over them, wrapping it around their entwined bodies that were cooling now that they were still.

"Kathryn," Seven whispered, stroking Janeway's back with long, smooth featherlight touches. "I have damaged your bed."

"I noticed," Janeway replied, regarding the torn sheets and mattress with dismay, and carefully disguised smugness, unable to deny that it gave her a certain satisfaction to know she had managed to make Seven lose all sense of herself, including the ability to temper the raw power of her implant. Even if it meant yet another invoice to stores to request a mattress. "Better it than me," the captain reminded with dry irony.

That had happened on only one occasion, very early on in their sexual interaction, and the sharply sarcastic lecture they had received from the Doctor as he repaired the lacerated back of the captain, not to mention the sight of all that shredded flesh, had been indelibly imprinted on Seven's psyche. Since then, the young woman was extremely careful to keep her left hand well away from Janeway during their most intense moments. Janeway, who had been covered with blood and certain other fluids, remembered the event with aggravation, not only for the shocking pain in the middle of what had been an extremely gratifying encounter, but also the fact that they had been forced to summon the hologram into her bedroom to treat her. It had been profoundly humiliating.

"I do not want to ever hurt you," Seven said, pulling back to regard her gravely.

Janeway smiled affectionately at her. "Believe me, my darling, I know that," she replied seriously. "You bring me all the happiness in the universe. I completely adore you."

Seven did not offer another of her smiles, but her pale eyes seemed to glow as if lit by some inner joy that radiated from deep inside her, making Janeway wish with all her heart that she could somehow capture that luminance, and carry it with her always. The captain spent a few more moments nuzzling her, whispering further words of comfort to her, reassuring promises of everlasting love, further healing the minor breach between them before the inevitable sleepiness stole over her with subtle demand. Janeway yawned and smiled ruefully as she rolled over so that her back was to Seven, who immediately wrapped herself around the smaller woman, her breath stirring the captain's hair. With a sigh of pure bliss, Janeway snuggled happily into the warm embrace, feeling more at peace than she had for some time.

"What of your shower?" Seven asked.

"Mmm, later," Janeway responded drowsily, not wanting to move an centimeter. "After a nap."

Within seconds, she was sound asleep.

"Bridge to the captain."

Janeway was jolted awake. So much for their day off, she thought dismally. "Janeway here," she said in a low voice, reluctantly easing away from the lanky warmth of Seven who was still slumbering peacefully.

"Long range sensors are detecting unusual readings, Captain," Chakotay said. There was a hesitation, then he added with sincere regret. "I'm sorry to bother you while off duty, but I think you should see them."

"On my way," she said, slipping quietly from the bed.

"Kathryn?"

She shot a glance back at the tousled head of Seven blinking at her with sleepy confusion. "I'm needed," she explained over her shoulder as she headed to the bathroom. "You stay in bed, sweetheart."

Janeway took a quick hydro shower, the fine needles of water driving away the last of her drowsiness and leaving her refreshed as she came back into the bedroom, drying her hair with a towel. She was surprised but gratified to find that Seven had risen as well, replicating the captain a fresh uniform which she handed to her as she brushed past to enter the bathroom. The thin whine of the sonic setting which Seven preferred for her implants, the cleaning action more efficient than water, vibrated subtly in the captain's head as Janeway pulled on her uniform. She was just pulling up her tunic fastening when Seven returned, dressed in a fresh outfit and every hair in perfect place.

Janeway eyed Seven with surprise as the blonde casually reached over and straightened the captain's turtleneck, making sure the pips were prominently displayed. Unable to refrain from the thought that perhaps the Doctor's idea of her living with the young woman wasn't such a bad one after all, Janeway realized this had been a well-coordinated effort with little wasted motion. She had the undeniable suspicion that it would've taken her much longer to get ready without Seven's assistance.

"I will be in astrometrics, Captain," Seven said, as they left the captain's quarters and entered the turbolift.

"Fine," Janeway said, her mind already on whatever Chakotay felt needed her attention. "Bridge."

The turbolift was quick and as she stepped off, she looked back for a second, making a point to smile at Seven, dipping her head in recognition of the look on the young woman's face. "We'll have a day off another time," she promised quietly before the door slid shut. The bright glow she had seen in Seven's eyes warmed her all the way through.

"Report," she said crisply as she walked down to the command level.

"Here, Captain," Chakotay stood up, relinquishing the command chair and motioned toward the monitor on the armrest. Janeway sat down and went over the data, her lips pursing as the import struck her. Wide-eyed, she raised her gaze to meet Chakotay's. She was aware of the rest of the bridge personnel looking at her with breathless anticipation.

"It's a wormhole."

"Yes," he said, and grinned widely. "All indications are that it's completely stable."

Janeway smiled and the rest of the bridge crew didn't exactly cheer, but certainly the release of breath was notable in its loudness. "The question is," she warned, not wanting them to get ahead of themselves, "where does it lead?"

"We've dispatched two probes. We should be receiving data shortly." Chakotay looked at her intently, lowering his voice. "I'm sorry, I thought you should be here."

"You were right," she told him in an equally low voice. "I would have been upset to miss this."

He nodded, reassured that he had been right in calling her to the bridge. If she had been in the holodeck or anywhere but in her quarters, where the computer informed him she was with Seven of Nine, he wouldn't have hesitated. Taking a day off to be with her lover, however ... it had taken him a while to key the comm badge. He was glad he had chosen correctly.

As the crew waited impatiently for the probes to start transmitting data, tension filled the air. Would this be their one chance to return to the Alpha Quadrant, make it back home to family and friends? Despite the fact they had no idea where the wormhole led, each crewmember found him or herself speculating on what it would be like to finally make it back.

At ops, Harry Kim considered the joy of his family at his safe return, the happiness his parents would feel at him walking through the door of their home. He had received one brief letter from them in four years. What would it be like to see their faces again?

Nearest the viewscreen, the more cynical Tom Paris held the ship at station keeping, wondering briefly at the reaction of his father, how his return would affect their strained relationship, especially when he brought a Maquis/Klingon woman to meet dear old dad. The imagined expression on his father's face provided him with several moments of amusement.

Tuvok, at his tactical station, was not in the habit of speculating or wondering, but he did allow that it would be gratifying to see his wife again, and his children. His oldest son had undergone pon farr and was now a father himself. That would alter their relationship, and he looked forward to what that might bring.

Chakotay was more leery of his reception. Resigning his commission from Starfleet to join the Maquis had lasting repercussions. A letter he had received from a fellow Maquis during their previous contact with the Alpha Quadrant, had informed him that the Resistance group was now destroyed, with only a few lucky ones surviving in Federation prisons while the rest had been slaughtered by the Cardassians, who were aided by something called the Dominion. Perhaps the Federation would no longer care that he and the rest of the Maquis members of Voyager were considered outlaws. Perhaps they'd even be pardoned. One thing was certain, however, he would no longer be first officer of this ship. He glanced covertly at the captain, wondering what was going through her mind.

Janeway stared at the viewscreen, unseeingly. The actions taken over the last four years could easily end up with her being promoted to a larger vessel ... or leave her court-martialed and disgraced. It was a toss-up either way, but it was likely she would lose Voyager, and a certain fact that no matter what, she would lose her crew, this group of people who had become a family. She worried what would happen to them, to the Maquis, to people like Tom and B'Elanna, to Neelix who would be the stranger in the wrong quadrant. To Seven, possibly having relatives waiting on Earth who would be less than impressed with her Borgness, and could end up hurting her terribly. Janeway tried to steel herself for the inevitable parting of ways, for the difficulties that lay before them, and found she was unable to. There was a very real pain in her heart at the thought of these people who had come to mean so much to her, being scattered to the four winds. She had broken the cardinal rule for captains; she cared very much and in a very personal way about each and every member of her crew. There was no question that the thought of losing these dear people left her aching and empty inside.

"Telemetry coming in," Kim said, excitement coloring his tone. "Astrometrics being transmitted now."

Eagerly, they all bent to their instruments, going over the stream of data that was being sent back through the wormhole from the probes. It was Tom Paris who realized it first, moments later, perhaps because he never really had high hopes to begin with. The rest took a little longer, but soon it was apparent to every one of them.

"The Beta Quadrant?" Chakotay said, staring at his monitor.

Janeway leaned back in her chair, covering her eyes with her hand. "Yes," she said, her voice harsher than intended. "Located 85,000 light-years from the furthest recorded exploration of the Klingon Empire. Farther away from the Federation than where we landed in this quadrant."

The disappointment was a bitter pill to swallow. For all of them, the gloom descending on the bridge like a dark shroud, almost smothering in its bleakness. Carefully, Janeway took her hand away and inhaled deeply. "Thank god the rest of the ship didn't know," she said quietly. "It only went this far."

"Hope isn't such a bad thing, Captain," Chakotay offered mildly. "It's kept us going this long."

Janeway looked at him, nodded in acknowledgment of the wisdom of the words. "I know," she said, putting her hand on his arm. She looked to Harry who seemed the most devastated of the group and let compassion color her words. "Mark it with a beacon," she instructed gently. "Maybe someone will be able to explore it someday."

Stone-faced, Harry, did as instructed, releasing a buoy to mark the location of the wormhole. As he did, Tom Paris remained staring thoughtfully at his console.

"Captain, has Voyager ever been in Klingon or Romulan space?" he asked suddenly.

Puzzled, Janeway looked at him. "No," she responded. "We were always assigned to other sectors."

"What about through the Bajoran wormhole?" Paris persisted.

"As a matter of fact, yes," she said. "We ran escort for a convoy returning to Deep Space Nine during our shakedown cruise ... a week or so before our excursion to the Badlands."

"So Voyager's been in the Gamma Quadrant," Tom said with some satisfaction. "But never in the Beta Quadrant." He turned his chair around, looked at the captain and Chakotay. "Oh, Captain, we just have to!"

She stared at him nonplused. Chakotay saw immediately where this was leading however. "You want us to take Voyager through the wormhole," he said, faint interest coloring his tone.

"When will we get another chance?" Tom insisted. He turned halfway back, touching some controls to send data to their consoles before spinning to face them. "Look, there's an uninhabited system not a half light-year from the other side. I say, we go through, stick a plaque or something that says we were there, then come back. How long could it take?" He looked at Janeway, excitement lighting his face. "Come on, Captain," he urged. "Voyager could be the first, and maybe the only Federation starship to do this. This may be her only opportunity. Doesn't the old girl deserve that much at least?" He patted the console fondly. "To dip her hull into the space of all four quadrants."

Janeway exchanged a glance with Chakotay who raised an eyebrow. "It's an idea," he said with an intrigued look, spreading his hands out in front of him.

She looked around the bridge, saw that even Harry had brightened at the proposal. "Let me think about this," she said slowly. "Hold position here in the meantime, Tom." She got up and nodded at Chakotay who quickly followed her as she led the way to the ready room. "Tuvok, you have the bridge."

In the ready room, she paced animatedly along the upper deck, looking at Chakotay who watched her with a half smile, standing quietly on the stairs. She stopped, put her hands together in a prayer-like motion, the tips of her fingers resting on her chin. "Chakotay?" she asked.

He grinned knowingly. "You want to do it. I can see it in your eyes, Kathryn."

She grinned back at him before sobering. "But am I justified in doing it? To deviate from our course just to say we did? To take Voyager through a wormhole into unknown space, expose her to who knows what kind of danger on the other side of the galaxy, all for the sake of some meaningless gesture that no one else might ever know about?"

"We'd know. It wouldn't be meaningless to us." He stepped up the last two stairs to stand next to her, looking down into her eyes. "If this were the Alpha Quadrant," he offered persuasively. "We'd already be exploring the wormhole, regardless of where it led. Kathryn, we said this was going to be a Starfleet vessel, with a Starfleet crew ... right from the beginning. It's our duty not just to get home, but to explore what we can along the way. You know this. You're the one who determined how it was to be, so why stop now?" He rested a hand on her shoulder. "We'll have plenty of disappointments along the way. Let's have an accomplishment beyond merely surviving for once."

She looked at him a moment longer, then nodded once. "Let's do it."

Excitement and anticipation swept through the ship like wildfire, the crew reacting with enthusiasm for the proposal; the Starfleet members, because, after all, this was the sort of thing they had signed up for in the first place, and the rest because it was positive and interesting and frankly, alleviated a bit of the monotony. Harry and Tom set to work on what sort of memento would be best for them to leave behind, signifying their visit, while Janeway and Chakotay pored over the data to make sure there were no hidden threats in either the wormhole itself, or the space beyond. In engineering, Torres, with Seven's assistance, went over every centimeter of the ship, making sure it was as prepared as it could be for the trip through the spatial rift. Meanwhile, the Doctor and Tuvok checked all their respective equipment in case things did not go as planned.

Even Neelix was caught up in the preparations, planning the celebratory party for after they had completed their mission. After all, this had significant historical value, even if it was only the crew who would know about it. Fortunately, they had just acquired a large supply of foodstuffs from a system a month back, and he would be able to put on a spread worthy of such an achievement.

Finally, all preparations were as complete as they knew how to make them. Janeway sat in her chair, looking at the viewscreen ahead. All her command staff was on the bridge. Even B'Elanna occupied the engineering console, not wanting to be down in the lower decks for what could be an historic occasion. The Doctor made himself busy at the starboard science console, while Seven took the auxiliary tactical post aft of the command chairs, though neither station required manning. Some of the beta shift took up spots along the upper line of the bridge, exceptionally early for their duty. Janeway hadn't had so many unnecessary people on deck one since the vessel had first been launched.

Janeway swallowed, then nodded at the helm. "Take us in, Tom," she said, glad her voice did not betray any of the flutters that had suddenly appeared in her stomach.

With majestic grace, Voyager turned into the area of space where the wormhole opened up obediently, a swirling mass of color and light appearing on the viewscreen. Then they were inside, the multi-hued streaks surrounding the ship reminiscent of the Bajoran passage leading into the Gamma Quadrant. As in that wormhole, this trip was brief and smooth, with no surprises or bumps, just a gentle entry into another part of the galaxy filled with unfamiliar stars, the wormhole closing quietly behind them without fanfare.

There was a brief hesitation and despite herself, Janeway found herself standing, not really aware of having risen from her chair, staring at the viewscreen with wonder. Knowing that they were somewhere no one else from the Federation had ever been, maybe never would be, that they were the first. "Welcome to the Beta Quadrant," she said huskily.

There was a loud cheer from the rest of the ship echoing from the ship's speakers, and from the voices of the bridge crew, as Chakotay led the applause. Janeway smiled, enjoying it for a long moment, and found her eyes straying back to the tactical station where a cool blue gaze caught and held her for a brief instant of joyful sharing.

"Lt. Paris," she said, projecting her voice to bring things back under control. "Pick up our probes. Then, lay in a course for the star system."

"Yes, Ma'am," he said, keying the controls before him with a broad grin.

Janeway sat back down, looking over at Chakotay. "I'll never get tired of it. This feeling of going where no one has gone before."

"Time to hang it up if you do," he said with a quiet smile.

She nodded, returning his smile warmly and looked towards the viewscreen, keenly aware of the others on the bridge who were bending to their tasks, recording all the data they could during this brief visit to yet another part of the galaxy. This was what it was all about, what sometimes got lost in their struggle to return home. For once, they were operating the sensors merely to satisfy curiosity, just to see what was there. It was purely scientific, and for the first time in a long time, Janeway was doing exactly what she had intended to do all her life.

"The system has five planets," Tuvok said. "No sentient life signs though the second planet indicates perfect conditions for such evolution. Both the second and third planets have moons. Might I suggest the smaller one orbiting the third planet as suitable for our task."

Janeway nodded. That appealed to her. For anyone to find it, they would either have to have evolved on the second planet and reached a technology level suitable to reach out that far, or they would be travelers through this area of space, hence already having achieved space travel. She stood up once more, looking at Chakotay. "You have the bridge."

She hesitated, having kept the identities of the away team to herself, though it was assumed by all that she would head it. She was just that sort of captain. "Ensign Wildman, Lt. Carey, Ensign Vorik, meet me in the transporter room," she said. She inclined her head at Paris, smiling at how his eyes lit up. "Tom, you and Tuvok are with me." With the exception of Tom, those people were the only ones still left on Voyager who had been on board for the trip to the Gamma Quadrant all those years ago. She invited Paris because it had been his idea, and frankly, that deserved a reward.

From the expressions on the rest of their faces, she knew they understood why she had chosen the people she had, and were not only accepting of it, but also approved heartily. "This shouldn't take too long," she said before leaving, the security chief and her helmsman at her heels.

Down in the transporter room, all of them swiftly donned their environmental suits ... the moon lacking an atmosphere ... and took their places on the transporter pad. Two crewmembers handed Tom the plaque and then, with a nod at the transporter chief, the away team disappeared with the traditional hum and sparkles.

They materialized on the moon's surface and Janeway leaned back, looking up, clearly able to see her ship keeping a stationary orbit above their heads. For a moment, the sheer beauty of her vessel brought tears to her eyes, and she felt such a connection to everyone on board and beyond, to all the explorers Humanity had produced throughout its long and varied history. On this small moon, a mere spec in the middle of utter nowhere, she was a part of something so large, so grand that the mere thought of it threatened to burst her heart from her chest.

She swallowed hard. "One small step..." she whispered.

"One giant leap..." added Tom's voice in her ear through the suit's communicator. His voice was filled with a shared wonder.

With difficulty, she cleared her throat and raised her arm, pointing at the outcropping of rock in the distance. "There, I think."

"Good choice, Captain," Tom said.

The group spread out and moved towards the outcropping, Tom and Tuvok carrying the plaque between them. They sat it on top of a huge boulder, using tools to weld it in place. It was made of duranium, the strongest substance they knew, about a half meter wide and 30 centimeters high, about 15 centimeters thick. Inside, it was hollowed out, data chips containing the history of Voyager and the Federation placed snugly inside, along with the standard greetings of peace and welcome. The outside was flat and etched with the words:

U.S.S. Voyager
NCC 74656
"Seeking out the four Quadrants;
Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta"

Perhaps one day, someone would stand here in their own version of their spacesuit and look at this, knowing it was alien and different and feel as Janeway did now, as if the whole universe was theirs, if only they dared try.

She was suddenly aware that the rest of the team had turned to her, anticipating her command as to what to do next, waiting for her to say something to mark this momentous occasion. She searched for the words, wishing she had prepared something and wondering why she hadn't. The only thing that came into her mind was the ship's dedication quote. She just hoped it was appropriate.

"For I have dipt into the future, far as Human eye could see; Saw the Vision of the World, and all the wonder that would be..." she recited softly, emotion deepening her voice, and she touched the plaque with a gloved fingertip. She looked around, unable to see their faces clearly through the faceplates reflecting the light of a thousand stars. "Janeway to Voyager. Bring us home, Commander."

The last thing she saw before the sparkles of the transporter obscured her vision was the plaque standing silent sentinel on the rock, the bejeweled emptiness of deep space beckoning beyond it.

Chakotay looked up as Janeway rejoined him on the bridge, her face alight with pleasure, looking like a young girl with her first taste of freedom. It was at times like this that he sensed the immense burden that she carried all of the time, aware of it only when it had been lightened briefly as this day's events had done. He was very glad they had decided to do this thing.

"Is the plaque secure?"

"For at least a few millennia," she smiled as she sat in her command chair. She looked towards the helm where Paris had relieved his replacement. "Set a course for the wormhole, Mr. Paris."

"Aye, Captain," he replied smartly.

"Captain, long range sensors are detecting a ship."

Tuvok's words chased all the lightheartedness from the bridge in a heartbeat. Adrenaline began to pump and with a sense of foreboding, Janeway stood up. "On screen," she said. Just once, she wondered idly, why couldn't things go as planned. Of course, there was no indication the ship was hostile, not yet at any rate, but the last years of encounters in the Delta Quadrant had given the crew of Voyager a pessimistic view of these sort of things. It was better to prepare for the worst, than expect the best.

The viewscreen flickered to reveal a long sleek ship, a little larger than Voyager. Ensign Kim looked up from ops. "We're being hailed," he said, voice tense. At Janeway's nod, he put it through. Once more, the fore view altered, revealing a woman with silver hair and startling emerald eyes. Two feathery antennae wafted from the inner corner of each delicate eyebrow, and the pointed tips of her ears peeked through the long, fine hair. She looked remarkably elf-like, a picture from some fantasy. Her voice was firm and self-assured.

"This is the Confederate Scout Ship StarRunner. Tazna Jade, First in command. Please identify yourself."

Janeway took a breath. They were polite, at any rate. And weren't shooting at them. Yet.

"This is the Federation Starship Voyager," she responded. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway. We're from the Alpha Quadrant."

The woman looked startled. "Alpha Quadrant," she repeated. She looked to the side as if getting a confirmation on the translation. Then she looked at Janeway once more. "I'm sorry, Captain Kathryn, but our sensors indicate that your technology simply will not allow you to travel such a distance. You entered our space through a spatial anomaly that we know leads to the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway nodded. "Yes, we were lost in the Delta Quadrant four years ago," she explained. "We discovered the wormhole and hoped it would provide a shortcut back to our home."

Tazna regarded her for a moment. "Captain," she said with mild reproof. "You didn't have to come through to figure out the wormhole leads here, to the Beta Quadrant."

Janeway nodded. "No, we didn't," she said, taking a second to revise her perception of the woman. She was a lot quicker than most she had been dealing with lately. She paused, then spread her hands out. "We were curious," she admitted simply, with a smile.

To her gratification, Tazna favored her with one right back. "That is something we StarScouts can relate to, Captain," she replied. "We too, are explorers, first and foremost. In fact, we have traversed the wormhole ourselves. However, I do not envy your journey there. We found our brief incursion most ... inhospitable. There were ... Hirogen? That's why we monitor any traffic that might come through."

Janeway shared the smile. "Yes, we have encountered them," she admitted. "It is wise to be alert."

"What is your intention, now? Do you intend to explore our area of space?"

"No," Janeway responded. "We came over merely to take a look, and now we must return to the Delta Quadrant to resume our journey home. Unfortunately, we are much closer there than we are here."

"I understand," Tazna said. "However, I would welcome the chance to learn more about your people ... do you require anything that would make your journey easier? Foodstuffs, medical supplies, fuel, perhaps? We would readily give these in exchange for any information about your travels that you could give."

Janeway was overwhelmed by the offer. It was such a marked contrast to practically every encounter they had experienced in the last two years. It was almost too good to be true. Suspicion darkened her eyes.

"I thank you," she said firmly. "But we cannot linger here. But you will find what you need to know about us in a container we left on the moon of the third planet in this system."

Tazna nodded at Janeway compassionately. "We will transmit a data pack containing our history and culture for you. I bid you and your crew a safe journey home, Captain."

"Transmission ended," Tuvok said calmly.

"Have astrometrics scan the data pack immediately, and set a course back to the wormhole," Janeway ordered and looked at Chakotay. "I think we've lost something," she said ruefully. "When did we become so reluctant to interact with new civilizations?"

"Maybe around the seventh time a new civilization tried to destroy us," Paris interjected wryly from the helm.

"Captain, I'm detecting a small vessel leaving the StarRunner," Tuvok related quietly. "On course for the moon."

"So, they'll soon have the information they wanted," Janeway said softly. "In the meantime, let's see what we can find out about them."

The Confederation of Species turned out to be remarkably similar to the Federation, comprising of several hundred star systems while the StarScouts were close to Starfleet in structure. The comparison between the two cultures, with the Elthanians ... Tazna Jade's species ... apparently fulfilling the role Humans had in the Alpha Quadrant was shocking and it made the crew of Voyager not a little homesick.

"Why couldn't we have been lost in the Beta Quadrant," Tom groused from his chair in the conference room where the senior crew, including Seven and Torres, were discussing the repercussions of their discoveries. They had spent the last few days going over the information in the data pack. Not yet accessing the wormhole, they had taken up a position where they could dart through it at an instant's notice.

"It could be a trick," Torres said. "A setup using false data."

Tuvok favored the Klingon reprovingly. "So could ours. They would have far more reason to be suspicious of us. We entered their space."

"Where is StarRunner now?" Janeway asked, sitting at the head of the table.

"They continue to maintain a position one light-year away," Harry Kim said, touching controls on his padd. "They seem to be waiting to see what we'll do next."

Janeway shook her head briefly. "Exactly what we would do if this were the Alpha Quadrant," she said with a touch of self reproach. "If nothing else, this is showing us how far we've strayed from Starfleet ideals."

"It's easier to be Starfleet when the rest of the Federation is only a hail away," Chakotay reminded gently. "We don't have that luxury."

"There is something else I feel I must point out here," Tuvok offered coolly. "This is very much like the Federation, peaceful and organized, with a broad multitude of cultures dedicated to exploration and scientific discoveries, with similar ideals and opportunities..." He trailed off, raising a eyebrow significantly.

Janeway looked at him, then took a deep breath. "Yes," she said. "I have an idea what you're going to say. This is not home, but from what we've learned..." her voice lowered, "it easily could if we wanted it to be."

The rest, with the exception of Seven and Tuvok regarded her with varying degrees of shock and speculation, and she met their eyes evenly. "It's something to think about."

"So we'll be staying in the Beta Quadrant?" Paris asked slowly.

"For the time being," Janeway said. "In the meantime, we'll continue to investigate the information we have received, and arrange further contact with the Confederate ship." She nodded at them. "Dismissed."

They all left except for Seven, who remained in her seat, regarding Janeway with an intrigued expression. Janeway caught her gaze, waited until the door had shut behind the rest, and then raised an wry eyebrow. "You have something to add?"

"Just curious, Captain. Do you wish to stay here?"

Janeway frowned slightly, looked at her padd. "Not necessarily, but if it's an option, then I have to offer it to the crew. They deserve that much." She looked back at Seven and softened perceptibly. "What of you? What would you chose?"

"Wherever you are," Seven responded calmly, with absolute surety. "That is where I will be. The actual location is irrelevant."

Though Janeway had insisted on absolute professionalism while they were on duty, the captain felt a wave of tenderness run through her, Rising from her chair, she swept quickly around the table to Seven where she leaned down and kissed her. Surprised, Seven kissed her back, putting her hands on the slender shoulders and holding her tight for a moment before Janeway straightened, looking down at her fondly.

"You really are the sweetest person, Annika," she said softly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "That is not something I have been accused of often," she responded. "Or at all."

"Take my word for it." Janeway regarded her pensively for a moment. "I don't know what's going to occur the next little while but it's doubtful we'll be able to spend much time together. You must be on your best diplomatic behavior."

"I understand," Seven said calmly.

Janeway smiled and touched her cheek fleetingly. "My love." Then she refocused and left the conference room. Seven made her way to the turbolift as Janeway took up a position in front of her command chair.

There she nodded crisply at Harry Kim. "Hail StarRunner."

Immediately the viewscreen revealed Tazna Jade. "I'm very glad to hear from you again, Captain Janeway," she said. "Yet, to be truthful, I did expect it after all we have learned of your people from your data chips."

"Yes, I must apologize for my abruptness before, Tazna First," Janeway said sincerely. Their research gave her the proper order of phrasing just as StarRunner's had apparently given the Elthanian. No more 'Captain Kathryn'. "It's been awhile since we've been greeted so well."

"I understand completely," Tazna waved it off. "From your logs regarding your travels, your journey has been a stressful one. One learns to be wary no matter what ideals one strives for. I am merely gratified that it has not destroyed all your trust in others."

"Not at all," Janeway smiled then added delicately, "We would very much like the opportunity to spend more time here, learning more about the Confederation."

"You are most welcome to do so," Tazna said. She touched controls on her chair. "There is a star port only a few parsecs away, Hearthstone. It has a fully functional shipyard, not to mention being one of the busier trading ports of this area. I believe it would be quite suitable for your purposes."

"My purposes?" Janeway queried.

Tazna rested her chin on her knuckles. "Were I to put myself in your place, Captain Janeway," she said gently, "and Voyager my ship, I would want a place where it could receive a complete overhaul, be fully restocked and allow my crew some much needed shore leave in a safe environment. In addition to learning more about the Confederation. Hearthstone is perfect for all of those things." She spread her hands out. "But you certainly don't have to take my word for it. I will send over the coordinates in any event."

She's a trifle presumptuous, Janeway's little voice noted idly.

She nodded briefly. "It sounds fine. What of you?"

Tazna dipped her head. "My crew thinks it would be a most wonderful idea for us to escort you there and host your visit. The fact that it will provide them with shore leave at Hearthstone as well, I'm sure, never once entered their minds." She grinned at Janeway winningly and despite herself, the Federation captain found herself returning it with complete understanding. "In the meantime, may we offer the first invitation? Dinner for you and whatever command staff you can spare on my ship tonight?"

Again, a touch of suspicion and Janeway smoothly countered. "Please, allow us to be your hosts this one night. I would be honored to show you Voyager."

"Of course," Tazna said easily, with no apparent concern. "The honor would be ours."

This either meant that the Elthanian First was a lot more secure in her superiority, if indeed she were up to no good, or that things were exactly as they appeared to be; just a friendly exchange of invitations from another captain, another equal who understood exactly what Janeway lived with every single second of every day. It could easily be a Starfleet uniform being worn by the Elthanian, and it was far more civilized than anything the Federation captain had experienced in four years. For a brief second, homesickness threatened to overwhelm Janeway.

"At 2100 hours?" she replied, and if her voice was a bit husky, neither chose to notice it.

"We'll be there," Tazna promised.

A low hum filled the transporter room as three figures materialized on the dais. Janeway waited patiently while StarRunner's crew appeared, looking around curiously. She noted that Tazna Jade was larger than she had originally appeared on the viewscreen, and more solidly built, topping Janeway by about 15 centimeters, her body curvaceous beneath the emerald uniform with brown accents at the shoulders and wrists. Like the Federation captain, she exuded a palpable sense of command, a formidable presence radiating from her like a tangible force. Unlike her accompanying crewmembers, she indicated no unease at being beamed from her ship, even though it was the Confederation's first exposure to Voyager's transporter technology. When she smiled at them, it seemed to illuminate the room, touching each individual with its warmth and personality. She was carrying a decorative bottle filled with some reddish liquid, which she presented to Janeway formally as they stepped down off the platform.

"Greetings to you and your crew, Captain Janeway Janeway," she said. "It is our custom to offer a gift when invited to dinner."

"Thank you," Janeway accepted the bottle graciously. She motioned to the others in the room. "My chief engineer, Lt. B'Elanna Torres and my chief of security, Lt. Commander Tuvok."

Tazna dipped her head elegantly at each introduction. "A multi-species crew," she noted with appreciation, which was the main reason Janeway had chosen the pair; to show the Federation's diversity. "One more thing we have in common."

"This is my healer, Marin," Tazna introduced her companions, the female, impossibly slender with green, narrow features and a smooth, bald head who nodded politely with dark eyes bright with interest. The large catlike creature, a male, had a full golden mane and loomed over everyone in the room though his motion was lithe and quick. "StarRunner's custodian, Rynard."

Rynard rumbled deep in his chest and bowed gracefully. "I would be eager to compare notes," he said to Torres who was forced to look up. Way up. "That was a most interesting experience. I would like to know more about 'beaming'."

"I'll see what I can do," B'Elanna allowed laconically.

"We've scheduled a tour of the ship after dinner," Janeway went on as she led the way out of the transporter room. "In the meantime, the rest of my command crew is eagerly waiting to meet you."

Tazna nodded as she walked beside the captain, her keen eyes taking in everything. "I look forward to it," she said. She flicked a glance over her shoulder at her two crewmen who were deep in conversation with the Starfleet officers and lowered her voice. "Both Marin and Rynard are experts at assessing need, Captain. They will be able to give you a concise report on what you can find at Hearthstone to service both ship and crew should you wish to avail yourself of their talents."

That explained why Tazna had chosen the ship's engineer and her doctor to accompany her to this dinner. Janeway was once more put off by the presumption of it, but then, she was used to having to scratch and struggle for every bit of assistance ... and that had been limited indeed ... offered her in the Delta Quadrant. It was hard to remember how things had worked with the Federation; how things apparently worked here in the Beta Quadrant. Assistance, the exchange of ideas, a simple helping hand, were offered freely it seemed, without hidden strings or cost. She knew she should be grateful for that and try not to allow her experiences in the Delta Quadrant affect her dealings with these people.

"I'll have them go over the ship with B'Elanna and our Doctor," Janeway responded as they entered the mess hall that had been decorated to the best of their ability. A long buffet table lined one wall, heavy with a variety of dishes as various members of the crew partook of the bounty. But despite this, the crew's mess was clearly what it was and for the first time in a long while, Janeway profoundly regretted the loss of her private dining area, which Neelix had annexed for his kitchen some years earlier. That would normally have been the place for her to host guests such as the ones from the Confederation, an intimate dining experience rather than the utilitarian starkness of the crew's mess and an informal buffet supper.

She swallowed her dismay and turned to Tazna, determined to stand tall with pride in her ship. "May I introduce the rest of my command crew," she said, extending her hand to her people who were decked out in full dress uniform. "My first officer, Commander Chakotay, Lt. Tom Paris, our helmsman, and our operations officer, Ensign Harry Kim. This is our astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine, our Doctor, and the one responsible for this meal, Neelix."

"Great Gnuex," Marin exclaimed, circling the holographic doctor with intense fascination. "It's not even real."

"Politeness," Tazna interjected warningly, her brows drawing down which did not intimidate her healer at all.

"I assure you ma'am," the Doctor said stiffly with a foreboding frown. "I am quite capable of performing as this ship's chief medical officer."

"And does a fine job," Janeway supported readily though she suspected she'd end up paying for that little boost to the Doctor's already formidable ego. "Our original doctor was killed when we entered the Delta Quadrant, and circumstances forced our Emergency Medical Hologram to transcend his programming."

"Incredible," Marin said with honest appreciation. "So you've actually become sentient now."

"I thought I always was," the Doctor said with a touch of asperity.

Marin smiled. "Of course," she said, moderating her tone. "You are most exceptional. Our holo technology is far below this." He preened visibly.

Tazna smiled, leaning over slightly to the Federation captain. "I think they'll get on fine," she confided to Janeway.

"I'm sure," the captain responded dryly. She flicked a glance over as Seven joined them along with Chakotay.

The first officer was clearly intrigued by the StarRunner's First, extending his hand and taking Tazna's in a warm grip. "It is indeed a great pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice a sort of warm purr that sparked Janeway's amusement.

"The pleasure is mine," Tazna responded with a detached politeness. Instead, the tall female's attention was fully centered on Seven of Nine, regarding the slender blonde with utter captivation. She swiftly disengaged her hand from the first officer, and brushed past him to reach out to the Borg. Seven blinked, apparently thought about it, and responded by offering her own hand which Tazna promptly bowed over, brushing her lips lightly over the Borg's knuckles.

"I am most enchanted to meet you," she said, raising her eyes to meet Seven's with deliberate regard, and it seemed her voice had dropped two octaves.

Janeway would have laughed at the expression that crossed Chakotay's face, but for the fact she suspected the same expression had just crossed hers. She could only watch in fuming silence as Tazna promptly proceeded to monopolize the young Borg's attention with grace and style, spiriting Seven away to the buffet table where she filled plates for them, keeping up a nonstop patter of compliments and charm.

"Don't tell me she's beat me out again," Chakotay mumbled beside her. Janeway raised a brow at him and he lowered his eyes. "Sorry Captain," he said with a half grin. "It gets a little tiresome to be attracted to someone, only to find Seven there before me."

"This is not exactly Seven's doing," Janeway reminded, not bothering to ask where Seven had beaten him out before ... for both their sakes. A tiny line furrowed her brow as she regarded the pair. It's not like she's objecting either, her little voice noted uncertainly. In fact, it kinda looks like our little Borg is enjoying the attention of that ... that taller, younger, incredibly good-looking starship captain.

Janeway shook her head slightly to get rid of that unwelcome thought and moved quickly towards where Tazna and Seven had positioned themselves away from the rest of the crew in a quiet corner. At a small, rather intimate table, she noted acidly. She smiled at them as she sat down without hesitation, displaying a bit too much teeth despite her best effort. "I'm very glad to see how well our crews are interacting," she said brightly.

"Yes, Captain," Tazna replied readily. If she were upset at the intrusion, she hid it well. "There are many similarities between our cultures. I look forward to forging a strong alliance between those of us in the Confederation with you from the Federation," She turned her remarkable smile on Seven at that last bit and Janeway wondered how it was possible for Tazna to be surviving the laser-like glare the captain was focusing on her. "I hope that we can also arrange future visits between our two ships. I, for one, would love to know what you think of our astrometrics department, Seven."

Seven raised a brow. "I would be most interested to see it."

"Tomorrow morning, then," Tazna replied quickly, then shot a look at Janeway. "With your permission, of course, Captain," she added with a careless confidence.

Janeway carefully composed her features. Anything other than approval would be ungracious in the extreme, especially after the Beta Quadrant personnel had displayed nothing but a friendly readiness to assist, but she was hating every second of this. It occurred to her suddenly that Seven had never really been romanced by anyone before, particularly by someone who apparently was as skilled at it as the StarRunner's First seemed to be. Janeway searched desperately for a way out of this quandary.

"Of course. I would enjoy a tour of your vessel." At least that way, she'd be present when Tazna was utilizing her wiles on the Borg, she reasoned, though what she intended to do to stymie it was still a mystery.

"Then I can expect your beam over tomorrow at 0800," Tazna said with a smile. "I will personally conduct the tour." She favored Seven with a look of pure sensuality.

Giving Janeway an incredible urge to punch it right off the Elthanian's face.

The Confederation Star Port Hearthstone hung jewel-like against the stardusted backdrop of space, constructed of a crystalline material which ranged through all shades of color, glittering in the refracted light of the stars like the most glorious of treasures. Silvery forms of light darted amongst the spiraled towers, ships in orbit, or in the process of docking. Clearly it was a busy and prosperous area of space, and in exchange for what Voyager would have given freely, Tazna had arranged a complete servicing of the Starfleet ship. As she had explained, the Confederation scientists found the Federation data chips a literal treasure trove of knowledge and discovery ... the least the Confederation could do in return is to provide complete rest, repair and recreation facilities for them at their closest port.

Janeway knew she should be properly grateful and appreciative of the opportunity Voyager had fallen into. StarRunner and her crew had been nothing but the most gracious of hosts to the lost Federation vessel, and there had been a great many transports and shuttle runs between the two ships while en route to the space station. The two crews mingled freely and were becoming quite friendly. The sight of an emerald uniform was a common occurrence on Voyager, as were the uniforms of Starfleet personnel traversing the corridors of StarRunner.

And one quite distinctive brown outfit.

Captain Janeway Janeway sat in her command chair and stewed furiously over the fact that even now, Seven of Nine was not on board, choosing instead to observe docking procedures on the bridge of the Confederation ship. The few times Janeway had managed to see Seven in the past few days, either in the conference room or in astrometrics, they had been unable to discuss anything beyond the most minor of ship's business. Seven gave absolutely no indication beyond a purely professional regard for StarRunner and its commander, but Janeway was all too aware of Tazna Jade's interest in Seven.

Not that she could confide her disquiet to anyone else. Everyone who came in contact with the Confederation First raved about the woman's wit and charm, full of admiration for the commander whose crew had been quite ready to reveal all sorts of stories about Tazna's many accomplishments and exploits. Janeway was completely unaware that her own crew had been just as quick to counter with their favorite 'Janeway or no way' tale. All she knew was that she seemed quite alone in her distaste for the intimidating female.

Just what could Janeway do about it anyway? Confront Tazna with her jealousy, inciting a physical confrontation with her? Hadn't she just sentenced Seven to ten days of solitary confinement for doing exactly that to Chakotay? That was assuming the larger, more physically imposing woman wouldn't promptly kick Janeway's ass all over the ship.

Maybe she could forbid Seven to visit StarRunner? Janeway winced as she considered the complications that would arise from trying to explain that order. If Seven even obeyed it, which was highly unlikely. Seven's stubbornness was, in its own way, as formidable as Janeway's, and less prone to persuasion. The last thing she wanted was to initiate a confrontation with Seven.

This was becoming patently ridiculous. These feelings of jealousy and insecurity went against every ideal and principal Janeway believed in, both professionally and personally, not to mention how absolutely undignified it all was. Besides, Seven was a grown woman ... perfectly capable of making her own decisions, even in the face of all that charm and flattery.

Don't you trust her? her little voice nudged. Isn't it what you demand from Seven?

I do trust Seven, Janeway responded to herself unconvincingly. It's the too-damned-sexy-for-her-uniform Tazna Jade, I don't trust.

"Captain, we're being given instructions on docking procedure," Harry said from his ops station, interrupting her bleak train of thought.

"Transmit to the helm," she said quietly. "Bring us in, Tom."

She watched as her ship entered the huge interior of the station's cavernous maintenance bay, which already contained a multitude of other ships undergoing maintenance. Two small tugs darted out, attaching lines to Voyager's hull, and with their guidance, the ship slid into her assigned berth with a slow gracefulness. Janeway could almost hear a sigh of weary relief from her cherished vessel as, for the first time in five years, Voyager was allowed to come to a complete rest, cradled in the space dock.

Once the dock had transmitted receipt of the vessel, the bridge crew began shutting down all non-essential systems and securing their boards. The ship was totally in B'Elanna's hands now, the chief engineer responsible for supervising the station's repair crews. The Doctor was coordinating with medical staff on the sickbay upgrades while Neelix was to arrange for the complete restocking of all food supplies. The rest of Voyager's crew were off duty, expected to vacate the premises and relocate to the station, something they were not at all reluctant to do. StarRunner's personnel had been extravagant in their praise of Hearthstone's excellent shore leave facilities and all were looking forward to the first big vacation they had experienced in years.

Except for Janeway, of course. She toyed briefly with the idea of staying with the ship and helping out in engineering but realized she couldn't; the memory of Torres' expression of pride at being given this huge responsibility still fresh in her mind. It would be damaging for the captain to appear to be looking over the Klingon's shoulder. The repairs that fully involved life support as well as the rest of the ship's systems prevented her from just staying on board in her quarters and out of the way.

"So what have you planned this week?" Chakotay offered as they got up to leave the bridge. "A romantic getaway with Seven?"

Janeway looked sharply at him in the turbolift, decided he was being honestly curious and quelled her initial icy response. "I don't know. I haven't talked to Seven in a couple of days. I really don't know what her plans are."

"Oh." Apparently realizing he had stepped in something he shouldn't have, he stole another look at her as the turbolift deposited them on the deck leading to their respective quarters. "I understand that accommodations at one of the finer hotels on the station have been arranged for us. Perhaps you and she will be able to find time for yourselves while we're here."

"Perhaps," Janeway allowed noncommittally.

"In the meantime, can I offer you dinner tonight?"

She regarded him, considering the offer carefully. Chakotay was her friend, and their relationship had developed into a marvelously layered and rich connection. There was no question that had circumstances been a little different, they could have easily been lovers, but it hadn't turned out that way and now with the introduction of Seven of Nine to the mix, they both knew it would never be. If the Borg saw them together dining together, what would her response be? Would the jealousy appear again, and take Seven's mind off the insufferable Tazna Jade?

Janeway swiftly squelched that little idea. She didn't play games like that, not in her past and certainly not now with a very inexperienced Seven. Besides, it would give Tazna Jade the perfect opportunity to comfort a hurt and confused young woman, her little voice prodded acidly. You be careful here, Katie. Don't do anything stupid. Janeway decided that was the best advice she had given herself in a while.

"I would like that," she said. "I'll even invite Seven if I see her."

"Of course," he said, as if that had been a given. "I'm bringing Lt. James."

Janeway shot him a surprised look. "Lt. James? Angela James? The science officer?"

"There's only one on the ship," he said dryly, though his face darkened a little as the blood rose in his cheeks.

"Good officer," Janeway allowed in a teasing tone as they stopped in front of door leading to the captain's cabin. "Very pretty. Nice eyes. Great body."

"Yeah, well, you have enough problems, Janeway," he responded, actually daring to tease her back in a low voice as the door hissed open. "Stick with blondes, why don't you?"

Amused and somewhat startled at the banter, Janeway was actually laughing as she stepped into her quarters.  Considerably cheered, she packed a small bag and made her way to rarely used main airlock where she met up with her first officer. They exited onto the docking ring and headed for the station's main promenade where they got their first good look at the station's interior. Sheer astonishment froze them in place as they took in the mass of people moving through the area.

It made Janeway realize how long it had been since she had been exposed to this sort of thing. Though Voyager had a decent representation of different species, they were primarily Humanoid simply because the ship was designed that way. Even StarRunner had maintained the usual bipedal Humanoid representatives. Here was a huge assortment of individuals, some sporting breathing apparatuses, with multiple limbs and barely recognizable sensory organs, walking, rolling and generally moving about in all manner of locomotive styles, providing a multi-colored agitated sea of beings flowing throughout the station's main thoroughfare. From where the Voyager pair stood in the main entry from the docking ring, located on an upper walkway, they could see signs to colorfully marked and coded sections where multiple gravitational and atmospheric sections were maintained for the station's clientele. But it was the sound that rolled over them that really affected them, a vast conglomerate of noise, which threatened to overwhelm their universal translators and deafen them with its sheer volume and variety.

Janeway was absolutely tickled pink. Their encounters with alien races in the Delta Quadrant usually consisted of one or maybe two species at a time. She counted thirty-six separate and distinct lifeforms just from where she and Chakotay stood gawking. This was why she had joined Starfleet, she thought giddily. This crazy, confused, grand celebration of life in all its diversity all interacting in functional, if exceptionally loud harmony.

They belatedly became aware that they were holding up the proceedings as an nearby individual in StarScout green cleared her throat and very politely motioned them away from the docking ring entryway. They hastened to obey, keeping close contact with each other as they scooted to the side of the walkway, leaning against the railing.

"StarRunner sent word that our hotel is three blocks from where we come in," Chakotay informed his captain, leaning next to her ear in order to be heard.

"Which way?" Janeway shouted back.

"Good question," he grinned. "Let's just pick a direction and if we don't come across it, we'll return here and try another."

"I can't think of a better plan at the moment," Janeway offered dryly as they started to walk, easing into the flow of the crowd. "I wonder if the crew is ready for this. It's been awhile since we've been exposed to this level of technology, or this density of species."

"I'm sure the lecture we gave them did the job. They'll be on their best behavior. Most of them are teaming up with crewmembers from StarRunner to act as their guides so it's not as if they're being dropped in here completely on their own."

"Right, so why didn't we request a guide?" she asked as she avoided a swiftly moving blob on what looked like a wheelless skateboard.

"I didn't think we needed one. I am an Indian Scout after all."

She eyed him skeptically, but as it turned out, there must have been something to his confidence because his first choice of direction had been totally correct. The amount of StarScout and Starfleet uniforms entering and exiting a set of large doors of a garishly decorated facility gave the pair their first clue that this was indeed, the hotel.

"Pure chance," she noted pointedly as they entered the dignified quiet of the lobby, a marked contrast to the cacophony outside which left their ears ringing. Inside, she saw several of her crew who had already been transported ahead while Voyager had been docking.

"Skill," he responded promptly.

"Captain, isn't this incredible?" Harry Kim's expression was one of total awe. Beside him, Tom Paris, cut loose by B'Elanna's need to stay with the ship, rolled his eyes indulgently at his friend, but he was grinning as well. They were clearly on their way out.

"It's very impressive," she allowed with a smile. "Try not to get into too much trouble out there."

"Don't worry, Captain," Tom said. He threw his arm around the shoulders of a stocky Humanoid with a reddish mane and distinctly peaked ears, dressed in an emerald uniform. "Barrus here is gonna show us all the hot spots. He'll keep us out of trouble."

"I will not lead them astray, Captain Janeway," StarRunner's Pilot assured her earnestly.

"I'll hold you all to that," she said with a friendly smile. Why do these people all have to be so damned accommodating, she thought crankily. She watched as the trio joined another group of Voyager and StarRunner crewmembers and exited the hotel.

"Here's your key," Chakotay interrupted her train of thought. He handed her a transparent strip of some type of plastic that was almost invisible against the skin. "Wearing it will access the door.  It's specific to you." He already had donned his.

"Where?" she said, wrapping it around her wrist as he had done.

"We're on the fifth floor," he responded. "Lift is this way."

He escorted her to her room before leaving her to find his own. She regarded the door before her warily and stepped forward, a little startled when it dissolved completely. It was more like a force shield, she realized, than an actual solid barrier. Inside, she stopped and took in her surroundings.

It was positively sybaritic, three times the size of her quarters on Voyager, and decorated lavishly in cool blues and greens. The carpet was thick beneath her boots, and she identified the large device tucked neatly in a corner as a fully equipped replicator, a large menu on the wall above it displaying the many services provided by the hotel, including room service and a fashion line of clothing. A large basket of flowers and fruit stood on the table, courtesy of the management, welcoming their visitors from the Alpha Quadrant and informing her of the line of credit the Confederation Council had provided for their stay. It was quite considerable, and she wondered if the rest of her crew had been similarly treated. Dear Lord, she'd never be able to get them out of here. With an aggravated snort, she strode through the main room into the bedroom.

Seven of Nine was stretched out on the gigantic bed, raised on an elbow as she studied a padd intently.

"Hello," Janeway offered with some surprise as she paused in the doorframe, her bag dropping onto the floor by her feet, unnoticed.

Seven looked up. "Kathryn. I requested that I be given access to your quarters while on the station. I trust that is acceptable."

"Quite acceptable," Janeway said dryly, but she could not contain the sparkle that changed her eyes to their deepest blue. She put her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she regarded Seven. "But I thought you found other interests to pursue."

"Kathryn?" Seven raised an eyebrow.

"Where is Tazna Jade?" Janeway went on foolishly, knowing she was probably going to regret it.

"I do not know," Seven said evenly, her pale eyes regarding Janeway with a perplexed expression. "Should I?"

Suddenly abashed, Janeway lowered her head and studied her boots. "I thought she would have arranged something for the pair of you to do while on the station."

"Actually, she did," Seven replied with her customary, devastating honesty, turning her attention back to the padd as she realized what Janeway had been asking, though she apparently did not attach any great significance to it. "She invited me to stay with her in the quarters she maintains on the station. I believe it was her intention to copulate with me."

Janeway felt her heart drop to the lowest reaches of her inner self. "What did you do?" she asked, controlling her tone with the greatest of effort.

"I explained that you are the only one with whom I ... 'make love'," Seven replied calmly, apparently oblivious to for the multitude of emotions that raged in the woman only a few feet away. "The First seemed surprised, and wondered why I had not told her of our relationship prior to her offer. Yet, the topic had not come up until that discussion," she added with a faint frown. She raised her eyes to Janeway's expectantly, clearly wanting to have that explained to her. "Was I in error? Is it required that I inform others of our relationship immediately?"

Janeway's lips twitched as she forced herself to resume breathing. "No, it's not required," she said, amazed at how even her voice was. "Certainly, I've requested that you're to be discreet about us."

Seven nodded with satisfaction. "Then I have conducted myself correctly. The Doctor feared I would not be able to interact successfully on a diplomatic level with the crew of the Confederation. I must inform him that he was wrong." She seemed to relish the thought of setting the Doctor straight.

Janeway felt herself becoming lightheaded. Carefully she took a deep breath and walked over to the bed where she sat down next to Seven, curling one leg up under her. "Seven, I've been very stupid."

Seven raised her head, meeting her eyes with a frown. "I do not think that term ... 'stupid' should ever be applied to you, Kathryn," she told her with mild reproof. "It implies a lack of intelligence. You are extremely intelligent."

"I'd like to think I am," Janeway said, resting her hand on Seven's hip. "But not always where you're concerned."

She hesitated. Should she explain this? It was clear the Borg had no idea of what Janeway had been going through, any more than she had recognized that Tazna Jade had been trying to seduce her. Would this only complicate things? Janeway truly believed in honesty and it was something Seven offered the captain without hesitation. At the very least, Seven deserved the same respect.

"I've been feeling very jealous, Annika. I was afraid that you found Tazna Jade attractive. I was afraid that you wanted to be with her rather than with me."

Seven blinked. "That is how I felt about Chakotay," she allowed with considerable surprise, and then added, intensely curious. "Did you wish to strike her?"

Janeway's lips quirked in a wry smile. "Oh, yes, Seven, many times," she admitted. "But punching her would have only made things difficult, and ultimately solved nothing. Being with me has to be your decision. I couldn't make you want me if you really wanted to be with her."

Seven stared at her for some time, brows lowered as she considered this. "I believe I am starting to understand. However, you told me that jealousy indicated a lack of trust. You do not trust me?"

"I didn't trust Tazna Jade," Janeway tried to explain. "And you're right, I guess I didn't trust your feelings for me. That was wrong and I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

"Very well," Seven agreed readily. She frowned, puzzled. "Tazna Jade also apologized for interfering with my relationship with you. I do not understand why. She did not affect my feelings for you in any way. I believe most individuals would have considered her offer appealing. I merely prefer to be with you."

Janeway laughed ruefully and leaned forward, resting her weight on Seven's reclined figure as she dipped her head to look into the ice blue eyes. "There is nothing 'merely' about that," she said warmly. "It means the universe to me."

Seven shifted onto her back, taking the captain into her arms as Janeway propped herself up on the Borg's chest, sprawling over the blonde's lanky form. "Please do not be afraid," Seven said softly as she tossed the padd forgotten on the bed beside them. "Because I do love you as much as I am capable. It is, apparently, an ability that increases exponentially with each passing day."

Janeway caught her breath. Seven had a way of saying things that could literally blind-side her with the sheer tenderness the words inspired. "I try not to be insecure, Seven," Janeway replied in an equally soft voice, studying the fine features. "I guess it's part of being Human." She put her fingertip on Seven's chin, tracing the dimple lightly. "As strong as we like to think we are, there's always a part that's afraid we don't deserve the good things that happen to us ... that we don't deserve to be loved."

"But you do deserve to be loved," Seven responded with some dismay. "You are the only one worthy of my consideration as a lifemate. You are courageous and wise and kind and beautiful. I have told you this on many occasions."

"Yes, you have." Janeway smiled. "But Tazna is all those things as well. Not to mention, taller, stronger and younger than I am. Logic dictates that you would be more attracted to her than to me."

Seven considered that for a moment. "Logically, you are correct, that is exactly what should have happened," Seven allowed uncertainly. "Yet, it did not." She frowned slightly. "I was not attracted to her at all, therefore I must conclude that love is not very logical."

"No, it isn't," Janeway replied evenly, regarding her with full eyes.

Seven studied her intently. "I am glad love is not logical."

"So am I."

"Is that why Tuvok is so uncomfortable when discussing it?"

Janeway laughed. "That's one reason, but I think if he were Human, he still would be uncomfortable talking about it. He's just that sort of man." She reached up and stroked Seven's cheek gently, idly observing the smooth skin beneath her fingers. "He is probably less interested in the love lives of others than anyone on the ship."

"I regret having caused him discomfort."

"He'll get over it," Janeway smiled. Then added as she remembered suddenly. "Chakotay has invited us to dinner."

"When?"

"Tonight, in about four hours."

"That allows plenty of time, then."

Janeway felt the corners of her mouth quirk up. "Plenty of time for what? For you to finish what you were working on when I came in?"

Seven considered that, regarding her intently with keen eyes. "You are being facetious," she decided finally. "I believe you know exactly to what I was referring."

Janeway smiled fully then, crinkling her nose. "Why don't you tell me?"

"I would prefer to show you."

"That would be acceptable too." Janeway caught her breath as Seven turned them over, pinning her to the bed. "Ahh, Seven, that padd ... I'm lying on it."

"My apologies, Kathryn." Seven fished out the offending device and dropping it on the floor. "Better?"

"Much," Janeway informed her, sliding her arms around Seven's neck, reaching up to undo the pinnings of the bun, allowing the blond hair to fall freely about her face. "What were you working on, anyway?" she asked idly, as she ran her fingers through the fine strands with languid pleasure.

"The wormhole," Seven said. "The Confederation intends to destroy it." She brushed her lips over Janeway's chin, and then covered the captain's mouth with her own, kissing her deeply.

The confusion and strong emotions Janeway had been experiencing lately, not to mention Seven's intoxicating kiss, kept the words from completely sinking in for a full minute. She freed herself from the full lips only with difficulty. "What did you say? They're going to destroy the wormhole?"

"Yes," Seven replied, appearing somewhat startled at the reaction. "They are concerned about the Borg Collective using it to enter the Beta Quadrant, and they do not feel they are prepared to handle such an invasion. They intend to detonate two quantum torpedoes at either end of the anomaly. I am assisting in determining what yield will be necessary to close off the wormhole."

"When are they planning on doing this?" Janeway asked, voice clipped, pushing Seven off her and sitting up angrily.

"In twelve days time." Seven lay on her side as she looked up at Janeway.

"When was I to be informed about all this?"

"Is that necessary? They do not require your permission to protect themselves."

"So they intend to keep us here."

"I do not believe so. The work on Voyager is to be completed in seven days. I am sure that if you ask, they will extend the deadline for its destruction until we are prepared to leave."

"Of course they will," Janeway said with deep sarcasm. "Why didn't you come to me with this?"

Seven raised her chin a little, her features showing that she had been stung by the tone in the captain's voice, but her voice remained calm. "I just did," she explained patiently. "This is the first time I have seen you in two days. All recent requests for you to meet with Tazna were refused because you indicated you were too busy."

Stymied by that little bit of truth, Janeway was still furious, nonetheless. She stood up, pacing about the room with agitated steps. She felt like Seven and Tazna Jade had done this behind her back, had engaged in some conspiracy to keep her in the dark until it was too late. She took long deep breaths, trying to calm herself, applying an iron grip over her swirling emotions, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

"Why are you so angry?" Seven sat up as she watched her.

Janeway felt her jaw firm, her back teeth grinding together in disgust. "I cannot believe that once again, I allowed my personal life to interfere with my command. This is completely unacceptable."

An expression of great alarm crossed Seven's face. "Do you intend to stop loving me?" she asked in a small voice.

You stop this, Katie Janeway's little voice suddenly hammered at her. Right now. You're blowing it completely out of proportion. Worse, you're scaring Seven.

Janeway turned to Seven, feeling the anger drain away instantly as she took in the expression on her face. "Never," she reassured in a gentler tone. "Oh, Annika. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I believe you," Seven responded uneasily, but confusion reigned in her brilliant eyes.

"Oh, God," Janeway sighed, and went over to the bed, forcing herself to lay back down beside the blonde, wrapping her arms around Seven and resting her head on her shoulder. "You're right, Seven, they don't need my permission to carry out whatever actions they deem necessary to protect themselves," she said with difficulty. "I know they have no intention of trapping us here."

She really had to take better control of things, Janeway thought dismally. Seven was doing her level best to make all the right moves in the relationship, and it was the older and supposedly wiser captain that kept finding ways to complicate things. The worst part about it all was that Janeway absolutely detested inconsistency in a relationship. Her very first love affair with Cheb Packer had been like that, on again, off again, breaking up over inconsequential things before getting back together. She had allowed his youth and insecurities to cause her more pain and anguish than had really been necessary. To be the one creating the same confusion and uneasiness in Seven now was intolerable. When Seven made a mistake, it was from sheer innocence, an unfamiliarity with the Human condition. Janeway didn't have that excuse and it both humiliated and confounded her.

Even now, Seven seemed the mature one, remaining quiet as she held Janeway in a loose embrace, allowing her the chance to work things out, waiting patiently for Janeway to explain what was going on instead of reacting with anger or resentment as would practically anyone else. Seven accepted the captain completely for who she was. No one had ever trusted in Janeway that much before, had ever loved her that much in her life. It was time she stopped taking that for granted. It was time she stopped pushing Seven away on one level as she tried to demand more of her on another.

"Seven, I know I'm not perfect," she said softly after a long while, turning her head to look into the pale blue gaze. "You remind me how difficult it is to understand people, to cut through the confusion and misdirection we generate without even trying. Even when I make all sorts of mistakes with you, you love me enough to stick with me. I know that no matter what else happens, I'm going to be a much better human being for loving you ... and for being loved by you. I'm sorry if it appeared as if I were angry at you. I think I've tried too hard to separate my being a captain from being in love with you. Both are integral parts of who I am, and it's time I started accepting that. I belong to Voyager ... but I belong just as much to you."

Seven absorbed that. "What does this mean?"

"I'm not really sure in terms of our professional relationship, but I do know what I want to do now with regards to our personal one."

"Make love?" Seven offered hopefully, eyes brightening.

Janeway laughed. "Well, that too. I mean beyond today. I want you to think about moving into my quarters with me, Seven."

"Live with you? Rather than in cargo bay two?"

"Yes," Janeway said, firmer as the idea solidified in her mind. She sat up and regarded the young woman intently and then, because Seven still looked somewhat confused, she suddenly rolled off the bed, kneeling beside it on one knee, looking up at Seven beseechingly. "I want to share every day with you, Annika. Please, live with me?"

Seven sat up, regarding her curiously from her perch on the bed. "Why are you on the floor?"

Janeway realized she didn't know, but tried to come up with a response anyway. "Because ... I want to impress upon you how sincere I am about elevating our relationship to the next level, which living together will do."

Seven was clearly intrigued by this, getting off the bed to join Janeway on the carpet, crouching next to her on her hands and knees. "Is kneeling on the floor part of elevating our relationship?" she wanted to know, looking at her anxiously. "At what stage is it at now?"

"I suppose I deserve this," Janeway muttered. She sighed. "It is a monogamous one, darling. You might want to consider the upcoming months a probation period prior to engagement. You may not want to move into that next stage after you've had to live with me for awhile."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. And why not?"

"I don't think I'm the easiest person to live with, Seven," Janeway said, feeling the beginning of a headache coming on. This had seemed like such a good idea when the impulse had struck her, now she sensed that she was losing her audience. "Annika, I've never lived with anyone before."

Seven blinked. "Not even ... Mark?"

"Not even Mark," Janeway replied honestly.

Seven hesitated, and then got up to sit formally on the side of the bed, knees together, hands folded primly on her lap, obviously willing to at least hear the captain out. Janeway remained where she was, but shifted knees, forcing herself to ignore the padd that had somehow ended up under it, and took Seven's right hand in hers, clasping it tightly. She looked deeply into the blonde's ice blue eyes.

"Annika, my love," she tried again with great sincerity. "Will you share my quarters?"

Seven studied her face intently. "Yes, I will." An expectant hesitation. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Janeway took a breath. In truth, this bit had escaped her in her impulsive leap into this grand romantic gesture. "Probably at this point, I should offer you a token of my love." She bit her lip at Seven's interested expression. "Unfortunately, I wasn't fully prepared for this, so I have no tokens to give."

"Oh." She tried not to look disappointed. She did not quite succeed.

"But I promise I will give you some kind of personal ornament to signify my commitment to you," Janeway added hastily. She offered a smile. "We're not just lovers, now, Annika, we're ... partners."

That did get Seven's attention. "We are?" Her eyes took on that glow and Janeway stopped feeling so silly and started feeling a whole lot happier that she had followed her impulse. Especially when Seven slipped off the bed once more to kneel before her and wrap her arms around her, kissing her sweetly. With deceptive ease, the Borg then lifted them both up until they were once more on the bed, falling backwards so that the captain landed snugly on top of her.

"You're becoming so much better at that," Janeway told her when Seven finally relinquished the kiss, looking down at her with a wry grin.

"Improved reading material," Seven informed her. "I wish to make love to you now." She frowned suddenly with some concern. "Is it required that we refrain until after a formal ceremony? Tuvok mentioned that certain cultures demand celibacy until that time."

"Definitely not," Janeway told her seriously. "This will no doubt be a long courtship, and not making love for its duration would be totally unacceptable."

Seven sighed with what seemed relief. "I concur," she said, and kissed her.

"You know," Janeway said conversationally as Seven wormed her hands under the captain's uniform, releasing the fastenings, and pulling off the tunic. "We should take a bath together."

Seven paused in her efforts to get the captain undressed. "'A bath'," she said skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, Seven, a bath."

"Are there facilities for such an activity?"

"No hotel worth its salt would go without a place for its patrons to bathe," Janeway explained. "Come on."

She wiggled out of Seven's embrace and rose to her feet where she reached down and entwined her fingers in the Borg's. "I know you've probably never had a bath before." She frowned suddenly. "Your implants won't be damaged by immersion in water, will they?" Though they had showered together previously, in both the sonic and hydro methods, apparently bathing was a somewhat different proposition.

Seven shook her head, allowing the captain to pull her off the bed and lead her into the large ensuite. "It would be inefficient if the Borg rusted," she offered helpfully.

Startled by the comment, Janeway laughed. The laugh trailed off as she took in the sight of the extremely large and luxurious round whirlpool tub dominating the whole of the ensuite.

"Oh my," she said with real appreciation.

She studied the controls set in the wall briefly before manipulating them with competent assurance. Soon water, or something acceptably close to water, was gushing freely from openings in the sides of the tub, steam billowing into the room as the captain adjusted temperature with care, programming the proper depth. Above her, a vast selection of bathing accessories were arrayed on decorative shelves and with the skill of a master chemist, Janeway poured from the assortment of provided bath oils with careful judiciousness, creating a thick mass of bubbles that gave off a woodsy, refreshing fragrance. From the broad smile on the captain's face, the Borg could tell that this was quite pleasing to her.

Seven raised an intrigued eyebrow as the captain pulled her sweater off over her head, taking that as an indication that it was permissible to return to what they had initiated out in the bedroom, and she reached out to her lover, pulling her into her arms, kissing her soundly.

"It is better in water?" she asked curiously between kisses and the removal of the rest of the captain's uniform that was tossed negligently in the corner.

"Not necessarily better," Janeway explained, as she helped Seven get rid of her own outfit, leaving them both nude in the damp heat filling the room. "Just different." She gently pulled away from the embrace, stepping into the tub where she settled into the hot water and bubbles with an expression of pure bliss. She reached up to the younger woman with a beckoning gesture. "Come on in," she smiled, her voice deepening. "The water's fine."

Gingerly, Seven mimicked her movements at the other end of the tub, waiting expectantly for Janeway to show her what to do next. Finding several sponges on the shelf above them, Janeway wet one and began to soap all over Seven, who was content to allow her to take the lead.

"This is...interesting," Seven said after a few moments.

"Only interesting?" Janeway queried in that tone that let Seven know she was being teased gently.

"Stimulating," Seven clarified.

Janeway laughed in that throaty way. "Stimulating is good. Isn't it?"

"Yes," Seven agreed readily. She retrieved a sponge for herself and began to return the caresses, very gentle as she ran the cloth over Janeway. She concentrated hard on the way Janeway's skin turned a delicate rose in the heat, and just how wonderfully enticing it was to watch the water spill over the firm body, how the suds slipped slick over the curves and nooks.

"Lean back," Janeway instructed quietly. Seven met her eyes curiously but did as asked, fitting her back to the smooth surface behind her. Janeway turned around, and slid backward until she was against Seven's front, leaning back on the younger woman. Seven wrapped her arms around her, resuming her use of the sponge with a new appreciation.

"I like this," Seven noted, taking the opportunity to breath in the delicate scent of the captain's hair. "My access to you seems augmented."

"Access is also good." She sighed happily and snuggled closer as Seven smoothed the sponge over Janeway's chest and belly with long, languorous strokes.

Seven occupied herself for sometime like this until deciding to shift the sponge to her left hand so she could use her right to rub her fingers over Janeway's nipples, trying to grasp them and unable to because of the soapiness. Intrigued by this difficulty, Seven dropped the sponge and made the attempt with both hands, the analytical part of her mind mesmerized by the removal of the friction coefficient, concentrating completely on the physics of soap against skin. The captain began to moan and writhe sinuously against her, resting her hands on Seven's thighs which encircled the smaller woman's hips and the Borg could suddenly feel the captain's fingernails dig into her gently, sending tingles of pleasure up and down her legs.

As Seven kissed along the smooth skin of the captain's neck, Janeway threw her head back to rest on the Borg's shoulder, exposing the fine line of her throat. Seven was amazed at how wonderful it felt making love in this medium and she began to understand what Janeway had meant about the differences. She realized that the water limited certain body-on-body positionings ... one could easily drown ... but this was quite pleasurable in its own way. Nor had she ever made love to Janeway from behind like this before. She could see it could be applied quite easily out of the water as well but for now, all this wetness added a most intriguing dimension to the process.

"Annika ... mmmm ... you're so wonderful to me," the captain breathed after a time, seemingly content to lay back and surrender utterly to whatever Seven wanted to do.

Seven knew Janeway adored this special attention being lavished upon her breasts, loved having them played with and caressed for long periods of time. Sometimes Seven was even able to trigger a climax in her simply by doing this, and from the way Janeway was shuddering now, her hands gripping Seven's thighs tightly, the Borg knew that her lover was close. With a renewed determination, Seven finally managed to capture the nipples between her fingers and with gentle pressure, squeezed in the correct manner even as she bent her head to nip carefully at Janeway's throat, feeling the cry that vibrated beneath her lips. The water rose in a sudden surge as Janeway's hips spasmed beneath the surface, sending the wave to crest against the far end of the tub, splashing and cascading over the edge to splatter on the floor.

"I love you," Seven said softly against her ear, releasing her hold on one breast to slide her hand over the flat belly, stroking her in soothing circles as Janeway's head lolled back on her shoulder. She continued to cup her left breast tenderly, comfortingly now, her thumb gently rubbing over the hard nub, appreciating the way the skin pebbled under the cool metal of her implant.

She increased the circumference of her circling, dipping lower with her right hand to stroke through the fine strands of hair, so soft and fleeting in the water, slipping easily into the crease and the abundant viscous moisture there, surprised to find such a clear distinction in the fluidity of the environment, easily identifying what was Janeway and what was the watery medium they were in. Fascinated, Seven explored this further, fingers moving over the small center of hardness that was still extremely sensitive from the first climax, causing Janeway to cry out from deep in her chest. Seven gentled her motion, stroking with light pressure as the captain pressed her whole weight back against her.

"Yes ... Annika ... that feels so good," she murmured. "Please, go inside ... darling, can you put your fingers in me....."

"Soon," Seven promised.

She continuied to swirl her fingers gently about the sensitive folds, paying close attention to the captain's respiration and the sounds she made in the back of her throat. With practiced timing, she judged the way Janeway's hips undulated against her fingers, the restless, halting motion of the captain's hands as they moved on Seven's thighs, sliding up and down, gripping them now and again. Then, only when it felt right to her, Seven slipped two fingers into Janeway, firmly thrusting into the tight opening, stroking fully and deeply inside as the captain cried out and arched up against her. She dropped her other hand from the breast to take up the caress of Janeway's hard little center, utilizing great care with the metal encased fingertips.

"Unhh ... oh god ... Annika....." Janeway rose up, tensing her entire body before falling back to climax again and again around the skilled elegant fingers that knew her so intimately, and loved her so well. Seven braced herself against the tub, keeping the captain's head above the surface as she kept her spasming helplessly until finally the captain collapsed weakly against her, unable to respond any further to her lover. Slowly, Seven withdrew her fingers, tenderly, smoothing over Janeway, up along her belly and sides ... cradling her sated and spent lover with strong and loving arms

For a long time, Seven held her as the water cooled around them. Her need was sharp within her, but contained, knowing that Janeway would take care of her eventually. In the meantime, it was enough to hold the captain in her arms, breathing in the soft fragrance of her hair, nuzzling the line of neck and jaw gently. Janeway turned her head, and Seven leaned forward, kissing her gently on the mouth, a benediction and affirming kiss of love and joy.

The captain swallowed hard, her throat pulsating as she rested her head on Seven's chest. "I wish I had the words to tell you how incredible you are. To make you believe how well you love me."

"It is you who is incredible," Seven responded gently. Softly she stroked along the line of collarbone, and down the captain's arms, featherlight caresses that slid over the skin with barely felt pressure before wrapping her arms around Janeway's chest, pulling her tightly against her.

Janeway hugged her. "Come on," she suggested huskily. "The water's getting cold, and I really want you on that wonderful big bed out there."

"I enjoyed our bath," Seven informed her as they got out of the tub and dried each other off with the large fluffy towels.

The captain rubbed the cloth gently over Seven's back and shoulders, soaking up the beads of water. "I'm glad. I certainly don't want it to be our last one together. You know, we have a wonderful tub in our quarters on Voyager." The phrasing of that, the acknowledgment of shared territorial perogative, created a warm spot within the Borg, and the look Janeway gave Seven, the sheer desire and wanting, threatened to immolate the younger woman right where she stood. Gently, the captain took her hand and led her into the bedroom and over to the bed where she pressed her down on to the smooth multi-colored bedspread.

Seven stretched out on her back as Janeway straddled her, rising above her like a goddess of Human myth. She looked up at her, eyes dark with longing and need, memorizing her, absorbing her. "I love you so much," she told her, reaching up to stroke Janeway's cheek gently.

Janeway smiled once more, taking the wrist in a strong hand. She kissed the palm gently then captured Seven's other wrist and pinned them both above the Borg's head. "I know you do," she responded softly, bending over her, her lips a mere breath away from Seven's. "I love you too. With all my heart."

She kissed her passionately, and Seven closed her eyes, surrendering fully to the heated promise in the kiss, to the soft strength in the small body resting on hers. From the moment this woman had stood before her on the Borg cube, there was never any doubt in her mind that Janeway was not a typical representative of her species. Despite all they had been through, their conflicts and clashes and confusion, the amazing moments of shared clarity, of complete understanding, and undeniable attraction, Seven knew without question that Janeway's was a spirit, an indomitable force, that could not be controlled or suppressed or constrained in any fashion. That she would allow a mere drone to love her was something Seven could barely understand. That Janeway would return the drone's love ... it was almost beyond comprehending.

Seven never ceased to wonder at this woman, at this assemblage of contradictions who was her lover ... who was her captain. A small, almost fragile Human female whose personality commanded whatever situation she was in, who could utterly decimate a person with a mere glare from those steel grey eyes, or cause them to transcend all they were capable of with a gaze of brightest blue; level eyes that could radiate compassion and loving warmth as easily as the cold, implacable promise of destruction. Then, there was the voice, that most wonderful voice, one that could project above the noise of destruction and battle, reaching out and eliminating fear, filling a crew with a determination and the belief that anything was possible. It could strike dread into the heart of those who would threaten or oppose all she held dear, or could surround this one heart, caressing, sending chills down the spine, whispering hotly in the lowest of tones, inciting the most ecstatic of responses in someone most considered the ultimate of ice queens.

She moaned softly as Janeway trailed her lips over her chin and jaw, down the long line of throat where she felt the strong mouth suck gently at the small hollow at the base. Janeway's lips did things to her, amazing things, things beyond comprehension. Sometimes Seven thought she would expire from the sheer intensity of it. She felt her wrists being released, though she left them where they were, as if secured forever to the bed, while the captain ran her fingertips freely over Seven's arms, stroking along her shoulders and over the rest of her body. Those hands were structural wonders, capable of the most delicate of touches yet commanding as well, with a firm strength that was far out of proportion to the slender, fine bone and tendons that constructed them. The rest of Janeway, so soft ... smooth and warm ... complete in her form, ideally created. Beautiful. Individual. This One above all others.

"Kathryn," she moaned her lover's ... her partner's ... name, tasted it lovingly as the woman moved over her with adeptness, using the wondrous mouth to explore her completely, pleasuring her with complete and utter skill. Consuming her with fire and desire.

"Kathryn," she cried out softly as hands and fingertips stroked her, demanding and sure, knowing, hard and gentle at the same time, steel covered in velvet. Powerful hands that held her, restrained her, comforted and cradled her. Loved her completely.

"Kathryn," she screamed as the sensation took her, overwhelmed her, swept over her in wave after wave, spasms of pleasure turning her into nothing more than a mere organism incapable of anything beyond what she felt, what she was experiencing.

"Kathryn," she whispered afterward, softly, yearningly, lying in her arms, clinging to her as if afraid to let go, needing nothing more than to be here with her, to love her and be loved by her.

She had strived for it all her existence as a Borg, and achieved it only in the most Human of ways in these moments of blissful satisfaction. With Kathryn. With her love.

Perfection.

Seven raised an eyebrow as Janeway came out of the bathroom dressed in a long, slinky sapphire number that set off her eyes and made the reddish highlights in her hair seem as if they were on fire. Sitting on the side of the bed, Seven had been waiting patiently as Janeway prepared herself for the evening, aware she was going to find something 'a little more appropriate' for this type of dinner. Janeway had utilized the hotel replicator with an abandon that was totally uncharacteristic of her, but from the expression on Seven's face, had been completely worth it.

"You are ... you look...." Seven started, paused and looked at her with bright eyes. "You are exquisite," she finally managed as she stood up.

Janeway smiled, touched more by the initial stammering from the usually poised Seven than the actual compliment. "My, your compliments have improved dramatically," she noted teasingly, resting a hand on Seven's arm. "I suppose you picked that up from StarRunner's First ... not that I'm complaining, mind you." She regarded her with appreciative eyes. "I see I'm not the only one with a new look. When did you get that?"

"It is a look I have been contemplating for some time," Seven admitted, ducking her head somewhat shyly. "Do you like it?"

"Very much so," Janeway said, standing back a little to take her companion in.

Instead of her normal brown outfit, Seven had donned one of a deep raven-black color, sleek with a less mesh-like quality and more silken as her first silver suit had been. Her neckline continued its downward trend, leaving her throat bare, the collar a tiny 'V' which stopped midway down her breastbone. Her heels had been shortened, bringing her down to a more manageable level for Janeway to look her in the eyes.

"The replicator suggested its functionality," Seven explained, "but I was able to contribute to its ... aesthetic properties."

"Which proves that you have better taste than the designer did," Janeway said dryly. She ran her fingertips along the line of Seven's right shoulder, then rested her hand on the bicep feeling the warmth and fine strength penetrating the thin material, the faint hardness of starburst implant. "It also is more Starfleet-like," she added with professional approval. She smiled up at Seven winningly. "It will be a great deal more suitable for your gift."

"'Gift'?" Seven raised an eyebrow curiously.

Janeway offered her a rectangular box, watching closely as Seven took it gingerly, enjoying the way her eyes lit up. "It's my token, darling. I had B'Elanna dig it out of my quarters and beam it down."

Seven looked at her, then down at the box, studying it carefully. She discovered the tiny latch, used her thumb to release it and lifted the cover back to reveal a whisper fine gold chain and a small reddish stone. Seven regarded it for long moments, then raised her gaze to meet Janeway's who was a little apprehensive, unsure about how her lover would receive the gift.

"It is beautiful."

Janeway smiled, a little wistfully. "I'm glad you like it. It was given to me by my father a very long time ago. I think he would be pleased to know I have passed it on to someone I cherish. The stone is from Mars, which is the fourth planet in Earth's system. It holds a certain significance to me that I can explain later if you like."

"I will ... appreciate it ... always." Seven swallowed hard. "I have nothing for you."

Janeway carefully took the necklace from the box and lifted it around Seven's neck, fastening it securely before resting her hands on Seven's upper chest and looking deep into the ice blue eyes. "Annika, in this place of loneliness, where I believed I couldn't afford to get close to anyone, you taught me how to love again. People think I gave you back your Humanity when in truth, it is you who gave me back mine. That is a far greater gift than anyone else has ever given me. I'll never be able to thank you enough for it."

Seven thought about that intently. "You are welcome," she whispered then added immediately with some dismay. "Those words are inadequate."

"No, darling," Janeway assured softly. "They are more than adequate." She slid her arms about Seven's waist and rested her forehead against Seven's chin, closing her eyes. "I love you."

Seven held her tightly, and Janeway became aware of the tears only when the moisture splashed onto her head. Surprised, she felt the woman trembling against her and she looked up to see Seven's eyes were closed tightly, tears sliding gently down her alabaster cheeks.

"I didn't mean to make you unhappy," she said with dismay, brushing the tears away as Seven shook her head slightly.

"I am not unhappy," the Borg replied in a low voice. "I do not know how to express these feelings. There is so much emotion ... it fills me, this love for you. I do not know how to feel so much and still function."

"Annika, you function just fine," Janeway confided, kissing Seven gently on the chin. "Sometimes I feel that you are more Human than anyone I have ever met just because you allow yourself to be." She tenderly dried the last of Seven's tears and drew her down for a final kiss as she heard the chime at the door. "That's Chakotay and his date. Let's go."

If Lt. James was intimidated by the company she was now keeping, she hid it well, more than holding her own in their conversation on the way to the restaurant. Janeway was impressed by her quick humor as well as the sharp mind, and it was clear that Chakotay was quite intrigued by her. Perhaps this would be a good relationship, the captain thought idly as they entered the restaurant.

Her face hardened as she took in the sight of Tazna Jade sitting at a table with her Healer, Marin. StarRunner's First stood up and motioned them over, inviting them to sit. Janeway exchanged an ironic glance with Chakotay, who grinned faintly, and she tried to remember that she was representing the Federation. Not to mention the fact that Seven was at her side, well within her personal space, hand resting inconspicuously but distinctly on her captain's elbow. Janeway decided that she could afford to be gracious. Besides, that was probably the best table in the place, and she really did want to find out more about the Confederation bombing the wormhole.

"Captain?" Chakotay queried, leaving it up to her.

"Let's join them."

"Captain, you honor us with your presence," Tazna said as they sat. Janeway noted that the First was a trifle flustered when she looked in Seven's direction, and she found herself perversely amused by that. Really, what was it about the woman that seemed to bring out the worst in her? Was it that she seemed to have all of Janeway's best attributes, and was younger, taller and sexier to boot? At least in Janeway's eyes.

But not in Seven's, her little voice pointed out. You keep that firmly in mind, Katie. Who did she choose to be with after all?

"Thank you, Jade." Janeway nodded at Lt. James. "You know Chakotay. This is Lt. Angela James, one of my science officers."

Tazna smiled and nodded at the young woman then turned her attention to Seven of Nine. "You look lovely, Seven," the Confederate First said warmly. "That is a very good look for you."

Seven dipped her head politely. "Thank you. I wore it for my captain."

Tazna met Janeway's eyes with a rueful stare. "Your captain is a most fortunate individual."

Janeway wondered if she looked as inappropriately triumphant as she felt. She really hoped not. It would be so gauche. "So," she said, abruptly changing the subject. "What's all this about you destroying the wormhole?"

Janeway was aware of Chakotay's startled look, and Lt. James looking on with wide eyes, but she kept her eyes locked with Tazna's who regarded her respectfully.

"I thought that would come to your attention. The revelation of the Borg Collective, not to mention the other species Voyager has encountered in the Delta Quadrant; the Vidiians, the Hirogen and others, offer a very real and possible threat to the Confederacy should any of them choose to invade. Since there's no real need for us to travel in the Delta Quadrant, it's been decided by the Confederation Council to remove the passage into our space." She eyed Janeway warily. "I did attempt to speak with you about this when the decision came down two days ago."

Janeway refused to lower her eyes or let on in any way that it was her fault. "I was occupied. In any event, I know now and I would like to be informed how this affects my ship and my crew."

Tazna shrugged lightly, holding out her hands. "I fail to see how it affects you at all. The destruction will not occur for twelve days and since the station's engineers have predicted they will be completed with Voyager in seven, you have plenty of time to leave before the passage is shut off forever. Even if there is an unforeseen delay in the schedule, I assure you we would not trap you here. The removal of the wormhole can easily be pushed back."

"That never crossed my mind," Janeway responded smoothly if a bit untruthfully. "I just have an aversion to destroying passages which can open up new vistas to anyone. It offends the scientist in me ... and the explorer."

"In truth, I am concerned as well," Tazna allowed in agreement. "But the Council is not populated by explorers such as ourselves, Captain, nor is the Confederation as a whole, interested in distant quadrants. For the most part, people are comfortable in their security, and they do not wish it threatened in any way. The Council leans to the will of the majority, and the StarScouts must always bow to the will of the Council."

"One can't argue with that," Chakotay offered. Both Tazna and Janeway looked at him oddly, and confronted with a double dose of the 'command' glare, he immediately subsided.

"Which leads you to a most difficult decision, Captain," Tazna added. "I am aware that certain of your crew are entertaining the idea of possibly making this a home. They would certainly be welcome here as our space is expanding quicker than we StarScouts can cover it. Any available qualified crewmember would be quickly snapped up by our ships or stations. In fact, many ships are starting to jockey for position, coming up with recruitment incentives." She favored Janeway with an evaluating look. "There's no question in my mind that you, yourself would fit easily into our structure, as a full First with your choice of vessels, one much larger than Voyager."

"I am quite happy with being a Starfleet captain," Janeway responded truthfully, flattered in spite of herself. "And with my ship. I have no real interest in staying, though I appreciate that your culture would be an agreeable one in which to live and work."

Tazna regarded her appraisingly. "What of your crew? Will you leave those who wish to stay?"

"If that's their choice," Janeway allowed, refusing to rise to the bait.

"How many can Voyager lose before she cannot function?" Tazna tilted her head quizzically. "Forty ... fifty?"

"I doubt it will come to that," Janeway responded, her eyes indicating that this topic had just about been exhausted.

Tazna nodded briefly in acknowledgment, accepting the captain's wish to end this line of discussion. "In any event, it's not anything that need be decided this night." She favored the rest with a warm smile. "Might I recommend the house special. The food here is quite delicious, if a bit spicy."

The rest of the evening passed quickly, and with Tazna no longer a factor to worry about in terms of a rival, nor able to do anything about her crew being approached with job offers, Janeway could only accept the inevitable and relax, granting herself permission to enjoy the evening. The meal was fabulous, probably the best the Federation crew had experienced in some time, and afterward, there was dancing out on a terrace that overlooked a section of the station's hull, constructed with a transparent crystal revealing an amazing view of gleaming towers, and the deep black of space. Janeway, to whom dancing was a skill she had acquired and enjoyed at a very early age, but had little opportunity to indulge in over the past years, was quick to drag the startled Seven onto the dance floor. The captain kept it very simple, and it wasn't long before the young woman had picked up the steps, able to follow Janeway's lead.

"I think you'll make a fine dancer," Janeway informed her with a smile as they swayed together. She raised an eyebrow as Chakotay swept by with Lt. James in his arms. They really did make an attractive couple, she noted fondly.

"Is that something I should strive for?" Seven asked as she concentrated on her partner closely.

The captain adjusted her hands on the taller woman's shoulders, indicating that Seven should lead which the Borg did, hesitantly at first, and then with greater assurance. "It could be something you can enjoy," Janeway explained patiently. "Dancing should be done purely for the sake of doing it. Being skilled at it merely enhances the experience. Are you enjoying this?"

Seven glanced around at the other couples on the floor, then looked down at Janeway. "I enjoy this sensation of movement," she responded. "I enjoy being with you. This allows me to touch you, to hold you, in the company of others whereas in most circumstances, it is forbidden. Yet, we are not on Voyager."

"No, but this is something we can do on the ship," Janeway told her with a smile. "Instead of Talent Night once a month, I'll tell Neelix to start holding dances, just so we can hold each other like this." She studied Seven for a moment. "Does it really bother you that you can't touch me unless we're alone?"

Seven did not answer immediately, face serious as she thought about it. "On occasion," she said finally, with careful consideration. "I do understand why I must not. When B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris are together sometimes in the conference room, even if they are not touching physically, it still makes me ... uncomfortable ... as if I have intruded on a private moment that should belong only to them. So it follows that were I to touch you in the way that I like to touch you, it would make others uncomfortable as well ... and that is not good for the functionality of the ship."

"No, it's not," Janeway allowed gently. She got the impression that Seven was finally beginning to comprehend the subtleties of what she had merely accepted as orders before.

"Yet, on other occasions," Seven went on slowly, "it can be exceedingly difficult; not being able to reach out to you. When we first entered this area of space for example, and you were so ... elated. I wanted very much to touch you then. I wanted to hug you, to share in your joy."

Janeway nodded gently. "Yes, I accept that. I wanted to touch you as well, in that moment, but all I could do is look at you. I want you to know it made the moment all the more precious when I saw you looking back with those beautiful eyes."

Seven sighed and rested her cheek gently against Janeway's temple. "There are other times, when things seem very bad, and you are so weary ... or when a crewmember has died. You have such a look on your face, one so empty and hurt ... so alone. I wish only to hold you close to me, to let you know you are not alone, to somehow ... protect you from such pain."

Janeway caught her breath and hugged Seven gently as they danced. "Annika, just know that at moments like that, there is absolutely not one thing you can do. You cannot protect me, as much you want to. But darling, I do love you dearly for wanting to."

Janeway felt the muscles in Seven's cheek flex and she knew that she must be smiling that rare smile. They danced to two more songs, holding each other close without any further words, delighting in this time they could spend together, before the slow music came to an end and the new selection, a much livelier sequence of tunes began. With unspoken agreement, they drifted back to the table where Tazna and Marin were also returning. The two couples looked at each other and then the healer smiled at Seven.

"Would you care to dance, Seven?"

Seven glanced uncertainly at Janeway, who nodded ever so slightly at her partner. "Of course," Seven responded formally. She allowed the female to lead her out onto the floor, leaving Janeway and Tazna to stare at each other.

"I feel I must apologize, Captain," Tazna offered as they sat down opposite each other.

"Seven is her own woman," Janeway said coolly, not bothering to pretend that she didn't know what this conversation was about. "I have no control over who she chooses to be with."

"She chooses to be with you," Tazna pointed out. "I hope you appreciate that."

Janeway smiled, though she knew it didn't reach her eyes. "I do, but I'm not in the habit of warning off ... interested parties. If I made a mistake in all this, it's that I forgot Seven does not always realize why people act as they do. Perhaps if you had utilized a little less charm and more honesty in dealing with her, you would not have been so ... disappointed."

"You believe I was disappointed, Captain?" Tazna remarked somewhat defensively.

"Were I to put myself in your place," Janeway drawled rather pointedly.

Tazna had the grace to laugh. "You are quite correct, Captain, it was a disappointment. I am not in the habit of being turned down, and in such an off-hand manner. People rarely know what they have or want as well as Seven. It was a refreshing, if humbling experience. You are a fortunate being, Captain. You know that the one you love, loves you completely, without question or doubt. That is a powerful gift."

"I know," Janeway replied.

And in that moment, somehow ... she did. With utter certainty.

Epilogue

Janeway walked down the corridor leading to cargo bay one, her mind not on the bright, sleek glow her ship had taken on since being completely cleaned, overhauled and upgraded in the Hearthstone dockyard, or even on the crew which had returned to resume their duties, refreshed and invigorated by their week long leave.

No, it was what awaited her now. Voyager's departure time was set for 1300 hours. Before that, all those who wished to stay in the Confederation were to gather in the cargo bay and be formally transferred from the ship. She would say a few words of encouragement, count the losses, and after they were transported away, try to make some sort of decision that wouldn't leave her feeling like a failure.

She didn't know how many had decided to remain here in the Confederation. She did know plenty had been approached by offers which, compared to the way they had been living for the past four years, were grand and glorious indeed; invitations to a lifestyle both comfortable and professionally challenging. It was ironic, after all the threats and dangers they had faced and conquered, that it was entirely possible Voyager's journey would end right here, not from destruction, but by the promise of a better existence.

She paused outside the great doors, afraid to go in. She knew for a fact that B'Elanna had been offered the position of Hearthstone's Lead Custodian, the stationmaster tremendously impressed with her skill and ability when they worked on Voyager. If she stayed, there was no question that Tom would as well. A pilot of his skill would be more than welcome anywhere in the Confederation. Chakotay ... he had actually been offered his own command. They had even shown him the vessel, a magnificent craft still under construction in the Hearthstone dockyard. Harry and Tuvok were not interested, of course, still having close ties back home, but there were many who no longer had anything left in the Alpha Quadrant to go back for; those Maquis without family or spouses, those Starfleet crewmembers who had joined for the way of life and not the organization itself, scientists and explorers to whom the 'where' was not as important as the 'how'.

She could not help but remember standing here once before. Voyager's crew had been given an opportunity to settle down on a planet which had been settled by the descendants of Human abductees; historical figures like Amelia Earhart and the pilots of Flight 57. In that case, no one had chosen to stay, not that in her heart of hearts Janeway had really expected anyone to. They were, after all, in space because that was where they belonged. Being stuck on one planet for the rest of their lives would have been too final for most of them. At that time, barely a year into their journey, hope was still fresh, the whole concept of being lost for 75 years still inconceivable. Four years later, despite the fact they were 15,000 light years closer, the hope they would be home in their lifetime had subsided and all that was left was the journey itself. Now, they were offered the opportunity to travel and explore space all they wanted, yet, still be able to make a permanent home in a safe and supportive environment.

And what of herself? Voyager could not operate with less than one hundred crewmen. Currently there were 150 on board. If more than a third wished to stay ... then either they would all have to remain, or she would have to try to do a little recruiting herself. Staying here was not an option she would choose willingly. She could not see herself swearing allegiance to the StarScouts; putting on an emerald uniform to replace the red and black one she wore so proudly. She knew that she had to return to the Alpha Quadrant, to the Federation, to Starfleet ... or die in the attempt. It was both her duty and her destiny. She simply could not live with anything less.

She took a breath, straightened her shoulders, arranged her features in the impassive mask of command and entered cargo bay one.

It was empty.

For the first time in a long time, Captain Janeway Janeway broke down in tears. This was the greatest honor she had ever known, perhaps ever would know. She heard the doors opening behind her, and she was aware of a presence she did not need to look back to identify.

"Commander Chakotay sent me down to remind you we will be underway in thirty minutes," Seven told her quietly. She was standing very close, not understanding necessarily what Janeway was going through, but aware that it was something very emotional, somehow needing to be close, and knowing that Janeway needed it, too. She rested her hand lightly on the captain's shoulder, not attempting anything beyond that.

Janeway nodded, a muscle jumping in her jawline as she fought to compose herself once more, wiping the tears away with her uniform sleeve. "I'm on my way," she said huskily. She turned her head to look at Seven. "I'm surprised," she admitted, knowing her expression showed everything to her crewmember, and not caring.

"That no one wished to stay?" Seven told her, with an arched brow. "That they, like me, would rather be with you in the Delta Quadrant, than anywhere else without you?" She shook her head. "In truth, it was to be expected. You are our captain. Voyager is our home."

Janeway allowed a smile to touch her lips. "Come on, time to resume our journey."

She reached out as they left the cargo bay, resting her hand on the small of Seven's back as they walked through the corridors. A casual gesture, but one not released even as they met other crewmembers on the way to the bridge, and it became quickly realized just what it meant; a public recognition of the relationship between the captain and this officer.

For the love just between them.

The End

•  This is the 3rd in the Just Between... series.

• Many thanks to a 'group' of beta readers (they know who they are) who gave freely of their comments and critiques as I wrote this. Above and beyond, people. Special commendation to you all.

• This takes place after the events of One, near the end of fourth year of their journey, and was first posted in June of 1998.

Just Between You & Me
G. L. Dartt

The alert to her door chimed softly, startling the captain, and she took a quick glance at the time displayed in the corner of her screen. She winced with dismay. Janeway had been working on crew personnel reports, and the time had slipped completely away from her. She was supposed to have met Seven of Nine, USS Voyager's astrometrics officer, for dinner two hours ago.

"Come in," she said.

Her tall, broad-shouldered first officer, Chakotay, entered her ready room. "B'Elanna just delivered the engineering report you wanted," he said, handing her a padd.

Sighing, she took it. "Are there ever enough hours in the day?" she asked as she scanned the data it contained.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he grinned as he eased his bearish form into the chair across from her.

She raised her eyes. "I just realized I missed dinner with Seven," she admitted. "Again."

Chakotay winced in sympathy. "What did you tell her?" he asked.

"I haven't come up with anything yet," Janeway said, making a few notations on the padd and handing it back, knowing he would have Voyager's chief engineer implement the changes right away. "I'm open to suggestions." She looked at him hopefully.

Chakotay tried very hard to contain the quiet snicker. "Men learn early in life not to stand up women," he said. "Especially those we're living with."

Janeway took a moment to regard him with lowered brows. "That's not very helpful."

"Then I advise flowers and candy and a lot of abject groveling," he said. "Always worked for me personally."

"I don't think it would in this case," she said, considering the advice seriously. "First of all, Seven wouldn't understand why I was giving her dead plants or non-nutritional supplements, and I'm afraid groveling is not something I can do believably." She eyed him accusingly as he turned his head to hide his face. "You think this is funny."

He held up his hand. "Not at all," he said, eyes sparkling as he bit his lip.

She waved him away. "Thank you for your help," she said dryly. "I'll come up with something on my own."

He got up, realizing he had been dismissed. "Anytime, Captain," he said, and did chuckle. He hesitated at the door, turning back. "However, just between you and me, if this has happened more than once, you'd better come up with a way to make it up to her."

"I will," Janeway promised, and as he left her ready room, she rested her chin on her hand, propping her elbow on her desktop. As much as she hated to admit it, Chakotay did have a point.

As a Starfleet captain, she had always maintained a proper distance from her crew. However, after her ship had been stranded in the Delta Quadrant some five years earlier, she had relaxed that protocol somewhat, forging the remains of Voyager's crew, the survivors of the Maquis vessel they had been chasing, and a couple of alien civilians who just wanted to come along for the ride, into a close family, with her as more than just a captain. She was the matriarch, the tribal leader, and this format had carried them through many an encounter with aliens, both friendly and hostile, as well as spatial phenomena that threatened to destroy them on many occasions. Then they entered Borg Space and found themselves in the middle of a war between the Federation's greatest enemy, and a species know as 8472.

Introducing Janeway to the Borg drone called Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01.

The captain had ended up literally kidnapping Seven from the Collective and it had been a very difficult time for both as the young woman adapted to being a part of Voyager's crew. Their conflicts had been both professional and personal, ranging from the trivial to the ethically profound, arguments and clashes that threatened to tear both of them apart. No one was more shocked and surprised than Janeway when she fell in love with the headstrong and arrogant young woman.

Though Seven falling in love with Janeway was apparently taken in stride by the imposing blonde as just one more adaptation among many on her way to regaining her Humanity. Janeway knew Seven accepted a lot of things about their relationship without question; things that would have infuriated any other human beyond reason. Things like the responsibilities demanded by Janeway's position, the needs of the crew taking precedence over their personal life, and of course, Kathryn's normal, everyday personality that made her occasionally inconsiderate. Like missing dinner for the third time in five nights without so much as a communication to say she wasn't coming home.

At least, Janeway hoped Seven would accept it. Seven didn't have the same respect for the four pips of command Janeway sported that everyone else on Voyager did, especially when it interfered with how the Borg thought things should be. Nor did the young woman have any problem informing the captain of all her failings with firm and devastating precision, in a voice so devoid of inflection its sharpness could cut duranium ... though that was significantly better than when Seven was upset. Janeway had discovered, to her great chagrin, that she couldn't take tears at all. All her previous lovers had been male, and she could not remember any of them ever crying in front of her. When Seven cried, it made Janeway completely helpless, and left her feeling like the most unfeeling, unworthy, most despicable lowlife ever existing in the history of Humanity.

She really hoped Seven was angry rather than upset.

Janeway was not looking forward to it, but suspected she really deserved whatever she received this time. The personnel records did not have to be finished for another week, she had just lost track of time. Quickly she shut down her board and logged off duty, leaving her ready room. She nodded formally at the officer holding the comm, and entered the turbolift.

As it descended to deck three, she rehearsed what she was going to say, debating over whether to shade the truth a little by claiming she could not leave her work, or doing exactly as Chakotay had suggested and flinging herself on the mercy of Seven. Who, Janeway considered dismally, had never needed to be merciful before and thus, was highly unlikely to know what the concept meant. Hesitantly, the captain paused in front of the doors leading to her cabin, which recently, had also become Seven's quarters, and took a deep breath before entering.

Seven was standing in the middle of the room. Almost six feet tall with blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, her beauty and personality had captured the attention of practically every crewmember on board. A soft grey metallic implant framed her left eye and brow, while a star-shaped piece rested at the corner of her cheek where the jawline terminated just below her right ear, stark testament to her time with the Borg Collective. Her left hand was covered in a fibrous mesh, and she was wearing a brownish outfit, which covered her curvaceous body like a second skin.

Bemused, Janeway realized Seven was gripping a vase in her right hand, but before she could wonder about it for long, the young woman drew back her arm and, with unerring aim, hurled it at Janeway who, thanks to several sessions playing Velocity with Seven, was able to dodge it ... by what seemed the thinnest of margins.

"What are you doing?" Voyager's captain yelped.

"I have been speaking to B'Elanna Torres," Seven said coldly, scooping up a fine crystal wineglass from the table. "She said this was the appropriate response for having been 'stood up' three times in a row ... for having been stood up tonight." Again, she fired in the vicinity of Janeway's head with all the impassiveness of a tactical tracking system.

Janeway barely ducked in time, wishing with all her heart that Seven and Voyager's chief engineer had remained enemies, rather than developing a sort of odd relationship where the Klingon/Human hybrid had begun acting as Seven's romantic consultant. Since B'Elanna's attitude toward relationships was more Klingon than Human, and so was her sense of humor, it made Janeway seriously wonder why Seven chose the advisors she did. The only other members of the crew that Seven looked to for suggestions was the Doctor, an Emergency Medical Hologram whose acerbic wit and unfamiliarity with Human socialization was barely beyond Seven's, and Tuvok, the Vulcan chief of security, whose antipathy toward emotion, particularly the illogical Human kind, was part of his alien culture.

Sometimes, Janeway thought Seven was being deliberately perverse in her choice of advisors.

Especially if this is the result, she thought as she neatly avoided yet one more flying object, a dinner plate this time, which shattered impressively on the wall behind her.

"Seven, this is completely inappropriate behavior," she barked. "I'm ordering you to drop that wine bottle." Wine bottle? Janeway took another look and saw the table had been set with candles, now burned down to stubs, and fine china, clearly done up for a special occasion. Her heart dropped as she realized it hadn't just been another dinner she missed, though she wasn't exactly sure what it was she had been late for.

Seven slammed the wine bottle back into the ice bucket, which splashed over, the ice having melted an hour ago. "This is unacceptable," she said flatly. "I cannot tolerate this."

"I'm sorry, Annika, really," Janeway protested. She reached out her hand in front of her pleadingly. "I didn't mean to miss dinner."

"You are always sorry," Seven noted, with unfailing accuracy. "Yet, you always do it again."

"Seven, I am captain of this vessel," Janeway said reasonably. "I have demands on me that require my presence." It was an old excuse.

"You were not required anywhere," Seven said bitingly, shredding the lie with unwavering logic. "You were supposed to log off duty two hours ago. You did not. You were supposed to meet me here for dinner. You did not. You promised nothing would keep you from it short of an emergency. Was this an emergency?"

Janeway regarded her a long moment. "No," she admitted quietly. "I lost track of time."

If she thought honesty would earn her points, it was a futile wish. Seven crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the captain with eyes that could burn through hull plating.

"I have accepted that you can only offer me whatever you have left after the demands of your position," Seven said. "Lately, however, you do not even offer me that. It is clear that you have no desire to be in this relationship."

The icy calmness was familiar, and much better than when Seven was throwing things. Janeway knew how to handle the cold anger though she was forced to admit, this was certainly not a new argument for her. She had participated in it several times ... not only with Seven, but also with Mark Johnson, the fiancé she had left behind in the Alpha Quadrant. Certainly, she had experienced it from the other side, as well, having witnessed her father forced to give up the better part of his family life in order to fulfill his duties with Starfleet. She remembered very well how that had felt growing up, of being overlooked, taken for granted, feeling as if nothing she did was ever good enough, or important enough, to catch his notice.

Was that how she made Seven feel? Perhaps she deserved to get pegged by a wine bottle, after all.

"Annika," she said softly, honestly regretful. "I was wrong. Once more, I ask you to forgive me."

Seven turned her head away, jaw set stubbornly. "No," she said. "I must always be the one to forgive. You told me that one had to learn from mistakes, to take opportunities to grow. You refuse to grow."

Janeway eased closer, carefully, ready to dart out of the way if Seven picked up another missile. "I know," she said contritely. "It seems the older I get, the less flexible I am, while you are the most adaptable of anyone I've ever met. But I do love you, Seven, completely, thoroughly .... with all my heart." She detected a softening around the pale blue eyes, the fine, narrow features becoming less rigid and she dared to reach out, resting her hand on the crossed forearms of her lover. "It's a hard thing to love a captain," she added warmly, persuasively. "But you do it so well. Don't give up on me now."

"I have no wish to 'give up on you'," Seven allowed reluctantly.

Janeway put her hand on Seven's right bicep, feeling the implant beneath the thin material of her outfit. "I'm sorry, darling," she said, reaching up to kiss Seven gently on the cheek. "Forgive me, please." She drew her lips gently along the firm jawline, tracing it, though she couldn't quite reach the mouth as Seven raised her chin stubbornly. So she concentrated on the fine line of the Borg's neck, kissing it sweetly. "Please, my love."

Almost involuntarily, Seven uncrossed her arms and took Janeway into them, embracing her lightly.

"You are infuriating," Seven said, but her tone was warmer, gentler.

"I know," Janeway murmured, sliding her arms around the tiny waist, brushing her lips over the soft skin. "You have every right to be angry. Let me make it up to you."

"How?" Seven asked, taking a breath as Janeway nibbled on the soft hollow of her throat.

Janeway smiled as she felt the arms tighten about her, Seven's head bending slightly, lowering to rest her chin against the captain's temple. "I'll clean up this mess, then I'll replicate you a feast fit for a queen," she offered, nuzzling her ear lovingly. "I want you to sit back and let me serve you in every way I can ... for the duration of the night."

Seven considered that for awhile. "Acceptable," she decided. She lowered her head even more and Janeway took the opportunity to capture the full lips in a kiss that promised so much more to come.

Pleased to be forgiven one more time.

B'Elanna Torres ran a final diagnostic of the warp core, just to make sure everything was operating as it should. It was a nice change to be doing maintenance instead of desperately trying to repair this conduit or that plasma relay. She was thankful they had been going through a relatively quiet area of space lately, no hostile lifeforms, no spatial rifts or anomalies which could damage both crew and ship, well aware of the fact that she was the primary reason this vessel kept functioning. It was not something she considered that great a chore either. She loved this ship with a passion deeper than that she had for anything or anyone else, including her current lover, Tom Paris, the fair-haired helmsman.

Though she loved him too, she admitted to herself with a bit of a grin, before returning her attention to the diagnostic which was quite satisfactory, though she wondered if a little tweaking here and there, could enhance the power signature just a little. She considered the results thoughtfully. Maybe if she brought Seven down from astrometrics, the Borg could offer a few ideas as well. It was B'Elanna's belief that Seven had the heart of an engineer, and that, more than anything, was what finally allowed the Klingon to warm up to the woman whom she had considered to be the most cold and unfeeling iceberg she had ever met. Of course, Seven's being involved with the captain had considerably altered her perception of the Borg, as well.

B'Elanna raised her eyes as the doors at the far end of engineering opened. Ah, speaking of the captain, she thought with a smirk.

Captain Janeway was an energetic person, radiating a sense of command and presence that electrified the very air around her. Compact, with auburn hair and the most marvelous blue-grey eyes, Janeway was an attractive and vibrant woman. B'Elanna occasionally wondered what would have happened if things had been a little different; if Tom Paris had not existed, if Seven had not come on board, if the friendship, and mutual love she and Janeway shared for this vessel, had ever been allowed to blossom...

B'Elanna carefully stifled that train of thought as the captain walked over to her console.

"Can I help you, Captain?" she asked.

Janeway smiled. "I was wondering if you had a chance to go over those recommendations," she said, referring to the notes she had added to the engineering report the night before.

"Yes," B'Elanna said. "I think they'll work. Good ideas, Captain."

"Well, I do have some once in awhile," Janeway said calmly.

B'Elanna hesitated slightly, then resumed her work. There was a tone there, not obvious but still, she had known the captain long enough to read between some of the lines. "So how was dinner last night?" she asked innocently. "I understand you were a bit late."

If Janeway was surprised by B'Elanna's familiarity, she hid it well. "Yes, I must thank you for advising Seven as to the proper way to handle that." There was a definite note of reproach in her voice.

B'Elanna raised an eyebrow, smiling, and then took a look around to see if anyone was in range of a conversation that was personal and not at all the type usually indulged in by the captain while on duty. No one was in the vicinity, and so she dared to pursue it, lowering her voice confidentially. "Did she nail you?" she asked curiously.

"Fortunately, I'm very good at ducking," Janeway said dryly.

B'Elanna snorted. "She wasn't as serious as a Klingon would have been then. You're lucky it wasn't me you stood up."

"I'll be sure to warn Mr. Paris," Janeway noted.

"Oh, he knows better than to miss my birthday," B'Elanna replied airily. "It must have been some gift you gave her for her to allow you in your quarters."

"'Birthday?'"

B'Elanna blinked. "Yeah," she said. "Neelix wanted to have a big party for her, but she said she wanted to spend it with you. I still can't believe you were late for that. So what did you get her?" Her voice trailed off as she took in Janeway's face which had gone a decided shade of pale. "Oh, don't tell me," she added with disgust.

"She never mentioned it," Janeway said, hand over her mouth.

"It's easy enough to look up." B'Elanna regarded her with something akin to pity. "Neelix did." She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back against the console. "Captain, there's no one I respect more, and no one else could have made me wear this uniform, or follow the Starfleet chain of command ... but just between you and me, sometimes I have no idea what Seven sees in you."

"Me, either," Janeway said mournfully.

"Ah," B'Elanna added, marveling. "It must be the number of pips, then."

"What am I going to do?" Janeway asked. "This is just awful."

B'Elanna took a breath. A few months earlier, she would never have expected to be having such a conversation with Janeway, but as time had passed and the crew grew closer, Janeway had become slightly more open with a small select circle of intimates which included Chakotay, Tuvok, Paris and B'Elanna. Still, it wasn't until she had settled into her relationship with Seven that she had started coming to them for advice, or just to talk, apparently realizing they were all she had in the Delta Quadrant. B'Elanna guessed that back in the Federation, Janeway had limited her confidences to her family, and maybe the occasional ship's counselor. That made it an even greater honor, one B'Elanna cherished ... not that it made things easier, however. Janeway had a habit of asking for advice after the fact, which made things so much more difficult, nor was she as forthcoming as she could have been about certain areas of her private life.

"Have you considered groveling?" the Klingon asked brightly.

"Chakotay suggested that last night for getting out of being late," Janeway said. "I don't think he knew it was her birthday I was late for." She pinched her nose between her forefinger and thumb. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"You'll have to ask Tom that one," B'Elanna said helpfully. "He's a lot more familiar with doing stupid stuff than I am."

Janeway favored her with a poisonous look and B'Elanna reined in her sense of humor. "Captain, from where I stand, it looks like you really blew it this time. I think you're going to have to earn your way back with a whole lot of little things, one step at a time. A grand gesture just won't be enough. It's going to take some time."

"Then, I'd better get started, hadn't I?" Janeway said, looking at her bleakly.

"Bridge to the Captain."

Janeway tapped her comm badge. "Janeway here," she said, completely the professional once more. "Go ahead."

"We're picking up something on our long range sensors," Chakotay's voice said over the channel. "I think you should come up here."

"On my way." Janeway was already heading out the door.

Behind her, B'Elanna looked down at her board. Poor Seven, she thought. Shifted to the bottom of the list one more time.

As Seven aligned the power couplings carefully in the junction box, Ensign Harry Kim held the tool kit, handing her the implements as she deemed them necessary. Seven rather liked the young Mr. Kim. Personable, and generally honest, the dark-haired, Starfleet officer had been one of the first people to offer the Borg friendship when she had first came on board ... not that she had appreciated it at the time, of course. Seven allowed that his habit of talking too much about whatever popped into his head was, on occasion, tedious, and his obvious attraction for her was somewhat annoying at times, but he was cheerful and warm, and despite herself, his personality had ... what was the phrase? ... grown on her. Now, she actually enjoyed the time spent in his presence.

"Spanner," she requested, then remembered. "Please."

He handed it to her, not interrupting his story about a course he had taken in Starfleet Academy with a professor he called 'Admiral Motor-mouth.' She had discovered that she could utilize her eidetic memory to store what he was saying without having to actually listen to it herself, freeing her mind up to concentrate on other things, such as her work ... or Kathryn.

Seven carefully stifled a sigh. There was so much about last night she did not comprehend. When Neelix had come to her two days ago, and asked if she wanted a party for her birthday, she had declined. Having learned that refusing such requests was less complicated when she mentioned she wished to spend time with the captain, she used that rather than say she didn't like parties, and saw no reason to have one on her account. Nor did she have any idea why a 'birthday' required one, but since she always wanted to spend time with Kathryn, it was not a dishonest excuse.

However, she had been truly annoyed that Janeway was late for dinner once again, even though the captain had promised that morning to attend. When B'Elanna called to wish her a 'Happy Birthday', Seven, naturally, had been forced to tell the engineer that she was not at all 'happy'. B'Elanna had insisted the Borg was being entirely too easy on the captain by accepting this habitual lateness. By the time the Klingon had finished explaining how very angry Seven should be about the situation, the young woman was more than willing to utilize the suggestion of throwing random objects at Kathryn once she entered the room as the perfect way to indicate such strong emotion.

Seven had to admit that Kathryn was far more contrite than usual after being forced to dodge a few missiles, and she wondered if it were something she should do every time they had a disagreement. Kathryn had been exceptionally loving and sweet in the aftermath, insisting that Seven be treated as some sort of superior being, actually feeding dinner to her by hand, and then afterward, in bed ... clearly Kathryn had realized her actions required a certain amount of restitution be paid, and she did so in a most delightful fashion.

Seven took a breath, aware that the demeanor displayed the previous night by Kathryn was totally unlike her natural self, and to be exposed to such a saccharine personality on a continual basis would be most trying for both of them. However, it was certainly gratifying, on the rare occasion, to be pampered and coddled and stroked beyond all reasonable expectation. Perhaps she would throw things at Kathryn only when she felt the need for such pampering.

"So I wanted to wish you a belated Happy Birthday, Seven." Harry's voice addressing her directly penetrated her train of thought and she found herself forced to listen to him on a conscious level.

"You do?" she said with a certain surprise. "Why?"

"Because we're friends, and that's what friends do."

"Ah." Seven looked at him. "Thank you."

He smiled, his dark eyes brightening. "I also wanted to give your present to you," he continued, drawing out a small, brightly wrapped package from the tool kit, and handing it to her.

Baffled, she examined the shiny paper, turning it over so she could see it from all sides. A memory stirred within her, of a cake with six candles ... and 'one to grow on' ... of packages wrapped in paper similar to this. Yes, she remembered now. Birthdays were to be celebrated, apparently in recognition of having survived one more year, and one received gifts for achieving that accomplishment.

Kathryn had not presented her with a gift, however. Was it possible that she was unaware of this tradition? Or that it had been Seven's birthday? Yet, Neelix had known, as had B'Elanna ... and now Harry. Why would they know, and Kathryn not? It was most disturbing.

"Thank you, Ensign Kim," she replied politely, knowing that was the proper response in this situation. "Should I open it now?"

He nodded. "Sure, Seven," he said amiably.

Carefully, she unwrapped the present, detaching the paper where it was bonded, revealing a delicate wooden box which, when opened, played a delicate melody most pleasing to the ear. Mystified, she raised her eyes to meet Harry's, and the young man blushed.

"It's a music box," he explained. "I wrote the song myself. That's a clarinet playing."

Seven hesitated. She saw no purpose for possessing such a thing, but she had learned enough about Humans to realize that Harry had obviously taken some time to create it, and that was worthy of respect ... and gratitude.

"I am  ... most appreciative," she said. "It is aesthetically pleasing to me, both visually and with its sound. I will think of you whenever it functions." Harry beamed and she knew she had said exactly the right thing, which was quite satisfying to her.

"So what did the Captain get you?"

That was much less satisfying.

"The Captain has not yet mentioned my birthday," she replied honestly.

"Oh," he said. He seemed shocked, uncertain, hesitating as he searched for the proper words. "Maybe she was just too busy. She is the captain, you know," he offered lamely.

"I am aware her duties take most of her attention," Seven agreed, then frowned. This was getting dangerously close to commenting personally about Kathryn, to a member of the crew who was not in the captain's immediate circle of confidantes. Kathryn had been quite clear to whom Seven could speak with about such things, and Harry was not one of them. "I am sure she will mention it when she deems it necessary."

She looked up and realized Harry was looking at her with an expression of sympathy ... as if something bad had happened to her. Now, she was even more confused.

"You disagree?"

He took a breath. "Maybe ... she's taking you for granted, Seven," he blurted. He looked at her with a disturbing intensity. "Maybe I'm out of line here, but I can tell you, if we were together, I'd never forget your birthday."

Startled at the thought, Seven stared at him. Kathryn took her for granted? That meant the captain perceived her actions as being predictable. Seven knew it was easier for Humans to make mistakes when a situation had taken on a repetitious quality. She believed Humans called it 'falling into a rut'. Perhaps, that was why the captain was always forgetting dinner ... Kathryn perceived each day as having the same routine, and it were possible that if Seven did something unpredictable, that would help Kathryn prevent further mistakes, such as forgetting dinner. Or her birthday. Or what birthdays entailed.

"Senior officers to Conference Room One."

Since the request had also come through her comm badge, Seven realized that she was expected to attend this meeting as well, and she handed the spanner to Kim to put away in the tool kit. Carrying the music box with great care, she led Kim out of the Jeffries tube, and accompanied him to the conference room, thinking hard about what she should do to help Kathryn out of her 'rut'.

Janeway made a quick notation in her padd as she waited for the rest of her senior staff to arrive for the meeting. Chakotay, Paris and Tuvok were already in their seats as the door hissed open to herald the arrival of B'Elanna, Kim and Seven. As Harry and Seven took their seats, and the Doctor and Neelix finally made their appearance, B'Elanna took a moment to pass behind the captain's chair and bend over by her ear, ostensibly to hand Janeway an updated engineering report.

"You are in so much trouble," she uttered quietly, barely moving her lips. "Harry just gave Seven a birthday present .. so now she knows you didn't."

Janeway glanced sharply at her, and B'Elanna shot her a significant glance over her shoulder as she made her way over to the chair between Chakotay and Tom. Dismayed, Janeway turned her eyes to where Seven was sitting between the Doctor and Harry. There was a finely stained wooden box sitting on the conference table in front of the Borg, next to her padd. A jewelry box? Janeway wasn't sure but whatever it was, it did not bode well for her. Damn that ensign anyway. Why the hell did he have to be such a nice guy?

In any event, she couldn't deal with it now.

Clearing her throat, she brought the meeting to order. "Our long range sensors have detected an unusual energy source on a planet two light years from here," she explained. "Since we are expected to rendezvous with the D'Naran tomorrow, Chakotay has offered to take a shuttle to the planet to investigate further before catching up to us later."

Chakotay nodded, and took the floor. "For some reason, this energy signature looks familiar to me, but I just can't place it," he said. "That's really why I want to check it out. B'Elanna, if there's nothing pressing, I'd like you to accompany me."

The chief engineer nodded. "All right," she said.

"I wish to go as well."

They all looked at Seven who raised an eyebrow, the implant lifting as she regarded them coolly. "I understand others in the crew have used such opportunities to provide a change to their daily routine," she said. "I feel an alteration in my 'habits' at this time would be beneficial ... if it is agreeable with you, Commander?"

B'Elanna dropped her eyes to her padd, studying it closely, refusing to look at either the captain or Seven. Janeway felt a muscle in her jaw twitch, her lips thinning, but she did not trust herself to speak. The rest, who had no idea that anything extraordinary was going on, had no particular response to this rather mundane request.

"I'd be glad to have you along, Seven," Chakotay said with a smile. "Everyone needs a break, now and again."

"Very well," Janeway said, having managed to regain her composure. "When do you intend to leave?"

"Right away," he said. "The sooner we leave, the quicker we get back, right?"

"Yes," she said, having no real choice, but to agree. She watched as he got up and left, B'Elanna and Seven at his heels. This is bad, she thought dismally. Seven is so angry she can't even stand to be on the same ship as me. Why the hell didn't I remember her birthday? How much effort would it have taken?

Sometimes, Kathryn Janeway didn't like the starship captain part of herself, at all. This was one of those times.

She looked at the other crewmembers who remained, and forced a brief smile. "Neelix, I trust you have a list of supplies that the D'Naran have agreed to trade for the astrometric charts," she said. She tried not to be obvious in hurrying the rest of the meeting along. If she got through this quickly enough, maybe she'd have time to speak with Seven before she left. Janeway knew the shuttle would require a certain amount of preparation before it could embark.

"I do, Captain," the pleasant civilian who doubled as both cook and diplomat on Voyager smiled at her. Resembling remarkably a humanoid version of a Terran hedgehog, his gold eyes sparkled with good humor and friendliness. If only all the aliens they encountered in the Delta Quadrant were as amiable. "Would you like me to read it to you?"

"Not now," she said quickly. "Doctor?"

"I've included a list of what medical supplies I hoped they could provide," he said. Tall, trim with a sparse frame beneath his blue and black uniform, he had been a revelation to her, far exceeding his programming to actually become sentient. "It remains to be seen whether they have them or not."

She nodded. "Harry, Tom?" she asked. "Status?"

"Operations are performing at maximum, Captain," Harry said crisply.

A bit too crisply. Janeway eyed him uncertainly as he stared at her, almost challengingly. Good god, Seven hadn't mentioned to him that she had forgotten her birthday? Yes, Janeway concluded gloomily, that would probably have come up in the conversation when Harry gave her the present. She could almost hear Seven's chill tones. "Of course, the captain did not present me with a gift, or even wish me a Happy Birthday. She has, yet again, neglected my well-being. Perhaps you would be a more suitable mate, after all, Ensign Kim."

With difficulty, Janeway dragged her mind away from that scenario, and concentrated on Paris who was giving her an update on the navigation systems before Tuvok outlined his report regarding the tactical array. All was status quo, except for her relationship with Seven if she didn't get her sorry ass down to the hangar. It was definitely time to try out that 'groveling' thing.

"Very well, good work people," she said, trying not to be obvious. "Dismissed."

She forced herself to wait until the room was clear before she walked to the turbolift with a reserved dignity. Once inside however, her voice rose alarmingly. "Hangar deck. Computer, what is the status of the shuttles?"

"The Edison is at standby. The Franklin is preparing to disembark," the computer's even, feminine tone responded.

Janeway tried not to fidget as the turbolift zipped through the vessel toward the hangar bay at the rear of Voyager. It was about as far away as one could get from the bridge, and still be on the ship, seeming to take forever to get there. Then, the lift doors were opening, and she was sprinting down the corridor leading to the entrance of the hangar. There were red lights blinking prominently along the edge of the large doors, indicating that decompression was already taking place. Dismayed, she darted through the smaller door nearby which led into the hanger deck control booth. She climbed the ladder quickly, nodding at the gold and black clad ensign working operations, and peered through the large transparency which overlooked the bulk of the hangar.

A small white shuttle was rising from the deck, heading for the open doors, beyond which, the blackness of space beckoned. She was too late.

"Captain? Did you want to contact the Franklin?" The ensign was regarding her with curiosity, clearly wondering what had brought her down to witness the departure of the shuttle.

"No," she responded quietly. "As you were."

Depressed, she left the control booth and returned to the turbolift. She would just have to speak with Seven when she returned, and she swore that from now on, things were going to be different.

She wondered if Seven would accept recieving a cake and lots of presents three days late?

B'Elanna glanced over her shoulder as she piloted the shuttle through the depths of deep space, heading for the system where the anomalous readings had originated. Seven of Nine was immersed in her console at the rear of the cockpit, where she was assisting Chakotay in matching the readings with other energy forms in the Federation database. He still hadn't put his finger on why the signature seemed so familiar to him, providing him with an intriguing puzzle.

At least, they both seemed to think so, B'Elanna thought as she studied the Borg surreptitiously. She had assumed that Seven had wished to leave the ship to put some space between her and the captain, but now she wasn't so sure. Though Seven was a remarkably contained young woman, B'Elanna had learned to tell when she was agitated or angry, and she just wasn't detecting those emotions in the Borg.

"Let's take a break," Chakotay said, straightening and stretching, raising his arms above his head. They had left the ship over four hours ago, and he had been working steadily ever since. "How about some lunch?" he offered, tossing a grin B'Elanna's way.

"Sounds good to me," she replied.

"I will take over the piloting duties if you wish to eat," Seven offered, coming up to take the other seat at the helm. "I do not require nutrition at this time."

"Thanks, Seven," B'Elanna said gratefully, before going back to where Chakotay was digging out the ration packets. She grimaced slightly as he handed her one. "On the other hand, maybe Seven has the right idea."

"Hey, c'mon," Chakotay laughed. "They're not that bad. Don't you remember the times when stuff like this would have sounded fantastic?"

B'Elanna nodded, grinning faintly as she allowed the point. She and Chakotay had both been members of the Maquis, the outlaw band of rebels who had been fighting the Cardassians to free the planets in the demilitarized zone. Chased into the Bajoran Badlands, their small fighter had been flung into the Delta Quadrant, and soon after, the Federation vessel dispatched to retrieve them ... or more notably, Tuvok who had been working undercover, infiltrating their group ... was also dragged into the Caretaker's domain. B'Elanna could well remember the times when the Maquis had subsided on very thin rations, and decided that Chakotay was right. Life had been so much better since joining forces with Starfleet, though she wouldn't admit that to just anyone.

"Are you sure I can't interest you in some replicated, preformed meat?" B'Elanna asked Seven, as she reclaimed her pilot seat, opening the package, which automatically heated the contents, gingerly putting the small tray on the console in front of her. Salisbury steak, reconstituted corn, mashed potatoes, and a small dessert made up her meal. B'Elanna had no way of knowing that these Starfleet rations greatly resembled something existing in the twentieth century called 'TV dinners', though purportedly, the rations were far more nutritious.

Seven glanced over, eyeing the brownish slab distastefully. "I think not," she said.

B'Elanna chuckled, and dug in. As food went, it wasn't that bad, certainly not after some of the concoctions Neelix came up with. She glanced back at Chakotay who was reading a padd intently as he ate his meal. He seemed completely involved with his studies, but B'Elanna lowered her voice, just in case.

"So, how did you like Harry's gift?" she asked.

Seven keyed some navigational corrections into her controls. "It was very thoughtful," she commented evenly.

"Yeah, that's Harry," B'Elanna said. "He's a thoughtful guy." She paused. "Not like Janeway, huh?"

Seven turned her head, pinning the engineer with her icy blue eyes. "The captain has a great deal more responsibility than Ensign Kim," she reminded her, a hint of rebuke in her voice. "She does not always have time to be 'thoughtful'."

"Hey, you don't have to tell me," B'Elanna said, holding up her hands. "So you're not mad at her for forgetting your birthday?"

Seven considered that for a moment. "No," she said finally. "I realize she has 'fallen into a rut', and I must take action to remind her not to take me for granted."

B'Elanna stared at her, trying to wrap her mind around that one. Seven's thought processes were so unusual in their formation that the Borg-assimilated Human seemed more alien to the Klingon than any species the engineer had encountered in the Delta Quadrant. Sometimes it was impossible to follow her train of thought.

"Is that why you asked to come along on this away mission?" B'Elanna asked.

"Yes," Seven explained. "By deviating from my daily routine, perhaps it will encourage Kathryn to deviate from her own ingrained habits."

B'Elanna, who figured Janeway had assumed what she had, that Seven was absolutely furious with her, snickered. "Well, I'll tell you this, Seven," she said. "You certainly keep her guessing."

Seven hesitated. "Is that good?"

"I think so," B'Elanna remarked. "Just between you and me? You don't want to let them get too comfortable."

Seven nodded sagely as B'Elanna chuckled again, and tackled the rest of her lunch, polishing off the ration pack with hungry intent. Afterward, she went back to the head, washed up, and finally retook the helm controls from Seven. "We're now entering the outer boundary of the system," she informed the other two. "Our ETA to the planet's outer atmosphere is about an hour."

Chakotay looked up from his book, and bent over the science station while Seven remained in the co-pilot's seat. The news had energized them a bit and the fatigue from so many hours of flying abated somewhat.

"Anything more on the energy readings?" he asked.

"No," Seven replied. "Sensors indicate no sentient lifeforms. The atmosphere contains significant amounts of arsenic and lead. We will require breathing apparatus."

Chakotay nodded. "I'm on it," he said. He accessed the cabinets at the rear of the cockpit, pulling out three environmental tanks. Like the full suits, these devices allowed them to breathe in thin or poisonous air, but they were more lightweight than the bulky outfits required for a total lack of an atmosphere, or a corrosive one. Their uniforms should provide sufficient protection, especially since sensor readings indicated warm temperatures, shading into the upper twenties of the Celsius thermometer.

The planet was not much to look at. The vegetation was an unappealing shade of reddish-brown and the earth was a greyish black. Ooutside, the clouds were sullen and thick, hanging over the dismal landscape, with little wind, and a rain that fell in a steady mist. The gloom made their descent to the surface visibly challenged, but relatively smooth. B'Elanna set the shuttle down lightly in a clearing between a cliff-side and the line of a gloomy forest.

The trio put on their tanks, made sure their tricorders and phasers were fully functional, and stepped out onto the planet for the first time. The ground beneath their feet was mushy and unpleasant, the slimly mud clumping on their boots and weighing them down.

"That's what I love about you, Chakotay," B'Elanna noted, voice muffled through her mask. "You always take me to such wonderful places."

"Well, I wouldn't bring just anyone," he responded. He looked at his tricorder. "The readings appear to be coming from the cliffs. Maybe, there's a cave?"

"About ten meters to the right," Seven directed coolly.

They found the entrance, shining their wrist lamps into the dark hole with a certain amount of trepidation. As the one in command, Chakotay took the point, crouching a little as he went inside. The only positive thing they could say about the experience was that at least they were out of the rain, though the shadowy, scurrying things that darted away from the edge of the light beams did not necessarily mean that was an advantage. Fortunately, the tunnel was short, only about six meters long before opening up into a large cavern containing a sandy floor and striated walls which glittered strangely in the muted light.

In the center of the cave was an oddly shaped stone sitting on an altar of rock, glowing faintly, and allowing the Voyager crewmembers to see the bones scattered at the base. They were able to pick out four individual skeletons amid the jumble, and as Seven knelt down beside them, the tattered rags they were clothed in crumpled to dust, indicating how very long they had been there.

"Humanoid, Commander," Seven said, running her tricorder over them. "The traces of atmospheric elements in the bone matter indicate they most likely died of arsenic poisoning. Apparently, they did not evolve here."

"I'll say they didn't," B'Elanna said, her tone odd as she read the readings on her tricorder several times, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "The genetic scans indicate that they're Bajoran."

"Bajoran?" Seven looked up. There were several Bajorans on Voyager, having been a part of the original Maquis crew, their planet having been subjugated by the Cardassians long before those in the demilitarized zone. It had only been freed a few years prior to the starship being stranded in the Delta Quadrant, but some of the inhabitants continued to fight the Cardassians as much out of habit as anything else. "How is that possible?"

"I'd say it wasn't," Chakotay said slowly, "except for the fact that I think that's a Bajoran orb. Now, I know why the energy readings are so familiar. I saw a couple of the orbs once when I visited Deep Space 9 while still a member of Starfleet."

"This is crazy," B'Elanna said. "How did they, and an orb, get way the hell out here in the Delta Quadrant?"

Chakotay shook his head. "I don't know," he replied. "However, I think we should take the orb back with us. I understand they have unusual powers. It's possible this could provide a way home for us."

Startled, B'Elanna and Seven stared at him. He shrugged.

"Besides, I'd rather examine it on Voyager than here on the planet," he pointed out. "We only have air for a few more hours."

Acceding to the practicality of that, B'Elanna and Seven helped him carry the orb back to the shuttle. They also gathered up the skeletons and carefully placed them in a stasis tube so that the Doctor could examine them more closely. It was with a certain relief that they shed their tanks, and launched the shuttle back into the air, heading for the chill cleanliess of space.

Janeway watched the last sparkles of the transporting D'Naran disappear from the transporter dais, and took a deep breath. The negotiations had gone smoother than she could have hoped, and now cargo bay one was almost bursting from the supplies offered by the small, rodent-like species, who found Voyager's astrometric charts the greatest of treasures. There was nothing better than a trade where both sides felt like they had gotten the better of the deal, she thought absently as she left the transporter room and headed for the lift. She wondered if that was a Ferengi Rule of Acquisition, and if so, which one?

"Bridge," she said, as she entered the turbolift and wondered why it seemed so slow. Maybe she would get B'Elanna to run a diagnostic on the entire system when the engineer returned.

A smile curled the corner of her mouth. Or maybe she wouldn't because, after all, she was planning to be very busy once the Franklin had returned ... once Seven had returned ... and none of those plans involved work.

Really, Janeway allowed to herself, she had been just dreadful to Seven recently. She wasn't surprised the younger woman had taken the opportunity to get away for awhile. However, she would return to find that Janeway had turned over a completely new leaf, one which made Seven first on the list rather than being continually pushed to the bottom. Janeway had the next three days all planned out and she was damned if she was going to let her command interrupt what she hoped would be a long weekend Seven would never forget ... and allow her to realize how very much she was cherished by a captain who didn't always take the time to show it.

Stepping onto the bridge, Janeway felt the warmth of its lights and sounds wash over her with comforting familiarity. Sitting down in her chair, she nodded at Tuvok who, just that simply, turned command over to her, neither requiring the formal transfer of conn that so many ships utilized.

"Any word on when exactly the Franklin will rendezvous with us?" Tom Paris asked over his shoulder from his position at the helm. Boyish, with tousled fair hair, he was the only other person here who had a vested, and very personal interest, in the question. Janeway smiled fondly at him.

"Their ETA is three hours from now," she said.

"We could cut that down considerably if we backtracked a little," he suggested, turning around to give her a pleading look with big blue eyes.

Janeway considered that. It was very appealing, but not practical. Voyager did not turn around and expend precious resources retracing her journey unless she absolutely had to, even for a short distance. It was a sort of unspoken rule, and as much as she wanted to see Seven, she couldn't justify breaking it now.

"Sorry, Tom," she said, not unkindly. "We'll maintain station-keeping here."

He sighed, but turned back to his board. Three hours wasn't so long, even if Voyager's warp engines could cut that down considerably.

"Captain, I'm picking up a distress call," Harry said suddenly from his position at ops. She stood, turning to look at him, and he raised his eyes to meet Janeway's. Somehow, from that glance, she realized what he was about to say next. "It's from the Franklin. They're being attacked."

"Yellow alert," Janeway snapped, and turned to the fore screen. "Tom..." However, she saw her helmsmen had already keyed the coordinates, turning Voyager on a dime and calling up warp speed without being told. She let it go. Sometimes protocols just got in the way.

"Warp nine," she said, granting him permission to draw on every bit of speed the ship had to offer, and hours became minutes as Voyager ripped through space to her threatened offspring. She frowned at her Vulcan security chief. "Tuvok?"

"Sensors are detecting plasma discharge from weapons fire," he said, "from a D'Naran ship. Their technology is no match for Voyager, but they could significantly overmatch a shuttle's resources."

"Why are they attacking?" she asked in a tone of utter frustration. She felt her hands ball into fists, and with an effort, she unclenched them, forcing herself to maintain an exterior of control. "We were getting along so well."

"Within visual range," Tom snapped, his tone stressed. "Dropping to impulse."

"I'm receiving a hail from the D'Naran vessel, Captain," Harry said.

"On screen," she snapped angrily.

The narrow face covered with fur and whiskers seemed even more rat-like to her now, admittedly, prejudiced eyes. "Captain Janeway, this is the D'Naran border patrol. The vessel trying to enter our space," he said. "That belongs to you?"

"Yes, it's our shuttle," she said, desperately trying to hold on to her diplomatic shell when what she really wanted to do was blow him out of space for daring to fire on her own. "Why are you attacking them?"

"They are carrying a forbidden object from the dark world," he said. "It must not be allowed to enter our space."

"I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding," she pleaded. "Cease firing. Allow us to speak with them."

"We will not allow it to enter our space," he repeated warningly. "Send them back."

"I will," she promised. "I will personally see that whatever they have with them will be returned to wherever they got it."

"Acceptable," he replied and the viewscreen altered to become a space field once more.

"The D'Naran have stopped firing," Tuvok reported. "The shuttle has ceased its progress and is maintaining position where it is. It has been significantly damaged, Captain."

"Can you hail them?" she asked.

"There's some sort of interference," Harry said. "I'm boosting the signal. There, got them."

She looked up to see a rather battered Chakotay looking at her from the viewscreen. Behind him she could see smoke and blackened, twisted metal. She could not see either B'Elanna or Seven, and presumed they were attempting to make repairs out of range of the viewer.

"What the hell's going on here, Commander?" she demanded. Fear sharpened her tone, and she made a determined effort to calm down.

"It's an orb, Captain," he said obscurely. A shower of sparks behind him drew his attention away. "Hold on."

"Captain, the shuttle's warp core is starting to breach," Tuvok said, and his Vulcan tone had a definite tone of urgency.

"Transporters," Janeway snapped.

"Trying to lock on," Harry said.

"Breach is in progress," Tuvok said.

The viewscreen flickered, revealed the shuttle drifting in space, disintegrating into a ball of light and flame as they watched.

"Ensign Kim," she said, and if there was a bit of a scream in her tone, then maybe the situation called for it.

"I'm trying, Captain," he said, voice desperate. "The interference is blocking the signal."

She forgot protocol, forgot proper etiquette. She leaped up the stairs and shoved Harry aside without hesitation, hands flying over the board as, on the screen at the front of the bridge, the shuttle finished exploding silently. Again and again, she keyed in the controls, drawing on every ounce of power her ship could give her, sensors sweeping through space, examining every molecule, transporter straining to grab whatever bit of organic material was there.

But there was nothing there to grab.

Finally, with utter horror, she accepted what the data kept trying to tell her. She stopped her frantic motion and looked up. Tom was standing in the middle of the bridge, his helm left unattended as he stared at her, shaking his head.

"No," he said, and there was complete devastation in his voice. "Oh no."

She opened her mouth, tried to speak, couldn't, and then looked back at Harry who was leaning against the wall, looking as if he were about to cry. "You did all you could, Ensign," she managed quietly, somehow maintaining her shell of command even now.

She stepped away from the console, looked at Tuvok who regarded her with as much compassion as he was capable of.

"You have the bridge," she told him in a voice that sounded very far away from her, as if it belonged to someone else. "Run sweeps over the area and try to find out what we can. Then, set a course for the planet where they picked up the object. I'll be in my ready room."

Somehow she walked across the bridge, stepped down the stairs to her ready room, walked through the door and sat down behind her desk, not sure of how she managed it. This was too big, she thought dazedly. It was too much.

Her two best friends. Seven, so much more than that, friend, lover, partner ... this simply could not be happening. Any second she would awaken from this nightmare ... wake up from this terrible dream state and reach over, and Seven would be there. She had to be.

If only she could wake up.

"Fuck."

The word somehow penetrated the dark morass of unconsciousness, and with an effort, Seven opened her eyes, looking up into the shadowy shape of a ceiling far above her. Much too high to be that of the shuttle or Voyager. She took a breath, and regretted it profoundly, every muscle screaming in protest. She looked down at herself, certain that she would see a good portion of her insides now occupying the outside and surprised to find she was still intact ... though the feeling of being turned inside out remained.

"What happened?"

Seven cast her eyes to the side in time to see B'Elanna Torres carefully ease herself into a sitting position, wincing with every movement. Beyond her, Chakotay was already in a seated position, head in his hands, leaning forward between bent knees. It was his voice which had woken Seven, the short bark of a painful obscenity. She thought about the word for a moment, trying to identify it. The pursuit of the puzzle kept her from contemplating her body, which was being entirely too contrary for her to deal with at the moment.

Ah, an Anglo-Saxon slang term, referring to sexual copulation, but in a lowbred, inferior sort of way. Seven remembered Kathryn using it once at an extremely vulnerable moment during their lovemaking, and the subsequent discussion which ensued, interrupted what they were doing and prevented Janeway from repeating it since. Though Seven would not have required it explained to her a second time. Sometimes, Seven thought Janeway forgot about her eidetic memory.

"Seven, are you all right?" B'Elanna said, leaning over gingerly to prod the Borg lightly in the shoulder.

"I am ... functioning," Seven allowed cautiously.

"Chakotay?"

"Still here," he grunted.

"Where the hell are we?"

Seven looked around, deciding that if she were very careful, she just might be able to sit up, and did so with many hesitations and involuntary sounds at the twinges.

"Not where we were," Seven said unevenly when she finally achieved an upright position. "Not on the shuttle. Not on Voyager."

"Yeah," B'Elanna agreed as she looked around keenly. "Y'know, if I didn't know better, I'd say this was Cardassian architecture."

"I think you're right," Chakotay agreed, managing to get to his feet, and examining the wall beside him. "Have we somehow been transported to Cardassia?"

"Not unless the Federation now runs it," B'Elanna said, looking closely at a panel on the container she was leaning against. "This shipping label originated on Risa. Destination is listed as Quark's, care of Deep Space 9." She looked at them all, eyes wide. "I think we just returned to the Alpha Quadrant."

Chakotay stared at her blankly, Seven, with keen consideration. This was the Alpha Quadrant? She looked around curiously. It was quite dark. ... and dusty. She sneezed.

The sound seemed to jolt Chakotay out of his stunned state. "Deep Space 9?" He took a breath. "You know, that makes sense."

B'Elanna arched her brows. "I can't wait to hear how," she said dryly.

"That was what I was thinking about just as the warp core breached," he explained. "While we were standing there, waiting to be transported, I was hanging on to that," he pointed at the orb, which was no longer glowing. It lay feebly on its side on the ridged deck. "I was wishing like hell I had never visited DS9. Wishing I had never saw that energy signature. This station was the last thing I envisioned when everything went funny."

"It transported us to where you were thinking?" B'Elanna asked. Her voice rose in excitement. "So we can transport us back, rendezvous with Voyager, and return everyone?"

"No," Seven said, running her tricorder over the orb intently. "The power it utilized to teleport us here has left it very fragile. Another transport may well destroy it. At the very least, it will drain the odd energy readings completely."

B'Elanna shook her head, looking disgusted. "There's always a catch, isn't there?" she grumbled.

"Hey, let's look on the bright side here," Chakotay reminded. "We're home."

Seven regarded him evenly. "Yes, two members of an outlaw group wanted for crimes against the Federation," she noted with edged precision, "and a Borg drone."

B'Elanna snorted. "She's got a point," she said. "Let's stoke that baby up, and get the hell back to Voyager."

Chakotay was looking at them with astonishment. "You want to return to the Delta Quadrant? Are you serious?"

"Kathryn is there," Seven said with absolute surety. "There is no where else I wish to be."

B'Elanna glanced at her with what seemed appreciation. "Seven's right, Chakotay," she said. "It's taken me ahile, but I've come to realize that there's nothing here for me anymore. Besides, how could I stay here, knowing Tom is probably going nuts? Even if they figure out where we've transported to, they have no way of knowing how we're going to get back. Don't forget, Voyager is still out there and alone ... without a decent engineer, I might add. I mean, Carey's pretty good but he doesn't know that ship like I do. You do what you want. Seven and I have to go back."

Seven felt unaccountably warmed by her support. Chakotay sighed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine," he said. "I admit, it's one thing to have us all come home. It's another to be just us returning to the Federation while the rest remain behind. It doesn't seem right somehow." He looked at them significantly. "However, we don't have to go back right away."

B'Elanna crossed her arms across her chest and looked at him from lowered brows. "You want to look around a bit?" she guessed.

"Not just look around," he said, obviously thinking out loud. "Look, we transported with all our equipment, and a good piece of the deck where we were standing."

He pointed at the large piece of hull resting on the station deck. The edges of it were blackened and melted, as if the trio had escaped just milliseconds before the warp core breach. In fact, that was probably exactly what had happened, Seven allowed silently.

"I bet if it hadn't been exploding at the time, we might have brought the whole shuttle along," he said. "Why not return with one?"

Seven eyed him skeptically. "Are you suggesting we take an entire vessel back with us?"

B'Elanna laughed. "Oh god, this is just like old times," she said, eyes sparkling as she looked at him. "A ship? Where would we get one?"

"Good question," Chakotay allowed. "I'm not envisioning anything too large, but certainly one we can stuff to the brim with items we can use back in the Delta Quadrant. Weapons, food, equipment, updated databases ... since we've decided we're going back anyway."

Seven raised her chin. "The captain would want us to contact Starfleet Command," she reminded him.

Chakotay studied her closely. "You're right, Seven, she would," he told her seriously. "Certainly, if I were still a Starfleet officer, that's exactly what I'd do ... but I'm not Starfleet, and the reason I left was not just because of the situation with the Maquis. There was a lot about Starfleet that I just didn't agree with. I think, if we were to go to them, they'd tie us up so badly with bureaucratic red tape and interrogations, we'd lose any chance at transporting back with an entire ship. At best, we'd have to return to Voyager herself, with nothing more than what we can carry in our hands. That's in the event that Starfleet, or Bajor doesn't claim the orb and keep it out of our reach altogether. However, if we keep quiet, spend a couple of days assembling a ship and cargo, we can 'wish' ourselves back to Voyager's general vicinity without too much problem."

He took a breath and looked at her with an intent expression, spreading his hands wide. "I certainly can't order you not to go to Starfleet, however," he told her. "Not in this case. You have to do what you feel is best, Seven. I won't try to stop you."

Seven considered his words carefully. He had made many valid points, and while there was much she did not understand, she did respect this man, and his opinion. If he thought this was the proper course of action, then she should accept that. "You are the commanding officer on the away team," she said finally. "I know the captain would want me to follow your lead."

He nodded, smiling. He seemed to understand she was leaving the decision up to him. The fact that she did not want to go to Starfleet either, that she was actually afraid of facing the organization which had defeated the Borg on several occasions, was something she chose not to reveal.

"Well, there is still one problem," B'Elanna said. "This is gonna take latinum ... a lot of it." She patted her pocket-less uniform. "Dammit, I must've left my bankroll in my other suit."

Chakotay nodded soberly. "We may no longer have any contacts," he admitted. "If the Maquis is truly gone, there's no one for us to depend on for help ... so I guess we'll just have to get creative."

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Of course we do," she allowed. "First, we have to get some new clothes and find a place to stash the orb where it won't be found."

Seven silently sighed.

Wishing she had never decided to alter her daily routine.

The sweeps turned up absolutely nothing, and there was no clue on the planet as to what Chakotay had found and tried to bring back to Voyager. Just an empty cavern, and trace elements of some energy wave. Nor was there much enlightenment in the stories told by D'Naran about the Evil Stone that had arrived in a blaze of fire and light, its creators falling down at its base, clearly struck dead by the malevolent spirits in the oddly shaped rock. Myth, altered beyond all recognition over the centuries, tied up in superstition and nonsense, unclear and untraceable. It was something that clearly  terrified the D'Naran, however, enough to fire upon a vessel that was entering their space with its energy signature on board.

Voyager couldn't even tell if it had been the D'Naran weapons that created the warp core breach, or if it had been the artifact somehow destroying the shuttle along with its away team. The interference which had prevented Voyager from transporting them to safety had dissipated, leaving no clue to its origin, and no reason why it had occurred.

It was senseless and no matter what they did, remained so. Just another tragedy in a history of tragedies for this ship lost and alone, so far away from hearth and home. After two weeks of fruitless investigation, there was no choice remaining. It was time to resume the journey, time to think of the rest of the crew, time to start the healing process.

Time to get on with their lives ... somehow.

Through it all, Captain Janeway had been the crew's strength, their rock, directing the investigation and working tirelessly, unceasingly, guiding them to seek out the slightest of leads until there was nothing left but to make the proper decision to move on. She arranged memorial services that put the first bit of closure on the needless deaths, as always, taking care of the ship first and foremost, doing what had to be done to allow them to survive, to continue on. Lt. Carey was installed as the new chief engineer, and she promoted Tuvok to first officer. Harry was accorded junior lieutenant pips to take over tactical, and Susan Nicoletti was brought up from engineering to replace Kim at ops. Filling the holes torn in the chain of command with competent, respected people who had long deserved a chance at promotion, despite the terrible circumstances which had precipitated it. An awed respect and admiration at Janeway's composure, at her complete efficacy in the face of devastating reality, spread throughout the crew, solidifying her position as their leader.

But then, she was a Starfleet captain, they reminded themselves as they went about the business of resuming their lives. The helmsman, Tom Paris? He could fall apart and that was completely understandable. As he lost weight and wandered about the ship, fulfilling his duties with but a fraction of his attention, allowances were made, and without anything said, the slack taken up graciously by others.

Not the captain, however. No, she didn't need such coddling. She was strong, unbreakable. After all, hadn't she faced the Borg themselves, and forced them to accede to her wishes? Brought the Hirogen to heel? Destroyed the Kazon who would dare threaten them? The crew had always known Starfleet captains were a breed apart, untouchable, undefinable, beyond Human frailties and weaknesses. That's what they were trained for, what they were born for, possessing that super-human ability to adapt and lead no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the odds. It was bestowed upon them as if it were a gift from the gods. In the face of Janeway's courage and dignity, the Voyager crew could respond only in kind as they implemented their course back to the Alpha Quadrant.

Of them all, only Commander Tuvok and the Doctor knew better ... and neither Vulcan nor Hologram had the slightest idea what to do about it.

Seven drew her hood up over her head, hiding her Borg implants and keeping her features in the shadows. It had been three weeks since they had arrived in the Alpha Quadrant. Three weeks of moving about the promenade and catching up on four years of news and events, counting themselves fortunate that their unexpected return had not occurred months earlier when the Cardassians had held the station.

The revelation of how much difficulty the Federation, with their allies, the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic, were having in the war against the Dominon, who had just allied with the Breen, had been profoundly shocking to both Chakotay and B'Elanna. To Seven, however, who had no memories of the Alpha Quadrant, it was just one more thing she had to adapt to. It was her opinion, in fact, that the war actually worked in their favor. There was no question that had this been peacetime, with much less activity and traffic occupying the station's Starfleet and Bajoran personnel, the Delta Quadrant intruders would have been discovered long ago. As it were, it had been very instructive to Seven to observe how easily her Voyager crewmates fell back into their Maquis ways, quickly contacting the underbelly of the Federation, and somehow digging up access to accounts in less than reputable banks that provided enough credit for them to live on without drawing too much attention. However, it was still a far cry from the resources they needed to purchase a ship and stock it with cargo.

Seven no longer agreed with the plan. It was taking far more time than she had initially anticipated, and it was getting to the point where she wanted to use the orb to return to Voyager immediately, even it meant returning empty-handed. She was also becoming increasingly uncomfortable amid all these varied species numbering in the tens of thousands. She could only imagine what it would be like to deal with an entire planet ... such as Earth. Even now, seated at a quiet table in the facility known as Quark's, Seven felt exposed and vulnerable. The Ferengi bar's clientele was both vast and multi-cultural, allowing them to become 'lost in a crowd', which was why they chose it as a meeting place. The concept was one that chilled Seven of Nine to the bone.

A motion caught her eye, distracting her from her discomfort, and Seven became alert as she identified the station's chief of security entering the bar. Constable Odo's reputation was legendary among the individuals surrounding her. She knew because she had eavesdropped on countless conversations while waiting to meet B'Elanna or Chakotay. To the Borg's dismay, the security chief made a beeline to her table, and loomed over her, staring down with blank features.

"Seven of Nine," he said politely if firmly. "I want you to accompany me."

Trapped, Seven coolly evaluated her chances. There were a great many innocent bystanders in the general vicinity, and she knew Kathryn would be less than impressed if Seven hurt or killed a group of them while trying to escape. Considering the constable's reputation, she was not at all certain she would succeed in any event. His species, the Changelings, were unfamiliar to her, never having been encountered by the Borg, and if the stories about his abilities were even partially true, he would prove to be a formidable opponent.

"We have your associates," he added as if reading her mind, forestalling her plans to elude capture.

Seven nodded, accepting the inevitable. "Very well," she allowed, and stood up with great dignity, allowing him to escort her out of the bar.

She could only guess at how the captain would feel at discovering her away team had been arrested. Kathryn would undoubtedly be less than impressed with that, as well.

Lt. Angela James looked down at her console at her science station on the bridge, and did her very best not to sniffle. It was just so horrible. The whole ship was still in mourning. Voyager's chief engineer was dead and her replacement was far from being able to fill her shoes, while Tom Paris, the man who loved her, drifted around the ship like a wraith, eyes sunk deep in his head. He seemed mere centimeters from passing over himself despite the best efforts of his friends, Harry Kim, Neelix and the Delaney sisters, who hadn't left Tom's side for a moment as they tried to help him over it. Seven of Nine, the astrometrics officer would have been the more obvious replacement for B'Elanna, but she was also gone, even though her significant other seemed to be handling her loss much better than Voyager's helmsman.

Angela supposed the captain had not loved Seven of Nine as much as Tom loved B'Elanna.

Lt. James was unsurprised by that. Both women had held themselves apart from the rest of the crew. Seven's inhumanity had been quite visible in the way she walked and talked, and even the way she looked. Now, Janeway proved she was a little less than completely Human herself by how very calmly she was going about her business. If it had been Angela who had lost her lover, there would have been screaming, there would have been fainting, there would have been tears. Lots of tears. Buckets and buckets of tears. She had yet to see one shed by the captain, not even at the memorial service where most of the crew, particularly Neelix, had wept openly over the loss of Seven and B'Elanna.

And Chakotay.

Dear, sweet Chakotay. How Angela had cried over his loss at the service. That wonderful, wonderful man, with his endearing warmth and irresistible charm, snuffed out like a candle in the wind. Their relationship had only just begun. With an effort, she sniffed and blinked back the moisture in her eyes. He had been such a sweet man, kind, generous, caring ... and so handsome. Those strong shoulders, the broad chest, the dark eyes which twinkled with humor. The generous mouth which curled up at one corner when he was amused, and the tattoo above his eye crinkling from the humor that marked his gaze.

Angela took a breath and ran another sweep over the space. It had been so hard when they finally made the decision to give up and move on. She thought she would absolutely break down that first day when Tuvok stepped onto the bridge wearing the command red, and sat down in the first officer's chair beside the captain. Even now, two weeks later, it still jolted Angela to see him where she expected Chakotay to be. Nor was she the only one. Often, she would see Harry Kim look up from his new post and wince, or another of the bridge crew hesitate as they entered the command center and saw him. Only Janeway seemed unaffected by it and she appeared quite content to leave him completely in command of the bridge more and more as time passed.

The captain was spending a great deal of time in her ready room. Angela had only been in that hallowed room a couple of times and she had been awed by how nice it was. Gracious, feminine, elegant ... like the captain herself ... but cool, with blues and silvers dominating. Not much wonder Janeway had been attracted to Seven, Angela thought. The Borg had been all blue and silver herself with those implants and hair and eyes.

Angela shivered and made a few corrections to her board. She wondered how someone could claim to love someone and be so unaffected once they were gone. She would not presume to claim she loved Chakotay, yet his loss was a rip in her heart she was sure would never heal.

Dear, sweet, Chakotay.

Commander Tuvok sat in the first officer's chair on the bridge, and did his absolute Vulcan best not to feel uncomfortable, either in the uniform he was now wearing, or in the fact that he really wanted to be over at his old post at tactical where Lt. Kim now reigned. As he went over the crew manifest on the console next to his chair, Tuvok truly felt out of his depth.

He was not good with the crew, not the way Chakotay had been. He was not personable, or charming, or witty, and he was certainly not what one considered likable. Yet, it was now his responsibility to see that the crew were scheduled into the best possible places to insure the most efficient running of the ship, and that required he know more than just their capabilities and histories. He needed to know personalities, the way certain individuals interacted emotionally, and that was simply not his forte. In different circumstances, he would have asked the captain for help, since Janeway had been someone he had called his friend for quite some time, and her empathy and compassion made her brilliant at seeing where people worked best together.

But, these were not different circumstances, and when Tuvok looked into the captain's eyes lately, he no longer saw his friend. Instead, a stranger, cold and remote, looked out from a steel-grey gaze that held no hint of blue, no longer changed shades to lighten or brighten, no longer enjoyed life with all its demands and challenges. Now, they only endured it, merely existing from moment to moment. It was like looking into a fog, formless and fleeting. Nothingness.

He glanced toward the front of the bridge, noting the slumped way Tom Paris sat at his helm, listlessly guiding the ship through the region of sparce space they were currently traversing. Yet, despite the defeated way in which the young man went about his duties, Tuvok was actually more positive in his assessment of Paris. The young man was starting to show signs of recovery. Not many, but still readily apparent to the Doctor who was monitoring them closely. Tom was eating again, and getting most of his required rest, and a day ago, he had even been coerced by Jennifer Delaney into spectating a hover-ball match in which Lt. Kim was participating. The helmsman hadn't stayed long, not even to see how the match turned out, but just attending was an accomplishment, one to be noted.

No, Paris's grief had been obvious, and thoroughly involving to him, allowing him to begin the slow process of healing once the worst had been faced. Tuvok feared that would never happen with the captain. She had not even returned to her quarters, sleeping, if indeed, she slept at all, in her ready room. He, along with the Doctor, was beginning to become profoundly worried about her, yet helpless to do anything about it. Their attempts at communication on any subject other than ship's business were rebuffed promptly, and with overpowering firmness.

"Janeway to Tuvok. Please join me in my ready room."

"On my way," Tuvok said, and stood up, nodding at Kim who took the bridge.

Captain Janeway had a multitude of padds on her desk, mostly from engineering. Tuvok knew that Carey was a good engineer, and a fine officer, but he was no B'Elanna Torres, and Janeway had been forced to use her own formidable engineering skills to assist in that department. It kept her tremendously busy ... apparently too busy to eat, Tuvok noted with disapproval. Her cheekbones had become more defined, hollowed, and her skin had taken on a translucent quality, fragile and delicate.

Disturbing.

"Tuvok, I need you to go over the crew personnel reports for me," she instructed, not looking up. "I don't have time to finish them."

For a second he thought he caught a hint of something in her voice. Nothing really tangible, just the slightest possibility of some unfamiliar emotion that he should perhaps make note of.

"Captain," he said, accepting the padd she handed him. "Is there something I should know about these reports?"

She looked up then, and he felt a most un-Vulcan like chill as he read what was in her eyes, but she never allowed it to reach her face. "I was working on them when I missed Seven's birthday dinner," she said distantly, in a voice completely devoid of expression. It was an explanation, nothing more, and yet, it held everything. "She died knowing I didn't care enough to find out when her birthday was, let alone get her a present. Please see that they're completed by tomorrow."

"Indeed," he said, and somehow he understood, though Human emotion had never been anything he had managed to grasp with much understanding before. "Captain, I..."

But the moment was gone. "That will be all, Commander," she said, looking back down, resuming her work. "Dismissed."

Though he hesitated, there was really nothing more he could say, and finally, with a respectful dip of his head that he doubted she even saw, he left the ready room.

"So, you're a Borg."

It was a statement more than a question, and required correction. Seven raised an eyebrow as she regarded Captain Benjamin Sisko. He was a large, husky man with dark skin, and a smooth head devoid of any hair beyond his dark eyebrows and demonic goatee. He was polite and quiet in the way a predator is quiet prior to pouncing, and he emanated a sense of bearing that Seven was only too familiar with. She wondered if all Starfleet captains possessed it, that aura of command, of power being contained and channeled, ready to be utilized instantly? Or perhaps it was only the very best. After all, not everyone in the conference room radiated such a presence, though there were two more Humans wearing the four pips of captaincy, and one who actually wore the insignia of an Admiral. That individual certainly didn't possess it.

"I am no longer with the Collective," she explained coolly. "I was severed at Captain Kathryn Janeway's command more than a year ago. As I have already informed your underlings."

She felt Chakotay nudge her warningly, and realized she had probably used an inappropriate term. She tried not to be annoyed. If it hadn't been for the first officer's blundering in trying to acquire a ship, they wouldn't be here. She decided to ignore the commander.

Instead, she eyed Captain Sisko closely. There was something else here, another undercurrent that she struggled to identify. He loathed her. Not her personally, but what she represented. The Borg. She took a breath, aware that he was not the first to be agitated by her presence, and it was highly unlikely that he would be the last.

"Why didn't you come to us, to Starfleet, when you arrived?" Sisko asked, shifting his attention to Chakotay. The Voyager first officer, once more dressed in his uniform, which made a marked contrast to the uniforms being worn by the other officers present, shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Maybe we should have," he allowed. "However, I didn't know that Starfleet would act in our best interests."

"Allowing you to return to Voyager, you mean," the admiral interrupted. "Return to the Delta Quadrant."

"Yes," Chakotay said, staring at him and not backing down.

"Voyager is one of ours," the senior officer said coldly. "We look after our own. Who are you to doubt that?"

"The same ones who read your letter to your son," B'Elanna said suddenly, glaring at the admiral. "He's one of your 'own' and you told him to go to hell."

Seven raised a brow. That had been surprising. To discover that the somehow undistinguished man with the light hair and eyes was none other than Admiral Paris, Tom's father. There was a great deal more loathing going on here between him and Voyager's engineer, though Seven was uncertain as to what was prompting it.

Chakotay frowned and leaned over slightly. "I thought that letter was lost when the transmission went down," he said in a low voice.

"You don't think I'd give it to Tom, do you?" she snapped back. "You should have seen what that bastard wrote to him ... his own son."

Sisko raised a hand, apparently trying to get back to the point. "Where is the orb?" he asked.

Chakotay shook his head. "You know I can't tell you that," he said.

"That orb belongs to the Bajoran people," the woman behind Sisko spat, standing up angrily.

Major Kira Nerys was DS9's first officer, and the one who had initially tracked down the Voyager intruders. It was unfortunate that she had been a freedom fighter in the mode of the Maquis, with more years of fighting Cardassians during their occupation of Bajor than Chakotay and B'Elanna combined. Kira had no problem ferreting the Voyager crewmembers out, catching on to the fact that somebody on DS9 was up to something. The feisty Bajoran reminded Seven remarkably of Kathryn. Perhaps it was the reddish hair, or the sparking eyes, or maybe it was just the sheer, stubborn set to the jaw. In any event, though the major had been interrogating her for a few hours every day since her capture a week and a half ago, Seven rather liked her.

Chakotay took a breath. "I'm sorry," he said to the Bajoran with what seemed to be sincere regret. "I understand what it means spiritually to a people to have objects touched by your gods, but if I hand it over to you, we'll lose our only chance at getting back to Voyager. At getting back home."

"I still think this could be a Dominion trick," the Klingon grumbled suddenly, from the back of the room.

Lt. Commander Worf had been the ranking Starfleet officer on the station when the three had been captured, and when she had the opportunity, Seven watched him and B'Elanna snarl and spit at each other as they went through debriefings with all the high ranking Starfleet officers suddenly appearing on DS9. It had been a fascinating observation of Klingon culture in action, flavored of course, by the fact that B'Elanna was half Human, raised by a Klingon mother, while Worf was a full Klingon, raised by Humans. She wondered if it was some sort of mating ritual, or if they really didn't like each other. It was hard to tell with Klingons sometimes.

Seven eyed Sisko surreptitiously. It had been a relief when he had finally returned from wherever he had been. Something to do with the war effort, no doubt. Seven understood that he held a position of great influence in that area, probably because of DS9 and its proximity to the Gamma Quadrant wormhole. He was different than the rest here, stronger, more authoritative. Like Kathryn. Seven had overheard a bit of an argument between him and the admiral, who had wanted to take the three back to Earth immediately. Sisko refused, citing his authority on the station which apparently superseded any one else's, even Admiral Paris, though Seven wasn't sure how. There had also been mention of classified data being released prematurely. Seven wasn't entirely sure what that meant other than the fact that there were others arriving on DS9 even as they spoke. Others with a stake in Voyager's future.

"What about the Borg?"

Seven straightened, looking with interest at the third captain who just entered. He was flanked by two other men, a tall Human with dark hair and beard, and another, not Human, but in the shape of one, with golden skin and slick hair. These three she recognized immediately from her memories of the Collective. Their arrival electrified her.

"Locutus," she said, standing up abruptly. It was he. Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the starship Enterprise. His companions were Commander William Riker, and Commander Data. Historical, phenomenal beings, even to her.

Picard walked over to her and looked deep into her eyes. "You are no longer of the Collective?" he said. He was so much smaller than she would have imagined, slighter, with a gaze level with her own, but powerful ... so powerful. She knew what she was feeling must be awe.

"No," she responded promptly, and added. "Sir." Respectfully.

Chakotay and B'Elanna stared at her, frowns mirrored on each of their faces. They had never heard that formality come out of her mouth before. Seven could tell it disturbed them, but they did not understand and she had no words to tell them. This was Locutus, once a Borg, the one Janeway had held up as an example to the Collective to refuse being implanted with subdural transceivers. Just his memory alone had influenced the entire Collective opinion, changing their decision in an instant, and when Janeway had insisted on an intermediary, a go-between to act as a representative for the Borg, Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01 was activated for the position.

If it were not for Jean-Luc Picard, she would never have met Kathryn, would never have known of her, would never have ended up being taken from the Collective by her.

Would never have loved her ... or been loved by her.

Seven owed this individual everything.

She wished she had a way to explain this to him, had the words to tell him what he had done for her, but she didn't. Instead, she could only look at him with shining eyes of gratitude and respect, and an admiration that was completely out of character for her.

"What is it you require?" he asked, voice made uncertain by what he was sensing from her.

"I require returning to Voyager," she said.

"Why?" he said.

"It is my home," she amended. "My partner is there. I must return to her."

Picard blinked, rocked back on his heels slightly. "Your ... partner?" he repeated, as if unsure he had heard correctly.

Seven tilted her head. "Yes," she said. She considered him carefully. Perhaps he was unaware of what that entailed. Many of Voyager's crew seemed uncertain of what it meant when she and Janeway had announced their living together at one of Neelix's parties. She had felt obligated to enlighten them before Janeway managed to suggest another topic of conversation. "It is a stage of the Human courtship ritual. It means that we will copulate only with each other from now on."

Chakotay put his hand over his face to hide his grin while B'Elanna crossed her arms and snorted, not looking at them anymore. "Honestly, you can't take Seven anywhere," she muttered to Voyager's exec. "You never know what's going to come out of her mouth."

Clearly surprised, and completely at a loss to formulate any further questions, Picard cleared his throat as he moved away from her hastily. "It's my opinion that she is no longer linked to the Collective," he told the rest in an exceptionally dry tone. "Nor is she anything like Hugh or his associates. She is no longer Borg. I'm sure if you take samples of her DNA, you might even be able to discover who she was."

"Annika Hansen."

They all looked at her and she repeated quietly. "My name is Annika Hansen. My parents, who were scientists, and I were assimilated eighteen years ago."

Picard dipped his head briefly at her in acknowledgment, and looked back at the group of Starfleet brass. "I say we give them what they need," he instructed. "We can't bring Voyager home, but at least they deserve to get their people back, and whatever else we can send along to make their journey easier."

"What about the orb?" Kira insisted.

Sisko stood up and looked at her with an indefinable expression. "I will take full responsibility for this," he told her quietly. "Will that suffice?"

She eyed him rebelliously for a long moment before dropping her gaze. "Yes, Emissary," she said, in an odd tone. After a moment, she grinned impishly. "I get to tell Kai Winn though."

"Perhaps you shouldn't," he said and returned her smile. He looked at the rest. "I'm with Picard," he said. "Allow them to use the orb to return to Voyager."

The other two captains in the room seemed willing to go along with the consensus, which left Admiral Paris as the only dissenter. However, that rank gave him a formidable vote, or so it would seem to Seven. Contrary to Janeway's oft repeated complaints, Seven really did understand the chain of command. In her mind, Paris could destroy all they had accomplished this day.

"Fine, but after we find out more," Paris insisted. "They must be taken to Earth."

"Admiral Nechayev has granted me her authorization to act in this matter," Picard said at that moment, staring hard at him. "As Voyager's sector commander, she has the ultimate say on the ship's fate which means I do by proxy.  I have made my decision. Perhaps you should take it up with her."

To Seven, it seemed as if Paris blanched a little in fury, but he instantly backed down. Seven wondered if that had anything to do with something she had overheard in the previous weeks. Of Paris authorizing a mission that involved the Starfleet Academy Red Squadron and a ship named the Valiant, resulting in the death of Admiral Nechayev's niece who had been acting as first officer. Apparently, it had left Paris in a very tenuous position within Starfleet command.

"If that's your decision," Owen Paris said stiffly. "However, you're the one who will answer for it, and so will she."

"The Admiral has never had any problem answering for her actions," Picard said evenly. "Neither have I." The 'unlike some' was clearly implied in his voice if not actually spoken. He looked back at all of them once, then nodded. "Good journey," he wished them.

It was only after they had left that Seven realized neither Riker nor Data had spoken, and she was distinctly disappointed. Not only had the Collective interacted with them in the past, but Kathryn herself had a history with both officers which she had shared with her lover. Seven had wanted to speak with them, to let them know that Kathryn remembered them, and to find out if they remembered her. Seven corrected herself immediately. Of course they did, she admonished herself. No one could forget Janeway after having met her. It was impossible.

Suddenly weary, Seven sat down again and Chakotay leaned over, putting a hand on her forearm.

"That was nicely done, Seven," he said. "I guess you were right. We should have come to Starfleet in the beginning. It would have saved us a lot of time."

"That's right," Sisko said, sitting at the head of the conference table once more, having overheard the quiet words. Then, he smiled, and if it was not particularly pleasant, at least it was genuine. "Now, let's decide the best way to get you people home."

Dark. It was so dark ... and cold.

"Computer, raise temperature," Janeway ordered quietly.

"Unable to comply. Temperature is currently 23 degrees Celsius," the computer responded. "Regulation six three-nine prohibits wasteful expenditures of..."

"Understood," Janeway said without inflection, cutting it off.

She drew the blanket over her, and curled tighter into a ball, staring into the darkness. She supposed she should go to her quarters, but she wasn't ready for that, wasn't ready to be in the rooms where Seven had lived with her for such a short time. She hadn't visited astrometrics or cargo bay two either and maybe, just maybe, if she didn't go to either place, didn't see how very empty they were of the young woman's presence, she could pretend that in one of them, Seven was working, consumed by some new project or problem. Pretend that if she were to hail her on the communicator, the Borg's voice would be there, cool, dry, edged with that note of warmth that only Janeway could detect, informing the captain that she was occupied, and what was it that required Janeway to interrupt her at this time?

Of course, Kathryn didn't make the hail because there would be nothing on the other end, only a mild beep to indicate a failed connection, and that awful silence. If she were to be so foolish as to ask the computer Seven's location, as she had already done twice, unthinkingly, in those awful days immediately following the accident, it would tell her that Seven of Nine was no longer on board Voyager. If she pressed, it would recite what Stardate Seven had left the ship, and how long it had been since she'd been gone ... but never that she wasn't ever coming back. Not unless Janeway listed her as deceased in the logs which she hadn't yet managed to do. She had listed B'Elanna and Chakotay, attempted in some small way to say good-bye to them, but she refused to list Seven's official status. She just couldn't do it. Not yet. Because if she didn't, then she could still pretend.

For just a little while longer.

She huddled at one end of the couch in her ready room, logged off duty. Through the large windows, which dominated the room, the faint light from stars distorted through the warp field illuminated the room slightly, casting shadows amongst the furniture which were nothing but darker blobs in a morass of blackness.

She tried very hard not to think, to just let her mind float in the sea of misery, careful not to let it sink beneath the surface, certain that if it did, she would never be able to find it again. Despite her effort, she couldn't help but wonder how she continued to function. Was her training really that good, her desire to get her crew home stronger than anything else? Maybe it was. She didn't know what else could be allowing her to go on when all she really wanted to do was to sleep. To close her eyes, settle back and sink into the warmth of a slumber that if she were very lucky, would never release her.

She didn't, however. Instead, her body continued to do what it had to, her mind continued to analyze and solve problems, her voice continued to give orders to direct her crew, her hands continued to input data into computer consoles and padds. It was just her heart she could no longer find. That was gone, vanished, disappeared without a trace that it had ever existed.

Wasn't that to be expected? After all, she had experienced this before, while engaged to Justin Tighe. The young man had died along with her father, their ship sinking helplessly in beneath the ice cap of Tau Ceti in a test flight gone wrong as Janeway watched helplessly, unable to make the transporter work properly to save them both and in the end, saved neither. She had thought that nothing else in her life would ever be as bad as that, would ever wound her as deeply. She had been wrong.

Her healing from that great loss had been demonstrated by her engagement to Mark Johnson. Good old Hobbes, childhood friend, and the man she learned to love only to leave him behind in the Alpha Quadrant. Finally he moved on with his life, marrying another, and telling her in a letter that left her lost and alone, with nothing to hang onto in her life of self-imposed celibacy.

Until, improbably, impossibly, she had fallen in love with Seven, discovered desire and passion in the most unusual of places, with the most unique of personalities. Found a joy and tenderness in loving someone who matched her so perfectly in intelligence and strength of will, complementing each other in the most unexpected of ways. Wasn't the third time supposed to be lucky? she thought wildly, and an insane laughter bubbled within her that somehow, her indomitable will forced down, controlled and finally returned to the dark part of her, burying it deep.

"Don't think," she whispered over and over until the mantra took hold, letting her mind float once more. Quiet. Still.

Alone in the dark as the hours passed until the computer impassively brought up the lights and recited the time, heralding the dawn of another day for her to get through.

Somehow.

The news of Voyager's three crewmembers returning to the Alpha Quadrant had spread quickly, no doubt spurred on by the news story written by Jake Sisko, Benjamin's son and a budding journalist who had been Johnny-on-the-spot on DS9. The follow-up press release that the trio was planning to return to the Delta Quadrant, to Voyager, precipitated a virtual tidal wave of relatives, spouses, and friends, who risked the war to travel all the way to DS9, wanting to see them even when they didn't actually know them. It was enough that they served with the people they did know and love. There were even volunteers who wanted to join them in exile, make the trip with them to Voyager. Chakotay had a difficult time explaining that the ship's resources were already strained by a crew of 150 where the normal compliment was only supposed to be 141. It was somewhat ironic that of all the people on the ship who could have been magically transported to the Alpha Quadrant, these three held the least amount of connection to the Federation and Earth. B'Elanna didn't have any family left beyound an enstranged mother. Chakotay had only a single cousin who came all the way from Arizona to see him, and Seven, of course, could never remember being in the Federation in the first place.

Except her parents had been here, and there were ties. Unexpected ones.

Seven's head was swimming as she made her way back to the suite which had been allocated to the Voyager crewmembers, trying to assimilate the past few hours. She had been confused by Captain Sisko's satisfied expression as he had led her to the small conference room that contained two older couples who had stood up, staring at her with the most incredible expressions of astounded joy. Apparently he thought he was providing her with a memorable experience, but she had not known these people and did not understand why they were suddenly embracing her, patting her on the back, and telling her how very much she looked like her mother, and yes, wasn't that just the image of her father's nose?

Annika Hansen had been born on a colony just outside Federation space, and had never met any of her grandparents, her mind holding no memory of them whatsoever. Held really, very little memory of her parents themselves, or much of her first six years of life. She did remember her manners, however, instilled painfully by the Doctor and how Kathryn would expect her to behave in this situation. She did her very best, answering their questions as well as she could with what little she knew, listened politely as they babbled on and on about her mother and father and tried very hard not to run screaming from the room.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, and took entirely too long before she was finally able to escape, feeling absolutely exhausted. She was so weary of this, of meeting people she didn't know but acted as if she should, speaking to them as they pressed messages on her, letters to her crewmates in the Delta Quadrant, personal notes, so many that even her eidetic memory was overwhelmed, and her head aching. Voyager's crewmembers accepted all the mementos, written messages, every personal item these strangers insisted must go back, though how the trio were expected to fit them into the small runabout they had decided to use for their return, along with all the equipment and weapons B'Elanna had already chosen, seemed an impossible task to Seven.

She wanted it to stop. She wanted to leave this instant, and return to the space she knew, to transport on board Voyager and find the one person she loved, curl up in her arms, and never have to move again. She hoped that Kathryn would understand when she told her she never wanted to come back to the Alpha Quadrant.

Ever.

She missed Kathryn desperately, missed holding her at night, missed waking up next to her in the morning. She missed her steady calm, and her gentle explanations of things that were so confusing, especially in such a new and strange place. Always, Janeway had been but a touch of a comm badge away. Now, Seven was without that security and it created a space inside her she had never experienced before. Disturbing, unsettling ... frightening. It was loneliness, aching, terrible loneliness.

The suite was packed when she returned, a sea of Starfleet uniforms and civilian attire whose forceful conversations rose and fell like an inescapable wave of chaotic noise. Dismayed, Seven stared at the assemblage of visitors and curiosity seekers, wondering how she would ever be able to get to her room, where there, at least, she knew she could be alone. She made no note of how ironic it was that where once it had been her biggest fear, it was now her greatest desire.

There was a laugh that rose above the rumble of the crowd suddenly. An achingly familiar laugh, one throaty, feminine and deep, and with disbelief, Seven immediately forced her way through to where Chakotay sat with two women. He saw her coming and pointed her out to his companions who then turned to face her.

She knew them.

Seven had never met them of course, but Kathryn had shown her partner their images and told her about them many times as they snuggled lovingly in the dark, holding on to one another in the drowsy warmth of afterglow, special times when Kathryn would speak contentedly of her childhood, and what it was like growing up on Earth. The younger woman was Phoebe, of course, the free spirit, artist, painter, the little sister who had aggravated and teased and almost drove Kathryn to distraction more times than the captain cared to admit. The older, distinguished woman sitting straight and controlled could only be Gretchen Janeway, Kathryn's mother. Now they were looking at her and Seven felt shy and unsure, totally uncertain of her reception. Phoebe rose to her feet and swept across to her, her hair long, thick and curly and the most brilliant shade of dark red with level grey eyes, and the oh, so familiar cheekbones and chin.

"So you're Kathryn's significant other, huh?" she said, throwing her arms around Seven. "Well, welcome to the family."

Seven could only return the hug awkwardly, feeling pleased and embarrassed, and entirely overwhelmed.

"Phoebe, dear, you're scaring her," Gretchen admonished gently. She was statuesque and gracious, her curly brown hair now turned snow-white, with sapphire blue eyes and a smile that lit up the whole room. "May I suggest we retire to somewhere a little quieter?"

"My room," Seven offered hesitantly, and then found herself leading them to her quarters where the door shut off the noise so abruptly, it left her ears ringing. Phoebe perched on the bed while Gretchen sat gracefully in the room's only chair, leaving Seven to stand which, truthfully, she preferred anyway. She dredged up one of the Doctor's many social lessons, falling back on it as one of the few familiar things in her existence. "May I offer you some refreshment?"

"Oh, a cup of coffee would do wonders, luv," Phoebe said. She looked expectantly at Seven and then frowned as she hesitated.

"I do not drink coffee," Seven admitted. "Since Kathryn has on more than one occasion suggested that my attempts to replicate it are unsatisfactory, I think you would be better off with another choice." She brightened. "I am very good with water."

Phoebe stared at her blankly before suddenly bursting into laughter. "Oh boy, I bet you just about drive Kathryn crazy," she said, getting up to acquire her own refreshments. She shook her head, chuckling. "So tell me," she added as she replicated coffee for herself and tea for her mother. "How did you two meet anyway?"

"During Captain Janeway's negotiations with the Borg, she demanded an intermediary which required the Collective to activate me for that purpose," Seven responded promptly. "But she deceived the Borg, severed my link to the Collective, refused to return me despite my wishes, and forced me to become part of her crew."

The two women stared at her some more, and Seven thought she should probably get used to that expression. Phoebe promptly keyed the replicator one more time, programming a large slug of brandy to go into her coffee.

"Okay, sweetheart," she said, giving her mother the tea before returning to the bed and patting the spot beside her. "Come over here and start all over again from the beginning. Slowly."

"Very well," Seven agreed, taking a seat, gingerly. "It all started when the Borg, of which I had been a part of for eighteen years, invaded fluidic space and attempted to assimilate Species 8472..."

It was to be a very long night ... but quite an enjoyable one.

"You have to eat."

The Doctor stood in the ready room and stared down at the captain forbiddingly.

"That's an order, from the one person here who can give you one," he continued bitingly. "Unless you would rather I hook you up to a tube and feed you intravenously?"

"Fine," Janeway said without interest. She set aside her padds and picked up the fork, proceeding to consume the food from the tray he had placed in front of her. She ate without expression, mechanically, clearly not tasting any of it.

That, more than anything, absolutely terrified him, if indeed, a hologram could be terrified. He had come here expecting a fight, or at the least, a mild protest. Not this obedient acceptance of his wishes, though he had no doubt that if he wanted her to eat the next time, he would once again have to show up with a tray and repeat the order.

It was almost as if she were the hologram, flawed, damaged, requiring periodic updating in her programming to prevent her from degrading altogether and disappearing.

He sat down in the chair in front of her desk, looking at her with eyes dark with concern.

"Captain, you can't go on this way," he said.

She looked at him, chewing slowly for a moment before swallowing. "I appreciate your concern, Doctor," she responded distantly. "I'm fine."

"No," he said flatly. "You're not. You don't eat. You don't sleep. You just work." He hesitated. Then firming his jaw, he went on. "That won't bring back Seven."

"Doctor," she warned, and for an instant, he thought the fire might be back as her voice deepened, dropping to its lowest register, but the force of it never reached her eyes. The level grey gaze never changed, never altered.

"Just hear me out," he insisted, holding up his hand pleadingly. "I know you loved her. Certainly, she loved you, and she would be appalled at how you're handling her death. There is no question in my mind that if she were here, she would tell you that in a minute. Along with several digressions into just exactly why it would not be irrelevant for you to look after yourself."

"I'm sure she would," Janeway said, and the bleakness that shaded her face then would have broken his heart. If he had one. "But she's not here, is she, Doctor?"

Trapped, he groped around. Really, he would give anything if only he had been successful at incorporating the psychiatric sub-routines into his programming, or at least, knew a local ship's counselor he could call. He didn't know what to say to reach her, to shake her out of this terrible spiral she was in. Unfortunately, the only other two people who might have been able to, Chakotay and B'Elanna, were also dead.

"Captain," he said, falling back on the only thing he knew ... the truth. "I am programmed to heal, and I can't do that for you. I don't know how. But, we need you. The ship needs you. If you don't start taking better care of yourself, we're going to lose you, too ... and Voyager just can't survive that."

She lowered her head, conceding the point. "Very well, Doctor," she said. "Program a menu of supplements for me and arrange for the computer to remind me when to take them. I promise I will."

"And your sleeping?" he insisted.

She took a breath, let it out slowly. "You'll have to prescribe something," she admitted. "I'm unable to sleep on my own."

He frowned. It was far from what he wanted but he knew it was all he would get. Maybe, if he could get her eating again and sleeping regularly, and enough time passed, she would start to live again.

Because right now, this in no way could be considered living. "I'll see to it," he said stiffly and got up.

"Doctor," she said, before he transported his matrix back to sickbay. "Thank you for worrying about me."

He nodded, but he knew it was words only, without the heart behind them, just the captain speaking to reassure a crewmember who knew far too well to be reassured. He dissolved in a burst of sparkles and reformed in sickbay, wondering how it was possible for a hologram to feel this sick inside.

"That is when I threw the vase at her," Seven said, and raised an eyebrow as Phoebe lay on her side on the sofa, literally howling with laughter. The Borg then looked at Gretchen who was dabbing tears from her eyes, containing herself much better than her youngest daughter, but nonetheless, quite helpless with amusement herself.

"My dear," she said, somewhat breathlessly. "I have to admit, I was always concerned about Kathryn's choice in spouses. They always seemed to be too easygoing to balance her personality, but I'm truly gratified I have this opportunity to meet you. I know that you'll keep my daughter well occupied for the rest of her life."

"That is my intention," Seven allowed, pleased at Gretchen's assessment. "I will admit, however, hers is a difficult personality to adapt to."

"Boy, you can say that again," Phoebe chortled, sitting up, hair disarrayed.

Seven frowned. "Why would I?" she asked.

Realizing immediately from the chuckles that she had somehow made a faux pas again. Not that she minded with these women. She had come to adore them, these beings who shared Kathryn's genetic makeup, and so much more than that; they possessed her fire, her passion, and her good humor, though perhaps not her reserve. Possibly because they were not Starfleet. Their acceptance had offered Seven a sanctuary in this strange place, had helped ease her loneliness and soothe her fear. With them, she felt closer to Kathryn, and though she still missed her partner terribly, she was better able to handle the separation from her. Seven had found it so easy to speak with these women, to share all she was and all she felt for Kathryn, knowing that her partner would not mind since these people were family. They would be hers as well, the Borg thought with a dazed pleasure, assuming her courtship with Janeway proceeded to the eventual outcome of marriage. Phoebe would be her sister-in-law, Gretchen, her mother-in-law. That, more than anything else, made Seven realize that somehow, she would find a way for Voyager to return home within the next few years ... for no other reason than so she could spend time with these wonderful people again.

However, there was no more time right now because there was a chirp from a communicator, a reminder that Seven had other places to be. Sadly, she stood up and reached out her hands.

"It is time," she said. "I must go."

Their humor disappeared in an instant, and they stood up as well, bypassing her hands and enfolding her in a heartfelt embrace.

Gretchen rested her forehead on Seven's, so similar to the way Kathryn did it, and the Borg realized where the habit had originated. "You take care of yourself, Annika," she said softly as she held her one last time. "Take good care of Kathryn, as well."

"I will," Seven promised, her throat full and tight. "Always."

Then, Phoebe was hugging her too, tears running down her face. "Don't take too long out there in the Delta Quadrant, little sister," she said huskily. "I want you all back for my next exhibit."

"I will do my very best to make it so," Seven told her seriously.

Slowly, they released her from the three-way embrace, and retrieved two containers from the floor. Seven knew they contained gifts for Kathryn as she grasped them tightly. From Phoebe; there was ten kilos of Colombian Gold, the best coffee Earth had to offer, and specific instructions on how to make Phoebe's own special blend. Kathryn's sister had practiced the brewing techniques with Seven until finally, the artist swore one couldn't tell Seven's coffee from her own, a great compliment indeed. From Gretchen; five kilos of caramel brownies, individually sealed in stasis so that they would be as fresh as when she took them from the oven. Seven had tried them, and found she liked them very much, though the recipe Gretchen had offered seemed less likely to be successful when Seven attempted it. She promised Janeway's mother she would try once the brownies ran out, however, as well as the other recipes the woman was sending with the Borg.

Seven turned abruptly, not wanting them to see her cry, yet knowing full well they did, hating to have to leave them behind in the suite. She sealed in her heart the last sight of them standing there watching her go, and wished with all her might that she would indeed see them again ... and that Kathryn would be with her when she did.

Chakotay and B'Elanna were waiting in the corridor. The first officer was holding the clarinet that Harry Kim's parents had personally given him while B'Elanna hefted a toolkit with the most up-to-date tools Starfleet had to offer, pressed upon her by the station's operations chief, Miles O'Brien. Both of them tried very hard not to notice the tears in Seven's eyes, and without speaking, all three walked to Landing Pad C where the Runabout Mississippi, awaited them. It was tweaked and enhanced with all B'Elanna and Seven could manage, with engines capable of warp seven and weaponry which had advanced far beyond Voyager's, a rather fortunate ... or unfortunate, depending on one's view .... side effect of the war. It was small, and stuffed to the brim with everything they could think of, plus a few things they hadn't. They had even filled the transporter buffers with patterns from a multitude of equipment, waiting to be materialized once they returned.

They were not yet done with the good-byes, however. In addition to Sisko, Kira and the rest of DS9's command crew standing formally by the runabout, Admiral Paris had made a reappearance. He stared evenly at B'Elanna who stopped in front of him, regarding him challengingly while Chakotay and Seven stored their packages in the ship before returning to the deck for the final farewell.

"I want you to tell Tom that if he has really managed to get his act together, then I'll be glad to welcome him back into the family," he told her stiffly. "Just between you and me, I might even be able to get him back in Starfleet ... provided he can keep his nose clean."

"Oh, I'll tell him," B'Elanna said pleasantly and handed her toolkit to Chakotay who was suddenly looking at her with alarm. "In the meantime, just between you and me, here's a little token to remember me by."

She decked the admiral, sending him careening across the hangar where he slammed into another runabout, and slumped to the floor plates. The rest of them all stared in varying degrees of dismay, horror and respect as she strode with Klingon dignity to the runabout.

"Well," Sisko said, clearing his throat, shaking Chakotay's hand hastily, and pushing him toward the runabout. "Thank god it's a war and those things happen. Good-bye, good luck, and please, next time you're in the neighborhood, don't stop by."

"We won't," Chakotay said, dazed as he and Seven followed B'Elanna into the small ship.

"Do you know what the problem is with Lt. Torres?" Seven confided to him as they strapped in and prepared to lift off. "You just cannot take her anywhere."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow as the ship was rocked by another strike from the Hirogen vessel. The unexpected attack came as Voyager entered a particularly empty area of space, devoid of stars. Beside him, Captain Janeway regarded the viewscreen with furious intent, hands firm on her command chair, the red glare from the bridge lights coloring her face oddly.

"Evasive maneuvers," she said crisply.

Tom threw the ship into a complicated series of navigational ploys designed to throw off the pesky nomad hunters who were determined to take Voyager as a trophy, and bring the alien vessels within range of the Federation ship's phaser banks. The two Hirogen vessels were something they could fight. A pack of six or so would be a much bigger problem and Voyager wanted to finish this before any others made an appearance. Another shot penetrated the shields, staggering Voyager, and sending the ship heeling over.

"Damage reports coming in," Tuvok said impassively. "No casualties. Minor hull damage to decks fourteen and fifteen."

"The second Hirogen vessel is coming around again," Harry warned from tactical, trying to track it as it began its strafing run. "They're trying to bracket us."

"Fire at will," Janeway instructed. "Load torpedo bays. Fill up the lanes, keep them off us. Tom, try to get clear to go to warp. We'll make an attempt at outrunning them."

"Sensors indicate the approach of a third ship," Nicoletti said, hands moving quickly over her console.

None of the rest of the bridge crew who were intent on the fore viewscreen noticed the odd expression that suddenly came over the young woman's face, or how she abruptly looked up before returning her eyes to her board, then looked back at the bridge crew and returned to the board yet again ... trying very hard to figure out a way to inform them as to what her data was impossibly insisting on telling her. Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. Finally, the stretch of no further information brought Janeway to her feet, and the captain turned to look at the young operations officer with annoyance.

"Report, Nicoletti," she snapped. "Is it another Hirogen vessel?"

"No ma'am," Nicoletti said, swallowing hard. She took a breath. "It's the runabout Mississippi out of Deep Space 9, Commander Chakotay in command. Message reads, 'Hang on, we're coming.'"

Stunned silence. Nicoletti raised her eyes to see her captain's face turn completely white, her body swaying, and for one horrible moment, the young officer thought she might actually see Janeway faint. Somehow, the captain stayed conscious, though not on her feet, groping for her chair blindly and collapsing into it rather than sitting down. Tuvok immediately rose from his first officer position, taking control with cool detachment.

"Mr. Paris, maintain evasive maneuvers," he said, the whip of command touching his voice reining in Tom who had half turned in his seat, his mouth working, but no sound coming out. The Vulcan shot a firmer look at Harry who was staring back, completely frozen. "Confirm."

Prodded by the tone, Lt. Kim forced himself to access tactical. "Confirmed," he said, and had to swallow to keep his voice from squeaking. "Warp signature is Starfleet. Three lifeforms. One Human. One Klingon/Human. One Borg-enhanced Human."

They all turned to watch the viewscreen as the small ship darted towards the nearest Hirogen ship that had obviously detected its arrival, turning toward it with deadly intent. If there was any hesitation on the Hirogen's part about considering something so small to be worthy prey, it was quickly dissipated as phaser fire erupted from the runabout and burned through the Hirogen shields with devastating precision, cutting through the thick hull like a can opener and ripping a hole down the entire length of the vessel. Disabled, the vessel staggered away, and the second Hirogen broke off its attack of Voyager to face this apparently greater threat. Tom brought Voyager to a stationary position as he watched the screen before him with hungry eyes.

The Hirogen vessel fired on the runabout, but the shields on the small ship were obviously superior to Voyager's, and the Mississippi shook off the blasts easily before firing back, managing a direct hit on the enemy vessel's warp engines. The resulting explosion radiated a shock wave that caught both Federation vessels, tossing them aside like child's toys.

Tuvok picked himself up off the deck, and darted a quick glance at Janeway who had remained in her seat, appearing to be in a state of shock as she clutched the chair's arms in a grip that threatened to rip them from their metal bracings.

"Report," he said, settling back into the first officer's chair, though apparently, it wouldn't be his for much longer. If he derived a certain amount of satisfaction from that, he tried hard not to show it.

"Hirogen vessel is destroyed," Nicoletti said. "The other is moving off at impulse. They've sustained heavy damage. The Mississippi has taken up a position off our port bow. They're hailing us."

"On screen." It was Janeway, and her voice was a mere croak, but at least she was still capable of giving orders. It eased the tension on the bridge somewhat ... but only marginally.

The screen cleared to show Commander Chakotay and Lt. Torres. They were dressed in Starfleet uniforms, but different from the ones worn by the bridge crew of Voyager. The band across the shoulders was blue-gray and the material seemed thicker, the turtlenecks beneath showing the color of their departments, red for command, gold for engineering. Beyond them, they could see Seven of Nine at another console near the rear of the cockpit. She was wearing her traditional brown mesh outfit.

"Hello, Captain," Chakotay said with a wide smile. "Sorry to be a little late, but we took a little side trip to the Alpha Quadrant to pick up some supplies. Permission to land the Mississippi in hangar bay one?"

"A moment, Commander," Tuvok said, after glancing at Janeway who was staring at the screen, apparently speechless. "You say you were in the Alpha Quadrant? We saw the Franklin destroyed three months ago. We assumed you were dead."

"Dead?" B'Elanna leaned forward, then exchanged a shocked look with Chakotay. "No, the Bajoran orb we found transported us to Deep Space 9. Starfleet arranged for us to bring back supplies since we were planning to return anyway. Didn't the sensors pick up our transport?"

"They did not," Tuvok said, raising his brow at the story.

"Why did you come back?"

Janeway stood up then, and looked at them, her voice harsh as she asked the question. From the expressions on their faces, they were even more shocked at the appearance of the captain than they were to discover they had been presumed dead. In the background, Seven rose to her feet and moved closer to the helm, staring at Janeway as if mesmerized.

"Because we had to return," the Borg said softly. "Because Voyager is our home. Because you are here. I would rather be lost in the Delta Quadrant with you, than anywhere else in the universe without you."

B'Elanna cleared her throat. "Actually, Captain, the truth is," she said, searching for words, "we didn't feel right being there with all of you still here. So when we found out the orb only had enough power left for one more transfer, we decided to return. But not empty handed." She grinned suddenly and reached down out of the screen's view, pulling up a long, thin tube of sorts, black with gold buttons. "Your parents sent your clarinet, Harry. We've got mail, equipment upgrades, parts ... just about everything we could find room for."

Janeway looked at Tuvok. She wanted to believe. He could see it in her face, saw it in every fibre of her being, but she also didn't dare. He understood that as well, and with the instinct that their very long friendship afforded him, he realized she was leaving it all up to him, allowing his ability to be detached and logical about this most emotional situation to make this decision for her. He turned to the screen.

"Commander, as you must realize, we are required to take certain precautions," he explained smoothly. "Please stand by. I will send the Doctor over to check you out."

"Precautions?" B'Elanna yelped, leaning forward, but Chakotay, his face somber, put a restraining hand on her arm.

"I understand," he said. "We'll wait for the Doctor here. Mississippi out."

The screen flickered back to the black starfield, and the small form of the runabout drifting idle at station-keeping.

"Bridge to sickbay," Tuvok said, touching his comm badge.

"Sickbay here," was the Doctor's acerbic tone. "Have you finished shaking us around like a puppy dog with a toy, or are you just preparing us for more to come?"

"The Hirogen attack has been terminated," Tuvok answered shortly. "In the meantime, you are required to go on an away mission. We need you to beam over to a vessel off our bow and run medical scans on the three lifeforms there."

"Indeed," the Doctor said. "What exactly am I looking for?"

The Vulcan took a breath. "We need you to tell us if Commander Chakotay, Lt. Torres and Seven of Nine are on board the vessel ... or if this is a trick of some sort."

There was a pause, definite in its intent. "Excuse me?"

"I will meet you in transporter room one and explain further," Tuvok said. He nodded at Janeway and headed for the turbolift.

Janeway found herself exchanging looks with Paris. She suspected she had the same dazed expression of uncomprehending hope on her face as he did.

"Do you think it's them?" he asked, voice hushed.

"I don't know," she said.

Her eyes went back to the screen. "I just don't know," she repeated in a whisper.

"What the hell are they doing?" B'Elanna said, waving her hands for emphasis.

"Didn't you hear them?" Chakotay said, voice serious. "They thought we were dead. For three months they've been operating on the belief that we died in the shuttle explosion. They had no hint that we had been transported somewhere else."

B'Elanna finally let that sink in. "Oh," she said in a small voice.

Seven had not moved, still standing between them, fingertips resting on the screen where Janeway's face had last appeared, now showing Voyager hanging in space, though a quick glance through the fore windows would show the real thing looming over them like a stern mother over a disobedient child.

"She is in pain," she said with wondering, disturbed eyes.

Startled, B'Elanna looked at her, then nodded, taking a breath. "Yeah, the captain didn't look good, did she?" she noted quietly. She frowned. "Tom looked all right though." She crossed her arms over her chest and assumed a grim expression.

"I noticed Tuvok is now the first officer," Chakotay said. He leaned back in his seat, shaking his head slightly. "They moved on without us."

The thin whine of the transporter caught their attention, and they all stood up as the Doctor appeared in the cockpit. He looked them over and offered his tight little smile. "Hmm, you all look rather lively for corpses," he said, pulling out his medical tricorder and scanning them. "Next time, leave a forwarding address, why don't you?"

"We are who we say we are," B'Elanna said with annoyance.

"Well, your DNA and bio-readings match," he allowed, intently studying the data being brought up on his tricorder. He eyed them briefly. "The uniforms are like the ones worn by the Starfleet personnel I encountered on my brief trip to the Alpha Quadrant." He shrugged. "I believe you."

Chakotay took a breath. "That's good," he said. "Now can you tell them? We've been stuck in this runabout for a week, and the quarters are starting to get a little close."

The Doctor sniffed pointedly. "I can tell," he said, and touched his badge. "Doctor to Voyager. One to beam over." He promptly disappeared in a burst of sparkles.

B'Elanna looked down at her uniform, lifted her arm and sniffed delicately. "He's got some nerve," she said in disgust. She sighed. "Tell me again why we wanted to come back?"

Seven raised her head. "Because, this is our home," she said.

The conference room was full. Seven could not sit next to Janeway ... Tuvok and Chakotay had taken the chairs on either side of the captain ... so instead, she chose to sit at the farthest end of the table. That allowed her to see Janeway clearly as Chakotay and B'Elanna briefed the command crew on everything that had happened to them in the last three months during their incursion to the Alpha Quadrant.

Occasionally, the Borg would be compelled to clarify a point here or there, but for the most part, she was content to let the other two talk while she studied Janeway closely, dismayed at the physical changes that had occurred in her absence. Kathryn was so thin, almost fragile, and her face had developed distinct hollows, her eyes dark and deep. Her uniform hung on her rather than was worn by her, and her hands ... those lovely, elegant long-fingered hands ... were folded before her, tense and tight, the knuckles seeming unusually large. Her hair lacked its normal glossy softness, appearing thin and brittle beneath the harsh lights of the conference room, and her skin was without the delicate rosy tint she normally enjoyed.

Swallowing hard against the lump that rose in her throat, Seven glanced around, looking at the other people in the room. Susan Nicoletti, she realized, now held Harry's position, and Harry had taken over as tactical officer. Nicoletti looked a little lost, unsure, not certain if she belonged here anymore. Harry meanwhile, wore the extra pip of a junior lieutenant proudly, and she hoped he wouldn't be forced to give it up when people resumed their former positions.

Tom sat next to B'Elanna, reaching over to touch her arm or shoulder occasionally, as if to reassure himself that she was really there, that she actually existed. When that happened, the Klingon would glance back at him and smile before returning to the narrative occupying her attention. Lt. Carey, sitting across from them, was wearing an expression of profound relief on his face. He looked as if he hadn't been getting much sleep lately. The Doctor was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, appearing totally relaxed, as if sure that now, finally, everything was going to be all right. Seven wondered what made him so certain, or if he merely wanted to believe it.

Neelix was the only one from the senior staff missing. He was joyfully occupied in his kitchen, busily preparing huge amounts of food in anticipation of the celebration. A party had hastily been organized once the news that the three Voyager crewmembers, once thought dead, had returned hale and hearty, and bearing lots and lots of gifts. Seven wondered if he had a fattened calf,  and then frowned as she wondered where that thought had come from.

She looked once more at Janeway, startled when she saw the captain looking back. For a brief moment, Seven drank her in, absorbing that gaze into herself as the patched earth receives the rain soaking in after a drought. Then, Janeway had to look away, returning her attention to Chakotay as he told of all the family and friends who had made the trek to DS9, wanting to reach out and hoping somehow that the three would be able to convey their love and good wishes once they returned. He looked strange in his uniform, the different styles more striking here, both he and B'Elanna standing out in the crowd of reds, blues and golds.

Seven had not changed in appearance though she certainly had inside. Kathryn's family had accepted her ... loved her. Even if Annika Hansen never managed to make a connection with her own blood relatives, she now knew she had a place in the Alpha Quadrant. A home. The thought of returning there no longer frightened her or made her apprehensive, and instead, she vowed to work harder on adapting the Borg transwarp, or slipstream technology to Voyager's own. If it were at all possible for them to use any of it to get home faster, she would find a way.

"So, Captain," Chakotay said, smiling a little. "I know it's asking a bit much, but I don't suppose I could get my old job back?"

"I look forward to turning the duties back over to you," Tuvok said quickly, before she could answer, causing a laugh and even inspiring a bit of a smile, wan though it was, from the captain.

"Why, Tuvok," she said. "Didn't you like working for me?"

The laugh that generated was much louder, louder than it perhaps should have been, and Seven realized suddenly that they had all been worried about the captain. This must be the first sort of humor she had shown for some time. Not like Kathryn at all.

"The engine room's all yours, Torres," Carey said. "Now, maybe I can get some shuteye."

B'Elanna eyed him with a big smile. "C'mon Carey, don't tell me you blew your big chance," she said. "You were the one who wanted the job in the first place."

"I changed my mind," he countered. "Who needs the headaches ... or the wrinkles it inspires."

B'Elanna's head went back a little at that. "Wrinkles? If I figure out that was some sort of insult," she warned, but she was laughing and so was everyone else.

The mood was lightening, almost a tangible force that brightened eyes, curved lips into grins, and lifted shoulders that had been slumped without the bearers being aware of it. The entity formed by the crew began to relax, to understand that the part of it ripped away was now healed, making it whole once more. Even Janeway, to a certain extent, appeared livelier, though Seven could tell she was far from her normal self. Perhaps she needed to speak with the Doctor and find out exactly how bad this was.

The captain looked around. "I want everyone to know that even though our lost family members will be resuming their duties, I promise, no one will lose what was gained." She favored Harry with a small smile. "I guess that means you're still a lieutenant, Harry."

He grinned back, eyes bright though whether it was from her promise or the smile he had received, Seven couldn't tell.

"In the meantime," the captain went on, "I understand Neelix is preparing a welcome home dinner. I wouldn't want to keep him waiting." She looked at them all with a commanding, yet fond gaze. "Dismissed."

With a surge of happy chatter, and laughter, they got up and left the room. All except Janeway who moved over to the large windows behind her chair, looking out onto the streaks of light, the stars distorted by Voyager's warpfield.

And Seven of Nine, who remained in her seat until the door shut behind the last of the crew, leaving her and the captain alone. She got up and moved over to Kathryn, reaching out to put her hand on the slender shoulder.

"Don't." The voice was raw, graveled, unbelievably bleak.

Startled and hurt, Seven dropped her hand to her side, looking at Janeway with wide eyes. The smaller woman never took her eyes off the starfield, never looked at her. She was breathing slowly, deliberately, and Seven noticed suddenly that the elegant hands resting on the wide lip of the plexiglass hull frame were digging fingertips into the unyielding metal, white as the blood was forced from them, almost on the verge of splintering her nails.

"I can't do this now," Janeway said tightly. "Because if you touch me." She took a breath. "I'll fall apart." And another. "I can't afford to fall apart." And another. "Not yet."

Seven raised her head, examined Janeway closely as the meaning of that became clear to her. "All right," she replied quietly. "Do you wish for me to wait in our quarters?"

"No," Janeway instructed firmly, shaking her head slightly. "We have to go to the party. Make an appearance. The crew requires it. Then we can ... leave."

Seven did not quite understand the reasoning behind that, but it was what Kathryn wanted ... and it was what she needed. That was all Seven had to know.

"I will comply," she answered softly.

Janeway closed her eyes, beginning to tremble, and Seven needed every bit of discipline she had not to disobey Janeway's order. She knew she had to obey. This time, more than any other in her life, she had to respect this one command. She understood that with an instinct that went beyond intelligence or knowledge.

"Let's go to the party," Janeway said finally, regaining her composure.

"Agreed," Seven said, standing close but never touching the captain.

Together, they left the conference room.

Janeway looked at the glass she was holding, unsure of what was in it but wishing fervently that it was alcohol. A nice stiff whiskey or brandy, anything that might take the chill off. She had no idea why she was still so cold, no idea why this chunk of ice remained inside her, filling her with a bleakness so deep it was as if space itself had taken up residence within her. What if that was all that was left? The love, the passion, the warmth ... what if that was gone, and all that was left was this bitter, bitter cold?

She forced herself to take a sip from her drink, finding it tasteless and bland, and with a frightened tremor, she glanced around. The mood was festive, excited, with the lost Voyager trio surrounded by people who wanted to hear all about the Alpha Quadrant, what had happened, who they had spoken with, and what had been going on the past five years. The captain had no doubt that the ship would be living off this little adventure for weeks, if not months. She found herself staring at Seven who was standing next to the Doctor and Tuvok, talking with them intently. Occasionally, they would glance at the captain covertly, then look away, and Janeway had little doubt what the topic of conversation was.

Her fingers tightened on her glass, painfully so. She couldn't take it any longer. It was too much ... too many people, too much noise, too much to think about. Too much to feel. She simply couldn't stay here. She drifted over to where Chakotay was standing with a large group, catching his eye. He excused himself for a moment, coming over to her and leaving B'Elanna to take up the slack in his absence. The two officers were working together very well, she noted idly, just as they had when they had first arrived on Voyager before time and respective duties had drawn them apart. For some reason, there was little call for the first officer and the chief engineer to mesh as a single unit. A shame in this case.

"Captain?" he said. "Enjoying the party?"

"I am," she lied gently. "But it's been a long day."

"I understand," he said, and she suspected he really did. "Why don't you turn in? B'Elanna and I have more than enough material to keep this party hopping."

She smiled then, wearily, and nodded gratefully. "Thanks," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Or maybe not?" he suggested gently. "You might want to take a few days off. Hey, I had my vacation. Maybe you should try one of your own?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I'll take that under advisement," she said softly. She put down her glass and slipped away from the party.

She walked into her quarters and stopped in her tracks as the lights came up to show the dinner table set with fine china, the coffee table next to the sofa loaded with brightly wrapped gifts. All covered with a fine layer of dust. Dear god, she had forgotten. The three days she had prepared and planned for Seven's homecoming. Well, Seven was finally home, albeit three months late, and Janeway had to take a breath, feeling a slight shifting within her as she walked into the bedroom where the bed was made up with silken sheets and several candles scattered around, unlit, waiting, empty. Cold.

She closed her eyes, standing at the foot of the bed, drawing in the air which held the faint trace of stale perfume that she had sprayed the morning she had made all her preparations. She could only imagine what would have been the result had she returned here at any time during the three months Seven had been gone.

Had been dead.

"Computer, where is Seven of Nine?" she asked suddenly, urgently, crossing her arms over her chest, holding onto her biceps, fingers tight as they dug into the flesh.

"Seven of Nine has exited hangar deck one," the voice said evenly, "and has now entered turbolift five."

Janeway didn't even wonder why Seven had returned to the hangar, only that Voyager had answered, had noted the Borg's presence. Had responded with a real location.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she asked again.

"Seven of Nine is in turbolift five, passing deck ten," the voice answered promptly. It did not matter to the ship how many times the question was asked. It would answer every time.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine," she said, head back, eyes closing as she hugged herself, feeling the chills go through her.

"Seven of Nine is on deck three, section one."

Janeway slowly inhaled, deeply, shivering.

"Computer, locate Seven of Nine."

"Seven of Nine is in her quarters."

She felt the presence which seemed to wrap itself around her, even from across the room. Slowly, she turned her head, opening her eyes to look through the open bedroom door, across the living area where the tall blonde woman stood just inside the entrance. She was so very alive and real, and only a few steps away. Janeway felt a trickle inside her as the ice abruptly cracked and shattered, melting to reveal her heart where it had always been, held frozen for just this moment.

"Annika," she whispered.

Seven carefully put the containers she was holding down on the floor and walked over to Janeway, stopping a mere breath away. Reaching up with her right hand to touch the captain's cheek with exquisite care, she cupped it in the warm palm, and the trickle inside Janeway suddenly became a torrent that raged and overflowed, hot tears forming and spilling over, sliding down her cheeks. Seven's other arm came around her, pulling her close, as her right hand slid around to the back of Janeway's head to tangle in her hair, pressing the captain's face into the soft comfort of the younger woman's neck and shoulder. Seven cradled and coddled her, drew her lovingly into the shelter of her embrace, and it was more than Janeway could bear, the sobs wracking her as she surrendered to the warmth surrounding her, shuddering as Seven held her close.

She listened to the soft words being whispered over and over in her ear, an affirmation, and a promise.

"I am right here, Kathryn. I will never leave you again."

Seven didn't know how much time had passed as she held Kathryn in her arms, trying to comprehend what her partner was experiencing. She had never seen Kathryn like this. Once, she had stood beneath the silvery illumination of two moons and saw tears slide down Janeway's face, and then again, one time in cargo bay one, she had seen her cry, but they had been dignified tears. Proud tears. Never had Seven witnessed this helpless, hopeless sobbing, never felt the desperate way Kathryn clung to her as if terrified, never saw her captain lose control as she did now. It scared Seven yet, at the same time, made her feel fiercely protective. She rubbed her cheek against Kathryn's temple, trying to wrap herself around the captain, and save her from all the pain and the hurt inside, yet knowing she could not.

Finally, after an immeasurable amount of time, the shudders slowed and stopped, the tears lessening and finally ceasing, though not the half sobs that shook Janeway now and again. Yet still, Seven held her tightly, not wanting to let her go, and it seemed that Kathryn did not want that either, continuing to cling to her, until finally, lifting her head from the Borg's shoulder, she looked up at Seven with eyes clouded thunder grey, dark and stormy, frightened and so alone.

Seven bent down, kissing Kathryn hard, and it was exactly the right thing to do as Janeway kissed her back, hungrily, making a sound in her throat unlike anything Seven had ever heard, one of fear and loneliness, of urgent need. Then the captain's hands were in the Borg's hair, clawing at it to loosen it from the bun, and then pulling at the back of her neck to release her outfit. Seven picked the captain up, carrying her to the bed, and pulling off the restraining clothing quickly to leave them naked and free, skin on skin, flesh against flesh. Warm, then hot, melting into each other with multitudes of little hurts, kisses that bruised, teeth that scraped and bit too hard, hands that moved too abruptly, that clutched too strongly, nails that scratched and dug in with desperate need. Yet, somehow, it was all right because each tiny pain was like reaffirming their existence, reminding them they were alive and that they existed in this moment of time meant only for them. If it wasn't particularly romantic, or tender, or even especially loving, then at least it was real and honest, and exactly what they both wanted and needed to prove that they were there and in each other's arms once more.

Afterward, they lay in a warm tangle of arms and legs and satin sheets, finding each hurt and smoothing over it with gentle lips and tender fingertips, looking at each other without words, kissing softly and sweetly, communicating on a level that defied explanation, and knowing that finally, truly, it was over and somehow they had made it through ... that they were exactly where they should be. Kathryn sighed, snuggling close and fell asleep for the first time in three months without the need of a sedative, just the steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, held possessively in Seven's arms. The Borg watched Kathryn sleep, stroking the auburn hair, brushing her lips over the smooth forehead now and again, aware that somehow, the relationship had changed in a way that was not necessarily better or worse than what they had before, but definite in its difference, and how they would face the future.

Together.

Janeway woke abruptly, confused at where she was, and what had happened. This was not the first time she had been roused this way throughout the night, jerking into startled consciousness with fear an acid taste in her throat before feeling Seven's body warm against her. The young woman had always been awake to gently stroke her, to murmur soothing words of love and comfort which lulled the captain back to her uneasy sleep. This time, however, Janeway found no one beside her, and she immediately sat up, gasping for breath as anxiety filled her.

It took a few seconds to realize the lights were up to signify morning watch, her heart racing as she scrambled out of bed to peer through the bedroom door to where Seven sat cross-legged in the center of the living area floor. The Borg was clad in that ridiculously brief robe she had insisted on purchasing in a market on a planet light years back, a silken bit of black material trimmed in white which Janeway always claimed was far too small for Seven ... but secretly adored because it showed the entire length of those lovely long legs, and looked so good with the blonde hair spilling over it to help conceal the expanse of cleavage it so proudly displayed. The young woman was surrounded by wrapping paper and presents, busily unwrapping the next one with an expression of sheer pleasure and unadulterated joy on her face, oblivious to the captain's panic.

Intensely relieved, Janeway reached over to the lounger where her robe lay, a much more sensible and modest pink terrycloth, covering the captain to her ankles as she pulled it on. She paused in the doorway where she watched the young woman with yearning eyes that unbeknownst to her were a most vivid blue, drinking in the vision of her lover that filled her with a warmth so deep, it left her aching.

"Good morning," she said softly, throatily.

Seven looked up with a wide, delighted smile. "These are all for me," she said, eyes sparkling. "My name was on them, and they are all from you. You did remember my birthday."

Janeway took a breath. She could've told her the truth that moment, could have explained how she had indeed forgotten. That all those gifts had been a pathetic attempt to make up for what she should never have missed in the first place. But the smile was too wide, the expression much too happy, and that had been the old Janeway anyway, so the captain smiled quietly and lovingly, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes.

"Do you like them?" she asked huskily.

"Oh yes," Seven said. "They are all so wonderful."

She looked over the assortment of booty she had received; jewelry and trinkets, and all sorts of other things that she did not really require because every crewmember was issued shampoo and other necessities as needed. These were special, however, because they weren't standard issue, specifically replicated and personalized with Janeway ruthlessly using command privilege to far exceed her replicator rations because, just this once, Seven was going to be more important than the ship. Seven had come to Voyager with nothing, and if anyone begrudged her these things, they could just bring it up with Janeway if they dared. And if the effort was three months late, it didn't really matter. In fact, considering all they had been through, it was so much better now than it would have been then.

Seven reached out a hand, and Janeway pushed off the doorframe to move over to her. Seven pulled her down to the floor in front of her so that Janeway was leaning back against her, the blonde's arms encircling her from behind to hug her tightly.

"Thank you," Seven whispered into her hair.

"You're more than welcome, my love," Janeway said, resting her head back against Seven's chest, enjoying the feel of the arms wrapped around her so much, the legs underneath her knees, the firm body pressed against her back. With a sigh of pure bliss, she snuggled into the warm embrace, beginning to feel whole once more as the raw edges inside her slowly healed under the younger woman's loving attention.

"I have something for you, too," Seven said. "Many things actually, but this one thing is the most important."

"You didn't have to do that," Janeway protested. "I have everything I could ever want, right here."

Seven kissed her temple. "I know, but you will enjoy it, nonetheless." She reached behind her on the floor, and brought forth a padd, not the traditional personal handheld version, but one of the larger, full screen units similar to the one Janeway had in her ready room. Seven rested it on the captain's lap, flipping it open and touching the controls.

"Hello Kathryn," Phoebe said from the screen, and Janeway felt her heart catch, her eyes flooding so quickly that she had to blink furiously to clear them.

"Oh, Annika," she whispered, reaching out and touching the screen, feeling Seven smile against her cheek.

"As you can see, I'm doing this on Deep Space 9," Phoebe went on, spreading her hands out to show the unmistakable angularity of Cardassian architecture behind the couch she was sitting on. "Mom and I came here as soon as we heard about your three crewmembers coming home." She grinned suddenly and it was that wild half-grin Janeway knew so well, and missed so much. "Of course, they weren't home, they were lost and ready to go back, but don't worry, we did get the chance to meet Seven of Nine, and tell her just how big a mistake she's making. Despite our best efforts, however, we couldn't quite manage to scare her off."

"She is being facetious," Seven explained gravely, and Janeway gave a laugh that was a half sob, putting a hand to her mouth.

Phoebe moved over on the couch a little, and Janeway caught her breath again as her mother came into the image, sitting down beside her youngest daughter and looking into the screen intently. "I hope you're taking care of yourself, Kathryn," Gretchen said gently, and it seemed her warmth and love reached right through the data stream as she smiled. "Of course, I suppose I don't have to worry so much, because I know Annika will take good care of you from now on."

"Yeah, we just adore her, Kathryn," Phoebe contributed. "She's a heck of a lot more interesting than the rest you brought home, even if she doesn't know what dogs are. How you managed to finally luck out, I'll never know. Of course, you did have to go all the way to the Delta Quadrant to find her. You'd better be nice to my little sister, Kathryn, or I'll go there myself, and kick your behind."

Gretchen put an admonishing hand on her daughter's knee to quell the teasing which to Kathryn, after so long, was like food to a starving woman. Janeway's mother looked directly into the screen, and it felt as if she was looking directly at the captain, directly into her soul. "Kathryn, we know you're doing your absolute best to bring your ship and your crew home as quickly as you can. Until we can be together again, just know that our hearts and thoughts are always with you. We miss you, Kathryn. We love you. Completely and forever."

Kathryn was silent as the screen went dark, her fingertips still resting on the screen, not sure what it was she was feeling at the moment, only that it seemed too much for her heart to hold.

"There are others," Seven said then, dropping several data chips onto the captain's lap. "Logs on all they have been doing the past five years, and what has been happening on Earth, but they wanted you to view that one first. They asked that I be with you when you played it."

Janeway tipped her head back so she could look into Seven's eyes. "You met them," she said wistfully.

"Yes, and was fortunate enough  to be able to spend a great deal of time with them while we were on the station," Seven said. She took a breath. "I also met my grandparents. Both sets. Two aunts, an uncle, and three cousins." She paused and shuddered a bit with delicate horror. "I like your family so much better."

Janeway smiled, closing her eyes and resting her temple against Seven's chin. "I guess there's a lot you still haven't told me about your visit to the Alpha Quadrant," she said.

"Yes," Seven agreed. "There is so much I must tell you. So many people I met and spoke with, so many things that I want to share with you."

"We have time, now," Janeway said, hugging Seven's arms against her. "All the time you need."

"No," Seven said. "Not this morning. This morning we will make love."

"That would be wonderful, as well." Janeway laughed softly.

"First, however, you will eat," Seven instructed, and was abruptly rising to her feet, pulling Janeway along with her.

Surprised, Janeway protested. "I don't..." she tried, as she was propelled to the table, which was still set from months before. "I'm not really hungry."

"Unacceptable," Seven said crisply, taking the dinner plate and a wineglass and carrying them over to the replicator where she programmed some instructions before returning.

Janeway looked at the two eggs, bacon, mound of hash browns and toast loaded on the plate placed before her with some dismay. "Darling," she said. "I can't eat all this."

"Try," Seven ordered sharply, and then softened. "What you cannot eat, I will finish. Nothing will be wasted."

Reluctantly, Janeway surrendered and picked up her fork, taking her first bite gingerly. To her surprise, it went down easily, and she took another and before she knew it, she was famished, plowing eagerly through the rest of it and washing it down with orange juice. As she ate, she watched Seven who stood at the captain's desk, intent on some unfathomable task which utilized unfamiliar equipment. Janeway idly enjoyed the way the short robe rode up over the blond's buttocks. Honestly, she thought fondly, that robe is really too small. Never once considering that it was designed that way. Then, an unmistakable aroma assaulted her nostrils, and with a dazed wonder, she watched Seven bring over a mug, the contents steaming slightly.

"Oh, Annika," she said, taking her first, ecstatic taste.

"Phoebe taught me to make it," Seven said as she returned to the replicator. "She made me promise to never reveal the secret, because you would then kill me and take it for yourself."

Janeway chuckled as she took another drink of the coffee, savoring the rich, smooth blend that was the absolute best she had ever tasted. "She was kidding," she said. "I could never manage to make it this well even knowing the secret. This is incredible."

Seven looked back, smiling that glowing smile over her shoulder. "I'm glad you like it," she said.

She returned to the table with stacks of blueberry pancakes, covered with syrup and Janeway did not even argue, sliding aside her now empty plate, and accepting the new one as Seven joined her in tackling the mound of food. Then, finally replete, Janeway leaned back in her chair sipping from a second cup of the wonderful brew, looking at her love across the table, and realizing suddenly that times like these had been too few and far between. To sit and have breakfast together, to spend a lazy morning in each other's company ... she had not just been denying Seven valuable lessons in Humanity, she had been denying herself these simple pleasures that were much too important to miss in life.

There would more of this, she vowed silently. More leisurely breakfasts, or walks in the holodeck, or taking moments to pause in the workday to look out at the stars just because they were there. She had been given far too many opportunities that she had failed to take advantage of. Had neglected small, but oh, so important things in her drive to return to the Alpha Quadrant, to get her ship home. She had been offered a wonderful gift, something she never had before ... a second chance. She would not waste it.

"Phoebe sent ten kilos of coffee back with me," Seven explained as she mopped up the last of the syrup from her plate with the last bite of pancake. Janeway had never seen the Borg eat so much. Apparently, she had advanced further in her Human physicality while in the Alpha Quadrant than the captain would have expected. "As well as some cuttings. She thinks if we can get them to grow, we will be producing our own beans within five years. I believe I can decrease that time."

"Many people have tried," Janeway offered gently, overwhelmed at the gift. "That's why it's so hard to get a decent cup of coffee in space."

"I am not many people," Seven said with assurance.

"No," Janeway allowed with a smile. "You aren't."

Seven dipped her head. "In any event, I have no intention of still being in the Delta Quadrant five years from now," she said with complete confidence. "I will find a way to return to the Federation sooner."

Janeway had no doubt she would succeed, because once Seven really set her mind to something ... it could almost be considered a guaranteed result.

Seven looked at her curiously. "Are you full?" she asked.

"Stuffed," Janeway said, patting her tummy. "That was wonderful, Seven. Thank you."

"You need to eat," Seven replied, and there was a hint of rebuke in her voice.

Janeway wondered exactly what the Doctor and Tuvok had told her. Well, she would deal with that later, or maybe she would let someone else take care of her for awhile. She regarded the young woman with loving eyes.

"There are other things I need, too," she said softly, sensuously.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I can fulfill all needs," she replied evenly, though the hint of humor in her eyes let Janeway know she was aware of what exactly was being referred to. "At all times."

"Now?" Janeway inquired hopefully.

"I believe so," Seven said.

Smiling, the Borg reached out to take her hand.

"I have to admit," Janeway said huskily as she tugged at the belt of Seven's robe. "I tease you about how small this is, but I really like it."

Seven looked down at her with a faint smile, hands resting lightly on the captain's elbows as they stood next to the bed which was still tousled from the night before. "I know," she said. "I have always known."

Surprised, Janeway stopped, looking up at her with that expression. The same one Seven had seen in a brig on a ship taking them back to Borg space when she had offered a joke to her captain as they attempted to escape. Startled, a little shy, but clearly pleased by what she had heard ... and deeply touched by the young woman's display of Humanity.

"You knew?"

"Yes," Seven responded. "Even when you complained it was too small, I was always aware that you enjoyed watching me in it. That is why I purchased it in the first place. I knew you would like it."

Janeway blushed, laughed and slid the robe from the blond's arms, dropping it onto the bottom of the bed. "I guess you know me better than I do," she said. She drew her fingers gently over Seven's neck and shoulders, leaning forward to kiss her breastbone. "I also enjoy watching you out of it too," she added slyly, glancing up through lowered lashes.

"I am aware of that as well," Seven said placidly. She removed the captain's robe, dropped it beside the black one, and pulled Kathryn into her arms, delighting in the feel of her body against hers, but disturbed at how thin it was, the way the ribs jutted beneath her exploring fingertips. The smaller woman seemed so fragile, so light in her embrace. She had not understood before that just as Janeway was necessary for Seven to function better, she, in turn, was necessary for the Voyager captain to function properly. It was a frightening, yet somewhat gratifying, realization.

"Though," Seven added casually, "I am aware that I am not aesthetically pleasing in form."

Janeway paused in her lip's gentle exploration of Seven's chest, looking up at her with startled eyes. "Is that what you think?" she asked.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I do understand that many see me as attractive, but they are deceived by the outfit which gives my body a pleasing shape while concealing the better part of my implants," she explained calmly. "You, discounting the Doctor, are the only one who has seen my body in its true form. I think many others would be revolted by the sight."

"Perhaps," Janeway said slowly, not really wanting to agree, but familiar enough with Human nature to know Seven was probably accurate to a certain degree. "That would make them fools."

Seven shook her head. "It is irrelevant what others think," she said, trying to clarify her meaning. "It is enough that you are not repulsed."

Janeway glanced down the abdominal mesh which framed the bottom of the full breasts before spreading around her back, almost to Seven's shoulder blades, noting the scarred and whitened flesh between each soft grey band. Then, she leaned forward and gently kissed the starburst shape imbedded just below the young woman's left collarbone.

"You are beautiful," she said softly. "Every bit of you. I absolutely adore looking at you, and touching you. Sometimes I feel I can never get enough of you."

Seven lowered her head, closing her eyes, feeling the pleasure Kathryn's words inspired spread through her. "I love you," she whispered. "I think I always have, from the first moment I saw you."

Janeway laughed softly. "I could debate that."

Seven thought a moment. "You are correct, it was an exaggeration on my part," she allowed with a bit of a smile. "However, I do know I always ... appreciated being in your presence, even when we disagreed. Sometimes I even challenged your opinions just so I would have your attention. I felt sometimes, that you were more cognizant of me when we 'butted heads', as you called it, than when I functioned as you expected. So I endeavored not to be ... as you expected."

The captain was looking at her once more, smiling her gentle smile as she continued to run loving fingertips over Seven's chest, along the swell of her breasts to her nipples, over her corseted midsection and hips, up her back to her shoulders then down her arms before retracing the path. It was pleasantly soothing, almost hypnotic, yet definitely arousing. Seven kept her head close to Kathryn's, holding her waist easily in her hands, breathing in the soft fragrance of her hair and the scent of her body, its warmth surrounding her as she quietly accepted the caresses.

"I admit," Janeway said thoughtfully as she continued to stroke her. "You were always intriguing to me. Even on the cube in the middle of the battle with Species 8472, I wanted to know more about you. I wanted to know how you thought, what you felt about everything that was happening, what you thought about me." She brushed her lips over Seven's chin, along her jaw. "There was just something about you that attracted me. The physical aspect was only part of it, and came much later."

Seven smiled again, something she realized she had been doing more and more as time passed. It was an instinctive reaction, she thought. A natural extension of all the pleasure and happiness this woman in her arms brought her. She carefully tightened her embrace and found the captain's mouth, kissing her sweetly, passionately. She did so enjoy kissing Kathryn, the feel of her lips and the way she responded. The taste of her inspired a hunger in Seven no mere nutritional supplement could ever hope to satisfy. The soft sound Kathryn made in the back of her throat, a contented purr, vibrated sensually within Seven to the very bone marrow.

She felt the captain pull away slightly, and she obediently released her, watching as the smaller woman crawled onto the bed, and stretched out on her back, reaching up a hand to draw Seven down beside her. Seven lay down on her side, propping her head in her left hand as she pressed warmly against Kathryn, leaving her right hand free to explore the body next to her which she did, slowly, with thorough intent even as Kathryn continued to stroke her with those elegant long fingers.

This was nothing like the night before. Then, it had been need, a desperate demand, more release than pleasure, and far from this slow, pleasant exploration to familiarize themselves with each other, as if it were all new and strange. Though in truth, the physical changes Kathryn had forced upon herself from not eating and sleeping, had altered her body in significant ways. Seven frowned, analyzing the differences in shape and texture with keen precision.

"You must never do this again," she instructed softly, looking down at her lover with dismay. "You must never harm yourself in this manner. You are too necessary for my well-being. You are too necessary for the function of the ship."

Janeway opened her mouth to answer, stopped, and thought about it. "I didn't mean to ... be so self destructive," she admitted finally. "It just hurt so much, Annika. I knew I had to keep working, but other things like eating and sleeping, I ... they weren't important anymore. I knew the Doctor and Tuvok were quite upset with me but it didn't seem to matter. I missed you so much." She looked up at her shyly. "Are you angry?"

"I am frightened," Seven corrected, kissing her. "I do not want to lose you."

"I thought I had lost you." Seven caught her breath as she heard the ragged note in the voice. "Forever. I didn't want to go on without you."

"You must always go on," Seven insisted, distraught. "Even if I am dead, you must do so. Promise me you will continue to function properly in that event."

"You must promise me the same," Kathryn responded promptly, and rather unfairly to Seven's mind.

"It is less important that I survive in your absence."

"It's not less important to me," the captain said sternly, capturing her in a fathomless blue gaze. Then she smiled. "If you don't promise to continue to function without me, then I can't promise you, either."

Seven took a breath. Somehow she had lost track of this argument, something that happened quite frequently with this woman. Then, Janeway chuckled and slid her arms around her neck, pulling her down for a long burning kiss.

"Let's not worry about this now," she whispered when they had finally parted. "You're exactly where you belong, here in my arms. I know I belong in yours. I'm certain you'll take excellent care of me from now on, my darling, and it'll be no time at all before I'm functioning properly again. And I swear I'll always take care of you."

Seven considered that for a moment. "Acceptable," she said, a bit reluctant because she knew tue captain was deliberately diverting her from the topic. Then she felt Kathryn's hands cover her breast, squeezing it gently as she rubbed over the nipple with the palm, and she was suddenly quite amenable to the change of subject. Startled, she looked down to see Kathryn regarding her with a raised brow, the corners of her mouth curled in a grin.

"Are we done talking about this?"

"I believe so," Seven allowed, a bit breathlessly. "What do you wish to talk about?"

Kathryn reached up and gently nipped Seven's chin. "About what I'm going to do to you," she said huskily. "About what you're going to do to me."

"I am going to do many things to you," Seven responded quietly as she ran her hand over Janeway's tummy in slow circles, steadily increasing in circumference until she was cupping the small fine breasts, using her fingers to tease the nubs into hardness. "Such as this. Is it acceptable?"

"Oh, very." Kathryn arched into the caress, encouraging her. "On the other hand, we don't have to talk at all."

"It is difficult," Seven allowed. "When one's mouth is otherwise occupied."

"In what way?" Janeway asked archly, then must have realized immediately, exactly which way as Seven covered the captain's other breast, swirling her tongue around to stimulate her nipple, flicking it gently. "Fine, I'll shut up now," she added happily, with a low, throaty laugh.

Seven smiled, her teeth raking gently over the soft skin that responded so sweetly to her. Kathryn always had to have the last word. Fortunately, she loved Kathryn's voice, the low huskiness of it, the way she could interweave so much meaning around simple words with just an inflection, a certain tone. Command, desire, compassion, anger ... yet the voice never rose, never grew louder. It was just a different emphasis placed on a word or two. A most fascinating skill, and one Seven wished she could emulate. Janeway could make people react in the most extreme ways just by the tone of her voice. Seven knew for a fact, that Kathryn's voice did the most wonderful things to her.

As did her hands which were caressing her with more intent now, more specific in their motion, seeking out those places that Kathryn knew were pleasing to her. Seven caught her breath as they stroked her body, distracting her, making her dizzy until finally, Seven captured the wrists in a gentle grip, raising them above Janeway's head and pinning them to the bed.

"Allow me," Seven requested, pressing down on Janeway with her entire body though careful not to allow her full mass weigh on her. It was an interesting display of physics, of gravity versus the various points of contact with the bed to support the heavier woman, and one Seven had become very adept at over the months. She especially did not want to grind any metallic part into Kathryn's now rather delicate physique. It was important that Kathryn feel the warmth of Seven's entire body against her, the delicious touch of skin on skin, but not be trapped by a suffocating force on top of her.

"Can't concentrate?" Janeway asked blandly, an impish look shading her eyes to blue.

"You make it difficult," Seven allowed. She took the opportunity to brush her lips over Kathryn's.

"I don't see how," the captain murmured innocently. "I'm just playing."

Seven smiled. They played together yes, but more often they competed. In the holodeck with games like Velocity or hoverball, in the astrometrics lab when the captain would attempt to arrive at a solution quicker than her Borg partner ... and frequently here, trying to see who could make the other loose control quicker. Even now she could feel Kathryn testing her grip, seeing how completely her wrists were captured. The captain's competitive fire was strong, and one that Seven admired greatly. It was part of what made her such an excellent captain, but it was not always something Seven appreciated here in the bedroom. Recently however, she had learned how to dampen that fire by using indirect, yet very effective methods. She began to kiss the captain, tenderly, gently, using her mouth with blissful intent, long moments of gentle rapture passing as Seven presented her appeal.

"Let me, Kathryn," Seven said softly, persuasively, between the long, slow, melting kisses. "Please, Kathryn ... I want to love you so much ... let me make love to you ... I want to love you ... .please, let me love you...." She felt Kathryn's resistance crumble before the irresistible assault on her senses.

Taking a deep breath, Janeway moaned as she gave in. "Annika," she whispered the request, a gentle plea rather than a command. "Make love to me, my darling. Please."

"I will, Kathryn," Seven promised without triumph, only gratitude. She continued to kiss her, so gently, passionately, tasting her, running her tongue over Kathryn's lips and teeth, touching against her tongue, teasing it, drawing it into her own mouth.

"You are such a great kisser," Kathryn noted in a low, pleased voice as Seven finally released her, trailing over her chin and along her jaw, seeking out the soft lobe of her ear, seizing it between her teeth.

"Mmmphh," Seven responded, not disagreeing necessarily but wanting Kathryn to know it was she who inspired her, who had taught her such a useful skill. From the soft chuckle, Seven knew she had got her meaning across. Somehow.

She gently explored Kathryn's ear, mesmerized by its delicate shell-like beauty, then moved along her neck, nuzzling its length to the shoulder and warm hollow of collarbone. Her teeth nibbled gently at the hard ridge, then her lips traced the gradual swell of breast, licking at the swollen, velvet-soft nipples, knowing how very erotic Kathryn found this, how much she enjoyed having her breasts attended to with such loving devotion. Seven spent a considerable amount of time lingering over the small, firm mounds before reluctantly moving away, down over the belly still rounded from the morning's repast, feeling the fine hairs scattered about the navel tickle her lips until they gave way to the longer, coarser thatch of auburn which Seven nestled her face in, taking the time to breathe deep Kathryn's intoxicating scent, the heavy muskiness of desire and need awaiting her.

Carefully, she drew her mouth down to the inner thigh, the heat of baby-smooth skin and the moisture gathering there, overflowing from a crease already separating, parted even more by Seven who gently opened Kathryn, penetrating with two fingers slowly, tenderly, welcomed by a secret embrace of silk-slick walls which clasped them intimately. She heard Kathryn's groan, felt her hips arch slowly against her, pulling her deeper inside, and she flexed her fingers, gratified at the instant response, the surge that ran through the beloved body.

Seven began to feast on Kathryn's ardor, tasting the rich flavor of her, so powerful, yet delicate, a complicated flavor, so much like the woman herself. Using her lips and tongue with precise skill, she coordinated her movements with those of her hand, drawing out Kathryn's pleasure slowly, gradually building it, then easing off before building it once more, higher, stronger, increasing it ever so slightly each time until finally, she knew it was time and she pressed sweetly on Kathryn's inner center, releasing her lover to the spasms which swept her up, carried her along on a tide of delight. She felt her lover's hands tangle in her hair, pressing her tighter against her, the helpless cries of joy filling Seven with such love and happiness that the young woman had to close her eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

Then, after making sure Kathryn was completely sated, Seven crawled up into her arms, into an embrace which enfolded her lovingly, to a mouth that eagerly welcomed her with a kiss so deep and pure, she thought she could probably die from it, but for the fact that she now knew how damaging that would be to this woman she so completely adored. She thought that no matter how vast the universe was, her destiny would always bring her here, to Kathryn, to her lover, her friend, her partner. Her captain.

Would always bring her home.

Epilogue

"I think you'll enjoy this program," Janeway told Seven as they left their quarters ... for the first time in three days.

Seven, dressed in her black outfit, silken like the first silver one, but less obtrusive in its design, nodded briefly. "I'm sure I will," she said, eyeing her gently. "Since it is the place you were raised."

The smaller woman rested her hand on the small of Seven's back, no longer concerned that it might not be entirely proper for the captain to be touching her astrometric's officer so affectionately in public. Janeway was truly looking forward to this. The holo-program of her home in Indiana was not one the captain had accessed since Voyager had been lost in the Delta Quadrant, too fearful that the feelings of longing and homesickness it would inspire would be far more than she could bear. However, with Seven's visit to the Alpha Quadrant, running the program was somehow acceptable to her now.

Now that Seven had met the Janeway family, interacted with them, and come to love them as they grew to love her, it seemed proper that together, she and the young woman could share this walk through the cornfields behind the house where Kathryn was raised. If it would be unwise to go into the house itself, which would echo with a sad emptiness, then it would still be enough just to walk hand-in-hand along a dusty county road beneath Earth's azure sky, and feel the breeze blowing amid the lush green corn stalks.

They exited the turbolift, heading for the holodeck on deck six when Lt. Tom Paris abruptly made an appearance in front of them, propelled across the hall from an open doorway of his quarters, into the bulkhead where he collided with an audible thump. As he attempted to peel himself off the metallic wall, several objects followed his impetuous flight path, impacting on the bulkhead and his body with indiscriminate aim.

"Ah," Seven observed calmly. "The intent is to actually hit your target. I did not realize."

Janeway had stopped dead, watching this with dismay, and not a little trepidation. On one hand, she expected her people to act with a certain dignity, even when off-duty, but clearly, this was a personal matter between two members of her crew, and did not concern her in the slightest. Other than the fact that both parties were her friends.

"B'Elanna ... please," Tom was saying as he cowered and ducked against the wall, not very successfully at times.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "He lacks your agility," she noted with professional regard.

"Damn you to hell, Tom Paris!" B'Elanna howled from somewhere inside her quarters. Both Janeway and Seven deemed it unwise to risk a glance inside the door to determine exactly where, since the articles flying from the room did not decrease in profusion. "How could you have sex with Jennifer Delaney?"

Janeway winced, and Seven raised her head in surprise.

"I'm sorry, B'Elanna, believe me," he begged. "It didn't mean anything. Besides, I thought you were dead."

"Is that like being on a break?" returned the snarl from within along with a metal dish, which ricocheted off Tom's head with a metallic twang.

"B'Elanna, please," Tom said. Both seemed unaware that they had an audience who were watching this with fascinated, if somewhat embarrassed, regard. "I'd rather die than hurt you."

"That can be arranged." The next thing that came through was a blade, a Klingon dagger that impaled itself into the bulkhead with a pointed force, vibrating a little in the shocked aftermath.

Tom's face paled, and finally, judging that discretion was the better part of valor, especially when an enraged chief engineer was concerned, he hastily made tracks for elsewhere, leaving the two women standing in contemplative silence amongst the scattered debris of a romance torn apart.

Gingerly, with prudent caution, Janeway eased herself around the lip of the door.

"B'Elanna," she said, ready to pull her head back instantly. "Are you all right?"

A heartfelt wail greeted her words, and with a regretful glance at Seven, who indicated by dipping her head that she understood the holodeck must wait for another day, Janeway disappeared into the quarters. The door slid firmly shut behind her, leaving Seven to survey the mess with a judicious eye.

Chakotay came around the corner, dressed for the holodeck, apparently drawn by the noise, and he stopped short, staring at Seven.

"What the hell is this about?" he asked.

"I believe that B'Elanna Torres and Tom Paris have terminated their relationship," Seven responded, trying to pry the knife from the bulkhead, and not finding it easy.

"Yeah?" Chakotay said, and the note of ... interest ... in his voice caught Seven's attention. She observed him surreptitiously as he helped her clean up the corridor.

"You have an opinion on this?" she asked.

Chakotay shrugged. "Well, you know, just between you and me, Seven, I think maybe this has been coming for awhile. B'Elanna needs someone a lot stronger in her life."

"Indeed," Seven said.

As he bore the shattered remains off to be recycled in the ship's disposal unit, she considered his words ... and wondered if the 'someone stronger' might be a certain first officer.

The End

•  This is the 4th in the Just Between series.

• To my beta readers who helped me with this prior to posting, my eternal appreciation.

• This installment occurs after the events in Hope and Fear, near the end of the fourth year of Voyager's journey, and was first posted in July, 1998.

Just Between Friends
G. L. Dartt

Lying on the deck of the astrometrics lab, arm fully extended as she groped under the console for the padd she had dropped, Janeway gradually became aware that she was no longer alone. She reversed the position of her head, getting a close up view of high-heeled boots covered with a brown, mesh-like material. With one eye, she peered up the six foot length of her astrometrics officer, over the incredible curvaceous body, and proud bosom, to the fine blonde features staring quizzically at her.

"Captain?" Seven of Nine raised her left eyebrow, thereby raising the metallic implant around it as well, a stark reminder, along with the star-shaped implant on her cheek, of her eighteen years as a drone in the Borg Collective.

"Seven," Janeway said, with appreciation, withdrawing her arm and rising to her knees. "I dropped my padd in behind the console. Can your longer arms reach it?"

"I will try," Seven allowed and gingerly lowered herself to the carpet, stretching out full length beside the kneeling Starfleet captain.

She reached in and from the way her muscles flexed in her shoulder, Janeway could tell she was having a bit of difficulty reaching it as well ... possibly because she was in the wrong area.

"No, further to the right, Seven," she instructed, and leaned over again, reaching across her back, trying to guide the young woman to the spot where she knew the padd had lodged itself.

At that moment, the door to the astrometrics lab hissed open, and Lt. Harry Kim, Voyager's young operations officer walked in, took one look at Seven  stretched out on the floor, with the captain lying on top of her, blanched, and made an immediate about-face.

"My apologies, Captain," he stammered, staring at the door he had just entered, back firmly turned to the two women lying on the floor. "I didn't know you and Seven were....uh..."

Janeway, her puckish humor piqued, turned and rested her elbows on the Borg's back as she reclined against her partner, who was now trapped between the captain and the console. "What, Lt. Kim?" Janeway asked in a dangerous voice. "Seven and I were ... what?"

"Uh...." he temporized like mad. "You don't owe me any explanations."

"Well, I'm glad we agree on that," Janeway said coldly, though her eyes were twinkling a bright blue. "However, I would like to give you one, Lt. Kim ... a detailed, explicit explanation."

A pause, as his back muscles visibly twitched through his tunic. She could only imagine his expression. "That really won't be necessary, Ma'am," he said weakly.

"I believe it is, Lieutenant," she said, trying not to snicker. She made the mistake of glancing down at Seven who was eyeing her tolerantly over her shoulder, and she had to bite her lip, holding back the laughter rising in her throat. With an effort, she managed to control the amusement in her voice. "Very well, Lieutenant. Seven is lying on her face to retrieve a padd I lost beneath the console, and I was attempting to direct her to exactly where it was."

"Uh, yes Ma'am," he said, clearly not believing her.

"I assure you, Mr. Kim," Seven said, wiggling out from under the captain and holding the padd aloft. "That is indeed what is occurring."

Tentatively, he glanced behind him, seeing the two women now sitting side-by-side, with Seven brandishing the padd. He blushed furiously and turned to face them. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to misconstrue your ... uh, the way you looked when I came in...." Flustered, he stopped completely.

Seven raised a brow. "I do not understand, Lt. Kim," she asked blandly. "Why would my attempting to retrieve a misplaced padd cause such discomfort to you?"

"Seven, I....." Defeated, he placed the stack of padds he was holding onto a nearby console and said in a rush, "Here'stheoperationsreportIpromisedyou. Youcanstartyournewcalibrationsonthesystems. TalktoyoulaterSeven." And fled.

Captain Kathryn Janeway collapsed to her side on the deck, and howled.

"Are you aware," Seven said, when Janeway had finally trickled off to a few less than dignified snorts, "that your sense of humor is something that B'Elanna Torres thinks is positively 'sadistic' at times? It is a trait she admires very much."

Janeway smiled widely at her, sitting back up and wrapping her arms around her knees. "My sense of humor?" she said, nudging her in the side with an elbow. "You helped. You knew very well what he was thinking."

"That we were initiating copulation," Seven agreed promptly. "Which was incorrect. That positioning would prohibit such an act."

Janeway leered at her gently. "Not necessarily," she said.

Seven eyed her uncertainly, then regarded her lover with affectionate forbearance when Janeway laughed again. "You are being facetious," she accused.

"Always," Kathryn said, and leaned over, kissing Seven. It was quick, a mere brush of lips over hers, but for the captain of the starship Voyager, it was quite daring indeed.

Lost for four years in the Delta Quadrant, Captain Kathryn Janeway had molded her complex crew of Starfleet officers, Maquis outlaws, and a couple of alien civilians into a tightly knit family. They had faced all kinds of spatial abnormalities, hostile aliens, and their own internal conflicts with her unflinching and passionate leadership. Yet, she had always held herself aloof from them, relaxing certain protocols between captain and crew on one hand, yet maintaining her isolation from them on the other. It was a precarious tightrope necessary to keep her command sacrosanct.

Getting involved in a war between the Borg Collective and Species 8472 shook her off that tightrope with astonishing results. When it was all over, Voyager was 10,000 light years closer to the Alpha Quadrant, a key member of their family, the Ocampa telepath, Kes was gone, and a new member was added to Voyager's crew.

Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01.

Formerly Annika Hansen, she had been the daughter of two unconventional scientists pressing the final frontier in order to study the Borg, who ultimately assimilated them. Seven had been assigned to act as Janeway's liaison during the temporary alliance with the Collective, and circumstances forced Seven's link to be severed from the hivemind. Suddenly, the young woman was now a member of Janeway's crew, carried along with them as they sought their home in the Alpha Quadrant. As Seven's cybernetic implants were removed and her Humanity began to reassert itself, it quite often took the form of confrontations with the woman who had taken her from all she had known, spirited clashes that challenged and tested Kathryn Janeway to her very limits.

Then, they fell in love. No one could have predicted it. No one could have stopped it.

In trying to return Seven's Humanity to her, Janeway rediscovered her own, and where once she walked apart from her crew, by the very nature of her relationship with Seven, Janeway was forced to join the community rather than merely lead it. To the captain's surprise, it did not weaken her position as she had initially feared. Instead, her crew developed a new loyalty to their captain based on more than the mere chain of command. It became one based on a new perception of her Humanity, of her compassion and personality, and where once her crew would have followed the Starfleet captain into the most dangerous situations, now they would follow Kathryn Janeway to the very pits of Hell itself.

Yet, for all that, Kathryn saw Seven was surprised to be kissed while on duty. She knew the younger woman did not realize how profound the changes were that Janeway had gone through, especially recently. There had been a time only a month ago where Janeway had believed Seven dead, lost to her forever, and the young woman's safe return had forced her to realize that there was more she required from life than just being a starship captain, such as the simple need to kiss her partner in the astrometrics lab.

With another smile, more impish this time, Kathryn leaned forward, and wrapped her partner up in a loving embrace, kissing the young blond intently. After some initial hesitation, Seven returned the kiss eagerly, her lips parting beneath Janeway's demanding, yet tender mouth.

"This is different," she said huskily, after they parted, resting her forehead against Janeway's. "You do not normally allow affectionate gestures while we are on duty."

"No I don't," Janeway admitted. "However, I've decided that once in awhile, I'm going to remind you of how very much I love you."

Seven considered that. "I have an eidetic memory," she said uncertainly. "I do not have to be 'reminded'."

"So you're saying you don't want be kissed?" Janeway teased gently.

"No, I am not saying that," Seven responded promptly. "I am merely confused now that your behavior has changed. I wish to know why."

Janeway tilted Seven's chin up so she could look into the pale blue eyes. "I love you, Annika," she said seriously. "I'm never going to let anything get in the way of that again. If I feel like kissing you, I will, all right?"

"Very well," Seven allowed. A pause. "What if I wish to kiss you?"

Janeway took a breath. So she would have to define the parameters after all. But then, was that really so surprising? Seven's unfamiliarity with Humanity was second only to her unfamiliarity with romantic situations. Janeway would never forget the time shortly after they first recognized their relationship when Seven had come onto the bridge and before the whole command staff, told her she was ready to make love now. Since Janeway had not immediately died from the profound humiliation at that moment, it was her belief that anything else Seven came up with would be fairly easy to handle in comparison.

"All right," the captain explained. "Space is pretty quiet right now, and you and I are alone together in relative privacy. If such circumstances arrive, even while on duty, then affectionate gestures are acceptable. When we are in the company of others while on duty, however, then no, there will be no affectionate gestures. However, off duty, they are acceptable at anytime." She paused, thought about that, and realized she better be more specific. "Within limits. We are never going to make love when we have an audience. There is a difference between affection and desire."

"I am aware of the difference," Seven said coolly and Janeway realized that she had been condescending, insulting the young woman slightly. She had to remember that just as she had grown into the relationship, Seven had as well, in some ways more quickly and completely than the captain had.

"I know you are," Janeway said contritely. "I'm sorry Seven. I just don't want there to be any misunderstandings. Can we, perhaps, create a sort of signal between us so that if you're ever unsure about whether I am in a position to accept an affectionate display, we can utilize it?"

Seven nodded. "That would be acceptable."

Janeway laughed suddenly, and Seven looked at her quizzically. "I was just struck by the absurdity of me sitting on the deck in the astrometrics lab discussing what are, and are not, acceptable affectionate gestures while on duty," the captain explained to the mystified blonde. "They never covered this at Starfleet Academy. Maybe they should have."

"Perhaps," Seven allowed. "Is it customary for Starfleet captains to become romantically involved with Borg drones?"

Janeway eyed her, then realized that humor was tinting the pale eyes. "Not really," she allowed dryly, smiling.

"It is highly unlikely it would be on the regular curriculum," Seven noted.

"Though it would be a class everyone would want to join," Janeway said with a wide smile. "So tell me, what should our signal be?"

"You cannot simply tell me that it is not time for such things?" Seven asked.

"I prefer a little more subtlety," Janeway admitted.

"Perhaps you should tell me what the signal should be," Seven said.

Janeway thought. "During times where the situation isn't clear, put your hand on my elbow," she offered. "If I ignore it, then you should back off. If I turn to you, then the affectionate gesture, whatever it is, will be acceptable."

"Very acceptable," Seven said, and promptly put her hands on both of Janeway's elbows, pulling her to her.

Seven positioned the last place-setting on the table with great care. She was in the quarters she shared with Janeway, preparing for the arrival of Lt. B'Elanna Torres, Voyager's chief engineer, who had been invited for dinner this evening. It was an attempt by the captain to cheer her up since the Klingon/Human hybrid had recently broken off her relationship with Lt. Tom Paris, the ship's helmsman. Seven knew that Kathryn was hoping a quiet dinner would provide her the opportunity to talk with B'Elanna, to try to smooth things over on behalf of the fair-haired young man.

Seven had other intentions. She had invited Commander Chakotay to the meal, aware that the ship's first officer was concerned about B'Elanna. Unlike Kathryn, the Borg felt the feisty engineer needed someone much stronger than Tom Paris as her lifemate, and with the trio's recent foray to the Alpha Quadrant, Seven had discovered just how well Chakotay and Torres functioned together. She knew that she had neglected to discuss this with the captain, but since Janeway had not discussed her intentions clearly either, Seven decided that neither took precedence over the other.

Setting down the plate, Seven hesitated as she felt a wave of dizziness wash over her, and she leaned heavily on the table. For a moment, she was afraid that she might actually fall, but gradually, it passed, and she was able to stand upright once more. That, undoubtedly, was one of the symptoms the Doctor had told her to be on the alert for. Tomorrow, she would call sickbay and inform him that, while she was not anticipating undergoing the procedure he apparently believed she now required, the symptoms had begun. The procedure would leave her incapacitated for a specific amount of time, and Seven was very concerned about the aesthetic qualities of it. Would Kathryn still look at her the same afterward? For that reason, she had not discussed this topic with her partner, either.

Seven took a breath as the door to the quarters hissed open, and she was gratified to see Kathryn enter; on time for a change. Though the young woman would be forced to admit that, since her return from the Alpha Quadrant, the captain had been scrupulous about maintaining her punctuality. Perhaps Kathryn had indeed changed her habits. Still, they had yet to face a crisis situation in this empty part of space, and Seven knew all bets were off in that circumstance. She wondered where she had acquired that phrase; 'All bets were off?' It must have been something she had picked up from one of the crew.

"Kathryn," she said with pleasure as her partner immediately crossed the room to be embraced.

"Hello, love," Janeway murmured, hugging her gently. "All ready for this evening?"

"Yes," Seven replied, looking down into the eyes which were shaded a vivid blue. "I have programmed the main course into the replicator, Neelix has delivered the requested supplements, and I have uncorked the wine as per your instructions, so that it may 'breathe'."

Janeway smiled. "You make the perfect Starfleet captain's wife," she said dryly.

Seven noted the tone. "Is that good?" she asked suspiciously.

"For tonight at least," the captain said with a short laugh. She regarded Seven fondly. "You don't miss certain inflections anymore, do you?"

"Not yours," Seven said. "I do not always know when you are joking, but I am aware that you are more apt to be facetious when we are off duty. I have learned to note the subtleties of your voice."

"I guess I'll have to watch what I say then," Janeway said lightly. She seemed to notice the table for the first time. "Four place settings? Seven, you didn't invite Tom, did you?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "No," she responded. "That would have been ... unwise."

Janeway let out a breath. "Yes, it would have," she said. She looked at Seven curiously. "Who else is coming?"

"Commander Chakotay," Seven said. "I invited him this afternoon."

"Why?" Janeway asked, puzzled.

Seven considered her words carefully. "He is B'Elanna's friend," she said finally.

Janeway nodded. "Yes, he is," she said. She rested her palm warmly against Seven's cheek. "That was very thoughtful, Annika."

Seven hoped she still thought so when it became obvious that Chakotay, and not Tom Paris, was the more suitable romantic match for B'Elanna Torres. She knew that Janeway held a fondness for Lt. Paris that went beyond a captain's concern for a crewmember, the young woman believing it had to do with Admiral Owen Paris, Tom's father. She had the opportunity to observe the admiral in the Alpha Quadrant and had been less than impressed with the man. Not that Seven would ever presume to tell Janeway that, keenly aware that for whatever reason, Janeway admired the man greatly. Seven decided it was because of Kathryn's past, when Paris had acted as Janeway's mentor and advisor. Privately, Seven thought that Kathryn far outstripped him in every category, and that the admiral would do very well to have looked to the captain as his mentor, instead of the other way around. She also wondered if Janeway knew B'Elanna had struck him just before leaving DS9.

"I'm going to get changed." Janeway kissed her once more, before pulling away from the warm embrace reluctantly.

"Do you require assistance?" Seven asked evenly.

Janeway shot her a glance over her shoulder, smiling charmingly. "I think not," she said, with gentle humor. "Your assistance usually keeps me from getting dressed at all."

"Only on the occasions when dressing is not the primary goal," Seven reminded her.

She watched Janeway disappear into the bedroom, and swayed slightly as another surge of dizziness went through her. This was most inconvenient. She hoped that she could get through the rest of the evening without requiring the Doctor to attend her. Perhaps, with determination and Borg willpower, she could control her contrary body, and be able to concentrate fully on the dinner party.

The chime at the door indicated the arrival of at least one of their guests, and carefully she went over to it. Either they were early, or Janeway had been a bit late arriving after all. Seven made a note of the time, and discovered it was neither. She frowned, disturbed. How had she missed that? It was not her nature to lose moments of time.

"Hi, Seven." B'Elanna Torres was at the door. "Am I early?"

"No," Seven replied. "You are exactly on time."

She stepped aside to allow the chief engineer to enter the quarters, and showed her to the living area. The door chimed again, and she left B'Elanna on the couch to return to the entrance. She keyed it open to see the tall, dark, handsome Chakotay who was holding a bottle in his hands. Seven accepted it with some bemusement. A tradition she was unaware of, she thought as she took it over to the table rather than point out to the first officer that they already had a bottle of wine. She turned and was gratified to see that Chakotay had joined B'Elanna on the couch rather than taking a chair apart from her. On the coffee table before them, Seven had laid out plates of Neelix's supplements that the Talaxian assured her were the perfect compliment to the meal she had planned. Since neither the first officer nor the engineer saw fit to spit them across the room, Seven assumed that was a correct assessment.

She heard Janeway enter from the bedroom, glancing over to see the captain pause in the doorway long enough to observe her two guests whose heads were bent close together, deep in conversation. Frowning once, Janeway replaced it with a charming smile before going over to them, taking her place in the chair near the couch, joining the conversation smoothly. Seven greatly admired her partner's ability to become a part of any situation so easily. It was not something the Borg was adept at in the slightest, despite all the tutoring she had received at the hands of both the captain and the Doctor.

Seven observed their interaction for a while, then interrupted during the first lull in the discussion. "May I offer you something to drink?" she asked.

Chakotay and B'Elanna looked at her with surprise, Kathryn, with approval.

"I think our guests would appreciate some wine from the bottle Chakotay has brought," Janeway offered. She nodded at the other two. "Excuse me while I help Seven."

"Have I've missed something here?" Janeway asked in a low voice as she joined Seven at the table. The captain was dressed in a simple, dark blue sheath that showed her eyes to their best advantage as well as her firm body. Seven found it quite pleasing.

"You look very beautiful," Seven told her.

Janeway shot her a sharp look. "That wasn't the question," she noted, as she tried to open the bottle of wine, struggling a bit with the cork. "But thank you. Did you have something else in mind when you invited Chakotay, Seven?"

"'Something else'?" Seven dissembled, raising an eyebrow as she retrieved the glasses from the place settings. "Could you be more specific?"

Janeway cast her a considering glance from beneath lowered lashes as she handed Seven the wine bottle. Seven immediately opened it, disdaining the use of the cork screw, and pulled the cork directly from the slender neck with the metal-covered forefinger and thumb of her left hand. Janeway accepted the bottle back with a faint smile.

"Never mind," she said. "I'm being silly accusing you of matchmaking. You've probably never even heard of it." The captain poured the wine into the four glasses, and scooping up two of them, she returned to the living area where she handed them to Chakotay and B'Elanna.

Seven took a breath, reminding herself that it would not be as easy as it seemed when she had first come up with the idea to provide the opportunity for the first officer and the chief engineer to become romantically involved. Kathryn's intention to reunite Paris and B'Elanna would be difficult to divert, and would take some careful maneuvering on her part.

Picking up the other two glasses, she joined Janeway, perching on the arm of the chair beside the captain, and gave her one of the glasses, keeping the other for herself. She sipped the wine, found it too strong for her liking, and contented herself with merely holding it as the conversation covered the various encounters Chakotay, B'Elanna and Seven had experienced on their recent trip to the Alpha Quadrant.

"You should have seen the look on Chakotay's face when that pile of goo he had been stepping over for the last hour, suddenly rose up and arrested him," B'Elanna completed her story with a laugh, elbowing the burly first officer who grinned sheepishly.

"It wasn't quite the end to the adventure I had anticipated," he agreed. He looked at B'Elanna. "It was just like old times for a while, though, wasn't it?" he added in a gentler voice.

She smiled, eyes softening perceptibly. "We did make a good team, didn't we?" she said.

"Still do," he said, smiling back at her.

For a moment they stared at each other, and Seven felt a great deal of satisfaction.

Janeway cleared her throat, interrupting the moment. "I understand that you saw your cousin, Chakotay," she said.

"Yes," he replied, nodding. "He came from Arizona on Earth to tell me exactly what happened with the Maquis." His face sobered as he considered his homeworld. "They didn't stand a chance against the Jem'Hadar."

The conversation turned to the war being fought in the Alpha Quadrant. Seven could tell there was an edge of frustration in their tone. It was hard for the Voyager crew to be stranded in the Delta Quadrant while the Federation, along with their allies, the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic, fought against the Cardassians and their Gamma Quadrant allies, the mysterious Dominion. They felt helpless, as if they could somehow turn the entire war around in favor of the Federation if they were there, rather than here. Seven considered that Janeway had faced down all adversaries, from the Borg Collective to packs of Hirogen Hunters, so perhaps that was not as irrational as it sounded. Seven had little doubt that this Dominion would fall quickly before Janeway's indomitable will and determination.

After a short period of time, Janeway invited their guests to move the conversation to the dinner table, where Seven helped Janeway serve the main course; a pasta covered with a light tomato sauce, filled with chunks of vegetables, chicken-flavored protein, and spices. It was a dish created from a recipe by Janeway's mother, Gretchen, and Seven had been quite daring when she programmed it into the replicator. She was glad that the recent upgrades and enhancements B'Elanna had been able to do on the ship's systems had brought the main replication system back on line. Most of the crew, surprisingly, still preferred Neelix's creations in the mess hall, but for those who wanted a taste of home, it was a godsend, perhaps just in time.

Seven was very interested in what Kathryn's reaction would be. The captain tended to pay less than close attention to what she was eating at the best of times, and Seven didn't think Kathryn had even noticed what the dish was ... until she took her first bite.

She stared at Seven. "Annika?" she said in a wondering voice.

"Your mother gave me copies of her recipies, and I programmed them into the replicator buffer," Seven explained. "I trust that I was able to duplicate this one successfully."

"This is great, Seven," B'Elanna said. "I never thought you'd learn how to cook."

"It really is delicious," Chakotay chimed in. He gave her a gentle smile. "I wouldn't mind having the recipe myself."

Janeway just looked at her with warm, shining eyes that filled Seven with a pleasure so great, the young woman thought she would never require any external food source again. She would be able to live simply on the memory of that expression on Kathryn's face.

Which would be wonderful if it were at all possible, Seven thought as she poked at her food unenthusiastically. She was not hungry at the moment even though it was time to ingest her nutritional supplement, and she had to force herself to take a few bites of her pasta, tasting it gingerly. It had an acceptable flavor, but for some reason, it made her uncomfortable when she swallowed. Still, one did not waste food on Voyager, and she made herself finish the small portion she had taken for herself.

The conversation continued in the same vein as it had been in the living area, with the Voyager members discussing the various changes which had occurred in the Federation the past few years. While Seven did not offer much in the way of anecdotes, she enjoyed listening to the rest speak. They lingered over the meal for some time before returning to the living area, where coffee and dessert were served; caramel brownies that were given out by the captain as if they were gold-pressed latinum. Seven did not think the two guests realized how very precious the small, sweet squares were to Janeway, but they seemed reasonably appreciative of the treat. The Borg also received many accolades for the caffeine brew she had prepared, and Seven thought that, if nothing else, she had acquired a few useful skills during her brief time in the Alpha Quadrant. Certainly Kathryn seemed to rank them higher than the Borg's considerable competence with the ship's systems.

Seven supposed that was because her abilities in astrometrics and engineering were somehow assumed of her, whereas her new aptitude with food preparation was completely unexpected, especially considering she had spent the last eighteen years prior to coming to Voyager not eating at all. Instead, her body had received its energy directly from the Borg cube in her regeneration cubicle. Even for the first nine or ten months of her arrival on Voyager, she had regenerated directly from the ship itself. Recently however, she had been forced to change over to solid, organic food as her Human biology asserted itself over her Borg implants.

As the evening progressed, Seven found herself grow increasingly detached. It was with disinterest that she nodded to Chakotay and B'Elanna as they said their good-byes, though she did manage a certain amount of gratification to see that they left together, apparently acquiring a new closeness. She wondered if it would continue in the future, and how she could encourage it.

"I suppose you're quite pleased with yourself," Janeway accused gently as she helped Seven clear the dishes from the table and place them in the recycling unit.

Seven took a breath. "I am unsure as to what you are referring," she said. She felt very strange. It was hard for her to respond properly.

"Making Chakotay and B'Elanna a couple," Janeway said dryly. "It was my intention that Tom and B'Elanna would get back together."

"You will fail," Seven said.

Startled, Janeway stopped what she was doing, her hands full of plates as she regarded Seven with a disturbed expression. "There's a phrase I haven't heard from you in a while," the captain said, suddenly quiet. "Can't say as I've missed it either. Seven, I appreciate that you, for some reason, think Chakotay and B'Elanna are suited to one another, but Tom and B'Elanna did have a good relationship."

"That is irrelevant," Seven said. She did not mean to be saying these things in quite the manner they were being expressed. She could tell that last bit, in particular, angered Janeway.

"Seven, I don't think you should get involved here," Kathryn advised, and there was a coolness to her voice to match Seven's flat tone.

"Irrelevant," Seven repeated. None of this was what she wanted to say but for some reason, she was unable to generate much beyond the clipped responses from her past. She was definitely feeling odd. Dizziness swept over her again, and she rested her weight heavily on her left hand, which was pressed against the table top. The glass in her right, she carefully set down ... or at least she thought she had. Instead, it slipped off the edge and dropped to the floor, shattering.

"Annika." Janeway was beside her. Seven could not remember seeing her move. "Are you all right?" Her voice was no longer annoyed. Instead, concern colored her tone.

"No," Seven replied honestly. She swallowed, her mouth seemingly full of moisture suddenly. "I am ... uncomfortable." She was forced to swallow again, with difficulty.

Janeway put a supportive arm around her waist. "Seven, what's wrong?" she asked. She placed her other hand on Seven's cheek. "You're burning up."

Seven supposed that was not good. She felt a strange sensation about her mid-section, an odd sort of tightness within her, a spasming of sorts, and reflexively, she swallowed again, gulping audibly.

"Oh boy," Janeway said, and was suddenly urging Seven to move, to walk though the younger woman really did not wish to. "Come on, darling. Come with me."

Dazedly, Seven realized Janeway was forcing her into the bathroom, helping her kneel beside the biological waste receptacle unit. She didn't know why, other than the fact that these awful spasms in her midsection made her feel as if her insides were insisting on being on her outside. She kept swallowing and swallowing, and then finally, she couldn't any longer as fluid, thick, and very unpalatable, expelled from her mouth into the bowl.

"It's all right, love," she heard Janeway saying beside her.

Seven thought that was the single, most inaccurate thing the captain had ever said to her. It was not all right, at all.

She wanted to tell Janeway that, but she was unable to, being fully occupied with the fact that her dinner was now leaving her digestive tract in great shuddering heaves. Not only her dinner, she decided,  because she could not remember having consumed the amount of organic material that was now splashing thickly into the porcelain bowl. It was impossible for her to control her body, making her very frustrated ... and not a little frightened.

"K..Kathryn," she managed as the spasms paused briefly, before resuming their grip on her.

"It's a reaction, darling," Janeway said soothingly, pressing her hand against the back of the Borg's neck as Seven heaved again. "You're vomiting. Your dinner must not have agreed with you." Seven could hear the thread of worry in her voice, however.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Seven completed this rather distasteful, and extremely unpleasant, lesson in Human frailty. She leaned weakly against the bowl, shuddering as Janeway flushed the mess away, and gently wiped the Borg's face and mouth with a damp cloth.

"I am not functioning properly," Seven said, breathing hard. Trembling, she grasped Janeway's wrist, looking at her beseechingly.

"I know, darling," Janeway said calmly. "Just be still for a moment." She touched her comm badge. "Janeway to sickbay. Doctor, I need you in my quarters immediately."

Seven took a breath, suddenly aware of what that meant. Kathryn would not be pleased when she found out what the Doctor would have to tell her.

She thought she might just 'vomit' again.

Janeway held Seven tightly as the young woman knelt on the cold tile floor of their bathroom. She knew that the Borg was scared, and wished she could allay her fears, but the truth was, she was a little frightened, herself. Years of training just made her better at controlling and hiding it. She could not remember ever seeing Seven so weak, not even when they had first began removing the implants from the Borg Drone. Even then, Seven of Nine had been antagonistic and cantankerous, full of rebellious spirit, taking the first opportunity she had to try to contact the Collective. Janeway had been forced to confine her to the brig, and the woman, stalking the small room like a caged animal, had taken a wild swing at the individual she blamed for her situation before collapsing, lost and alone, rejecting Janeway's attempts at reassurance.

It was a far cry from the woman now huddled in the captain's arms, shaking as she sought all the assurance she could from her ... consolation Janeway did not know how to give, and she hugged her lover, rocking her gently as she stroked the blonde hair, and murmured nonsense words of comfort. It was with profound relief that she heard the hum of the transporter in the outer living area.

"Captain?"  Janeway heard the puzzled tone belonging to her chief medical officer.

"In the bathroom," she responded tersely.

"Hmm, I guess I don't need the dermal regenerator after all," the Doctor said as he entered the bathroom. "I thought you two were having sex, and Seven overstepped her romantic boundaries again."

Janeway took a breath, counted to ten, forcing herself not to lash out verbally as the Doctor ran his medical probe over Seven, staring at his tricorder intently. A slender, sparse form beneath the black and blue uniform, the Emergency Medical Hologram had been forced to function constantly since Voyager had entered the Delta Quadrant, fulfilling the duties as their CMO. As a result, he far exceeded his initial programming, and had actually become what many could call sentient, though one of the hologram's continued failings was a distinct lack of tactful bedside manner.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked edgily as she helped Seven sit up on the side of the tub.

"It's the abdominal implant," he explained, frowning over his readings. "I'll have to remove it sooner than I had anticipated." He favored the captain with a reproving look. "Next time, don't let B'Elanna do Seven's maintenance." He pulled a vial from his medikit, inserted it into his hypospray, and pressed it against Seven's neck.

"What are you talking about?" Janeway demanded as Seven immediately started to look better, her breathing easing as the queasiness was blocked.

The Doctor blinked at her. "The adaptations Lt. Torres had to make in the Alpha Quadrant to allow Seven to bypass her regeneration process," he said in a tone that indicated he thought she knew, or at least, should know. "However, by bypassing the abdominal function, and making it possible for Seven to exist solely on organic food, her body is now starting to reject the implant. It was only a matter of time."

"Why didn't you tell me this?" she said, staring at him accusingly.

"I told her," he responded, somewhat defensively.

They both looked at Seven who returned their regard with a wild stab at her customary control. It did not succeed, and instead, she just appeared mussed, and very distressed. Anxiously, Janeway cupped the young woman's face in her hand, tilting her head up so that she could look into the ice-blue eyes.

"Seven, you knew you were ill?" she asked, dismayed.

"I am not ill," Seven protested weakly. "I was not ... he told me I did not have to have the implant removed yet."

"Well, I've changed my mind," the Doctor said as he continued to take readings from her. "Your body is definitely rejecting the implant. It will have to be removed as soon as possible. I'll schedule the operation for tomorrow morning, and in the meantime, don't eat anything. Try to get as much rest as possible between now and then." He injected her with two more hyposprays. "This will reduce the swelling, and the other will stop any further dizziness."

He stood up, and together with Janeway, they helped Seven to her feet. "I feel unclean," Seven said unsteadily. "I wish to shower."

"Hmm, yes, well, I'll be returning to sickbay then," the Doctor said, fidgeting as he clearly wanted to make his escape.

"Not yet," Janeway said, her voice in its lowest, most dangerous register. "Wait in the living area while I help Seven. I want to talk to you further about this."

The Doctor gave Seven a significant look as he released her. "I hope you realize you got me in trouble," he sniffed as he left the ensuite.

Seven looked after him, then looked at Janeway. "I think I can manage on my own," she said in a small voice.

"Perhaps," Janeway said unrelentingly. "I'm going to help you, anyway." She kept a supportive arm around Seven's waist as together, they removed the skin-tight outfit the younger woman customarily wore. Janeway caught her breath as she saw that the grey ribbing covering the better part of Seven's torso had sunken into her flesh, which was now swollen, the scarred skin puffy and red.

"Seven, you should have told me about this," she said, horrified.

"It was unnecessary," Seven responded, as she hesitantly stepped into the shower cubicle. "Until now. I was functioning properly prior to this evening."

"That's not the point," Janeway said as Seven turned on the hydro-setting, the water washing over her slender form. "You knew this could happen. Seven, I have to know if things aren't all right with you. Why didn't you tell me about B'Elanna having to bypass your implant?"

Seven moved sluggishly under the cascade, leaning heavily against the side of the cubicle. The captain kept a judicious eye on her partner, ready to step and catch her if she looked like she was about to fall.

"Why did you not ask?" the Borg replied shortly. "I was required to regenerate every 96 hours prior to being transported to the Alpha Quadrant. I could not there. Since I did not die, obviously, a way around it was discovered. "

Janeway took another breath, counted to fifty slowly as anger and hurt rushed through her. "Seven, I'm trying very hard to be a better partner for you," she said quietly. "But I need your help, too."

Seven was silent for a long while, obviously hearing the distress in her voice though Janeway had tried to mask it. "I am sorry, Kathryn," she said contritely. "You are correct. I should have told you. I ... I was afraid."

Janeway blinked. "Of what?" she asked. She hesitated. "Of me?"

Seven turned off the water and still dripping, walked carefully over to the sink, leaning heavily on the counter as she drew on a variety of oral cleaners and fresheners from the small shelves recessed into the wall below the large mirror, rinsing her mouth several times in a effort to get rid of all remaining traces of her bout with vomiting. Janeway picked up a towel and began to dry her off, being very gentle in the area around the implant, trying to be patient as she waited for Seven to respond to her question.

Finally, Seven looked at Janeway's reflection in the mirror, her eyes sad and perplexed. "This all must be removed," she said, gesturing slightly to the implant covering her midsection. "I will no longer be as I am. I will be different."

Janeway took a long blue flannel robe from the hook and draped it over Seven's narrow shoulders as she attempted to figure out what was causing this anxiety in her partner. "Annika," she said softly. "Any changes created by removing your implant will be external only. You'll still be the same person."

"That is incorrect," Seven said. "I will no longer be able to remain awake for days. I will no longer be able to draw energy directly from the ship. I will no longer have as much immunity to many types of radiations and disease. I will no longer be as physically strong. I will no longer be as efficient. I will be different. I will be less than I am."

"Seven, why are you frightened of that?" Janeway asked, trying hard to understand.

"I am afraid...." Seven bent her head, looking at the floor. "I do not know if you can love a different me. A lesser me."

Janeway caught her breath, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. "Oh, Annika, you will not be 'lesser'," she said huskily. "If I were to become ill, if I were unable to continue as captain of this vessel, would you stop loving me?"

Seven raised her head with a jerk, looking at the captain's reflection with startled eyes. "I will never stop loving you," she told her.

"And I will never stop loving you," Janeway said, putting her hand on Seven's cheek, urging her face around so that she was looking fully at her. "Annika, my love for you is just as strong as yours is for me, please believe that."

Seven eyed her uncertainly. "You require a mate who is strong, who is capable," she said.

"I require you and only you," Janeway replied firmly. She drew Seven's head down so that she could kiss her gently on the forehead. "Don't you ever do this again," she commanded in an irrefutable tone. "Don't you ever keep things from me that you know might hurt you."

"I will not," Seven replied softly. "I promise." She rested her head against Janeway's, closing her eyes. "I am afraid that this will hurt me, Kathryn. I do not want to be hurt."

Janeway took a breath. "I know," she said, hugging the narrow shoulders gently, cupping the flushed cheek in her palm. "We'll do everything in our power to see that it doesn't. I'm right here with you, Annika. You're not alone."

Seven did not reply. Instead, she entwined her arms around Janeway's neck and hugged her tightly, eyes closed as she rested her cheek against the smaller woman's temple. Janeway held her gingerly, but lovingly, not wanting to cause her partner any pain. For long moments they stood in their embrace, Janeway trying to give Seven as much reassurance as she knew how to give.

"Come on, love," Janeway said finally. "I want you to get into bed. I need to speak with the Doctor about this."

Seven nodded and allowed Janeway to lead her out into the bedroom where Janeway pulled back the covers on the bed and helped Seven get in, drawing the blankets up over her as she bent down to kiss her forehead. "I'll be back shortly," she murmured. "Try to sleep." She stroked Seven's cheek gently with her fingertips before leaving her.

The Doctor had just finished cleaning up the shattered splinters of glass on the floor by the table when Janeway came out. He put the crystal shards in the recycling unit and faced her, raising his hands defensively.

"I couldn't tell you," he said.

"Why not?" Janeway responded coldly. She was furious, but she was not going to allow that to control her responses here.

"Captain, either Seven is an responsible, independant member of this crew, or she is not," he explained. "If she is an adult, if it does not directly endanger the ship, and she requests that I not share the results of her medical exam, then I cannot breach that confidentiality for anyone, not even the captain."

"What about for her partner?" Janeway said tightly.

"I'm sorry, Captain" he responded. "It had to be her decision."

Janeway took a breath and walked away, pacing about the room. "What are we looking at?" she said.

"The entire implant must be removed," he explained solemnly. "This is not how I would have chosen to do it, however. My plan was to remove one band at a time over a space of months as her body adapted to utilizing organic food to get its energy. Her impromptu trip to the Alpha Quadrant, and Lt. Torres's need to alter the implant, altered the time factor considerably."

"Is this more dangerous than your original plan?" she said, turning to face him, hands on her hips. Unbidden, a muscle jumped in her jaw, her gaze, a solid grey slate behind which she tried to hide her worry and fear. "Removing it all at once?"

"Yes," he admitted. "Considerably so. It's massive surgery, and very time consuming. I will require someone to monitor her vitals at all times, while I remove all the connections to her digestive system." He sighed. "It's times like this that I really miss Kes. I don't think Mr. Paris is really up to this sort of thing."

Janeway nodded. It occurred to her that she should have made others in the crew train with the Doctor. His abrasive manner made him a difficult person to work with, but the fact was, the ship needed more in the way of medical personnel. As much as she had faith in the piloting abilities of Lt. Paris, she would not have chosen Tom to participate in such a delicate operation, either. She completely understood the Doctor's dismay over Kes's loss, regretting the Ocampa's absence bitterly.

"Any other options?" she asked. "Is there anyone else who can assist you?"

He hesitated.

"Doctor?" She raised her head, eyes narrowing.

"I do have one idea," he said slowly. "One I've been considering for a while. Kes's profile is in the computer. I would like to create a holographic medical assistant based on her knowledge, her skill and her familiarity with working in sickbay. However, it would require a great deal of power from the ship to create her, though, if we could bring the ship to a stop, and with the assistance of Lt. Torres and Lt. Kim, I think the emitter upgrades Voyager got from the Alpha Quadrant could have the hologram up and running by tomorrow morning."

Janeway looked at him, eyes dark. "Kes?" she said.

"Well, it wouldn't exactly be her, of course," he offered. "Utilizing the last profile we had on Kes, would give us a useful matrix however, and if we base it on my algorithms, allow it to access the medical data base, then perhaps we could create a hologram that could begin assisting me right away, and have the capacity to learn, just as I do."

Janeway took a breath and walked away. She didn't know how comfortable she was with the idea of having a holographic matrix based on the woman who was no longer with them ... the woman who had been a dear friend ... even if it could be done. She leaned against the windows that dominated one side of the room, looking out at the black depths of space, seeking inspiration there, some sort of sign to help her make a decision like this on such short notice.

Would they be any worse off if they tried and failed?

She touched her comm badge. "Helm, bring the ship to a full stop," she said quietly. "Maintain station-keeping here until further notice." She turned and looked at the Doctor. "Let me change into my uniform. I want to help."

He nodded, and she went back into the bedroom. Seven was sleeping uneasily on her side of the bed, though she woke as Janeway was pulling on the uniform she had discarded earlier in the evening.

"Kathryn?" Seven blinked sleepily.

Janeway came over and sat on the edge of the bed next to her lover. "Seven, the Doctor's come up with an idea to make tomorrow go a little smoother," she explained, resting the back of her knuckles lightly on Seven's cheek. "But I need to help him."

"I will help as well," the Borg said, attempting to sit up.

"No, Annika," the captain instructed in the firm resolute voice that Seven had learned not to argue with. "If you wish, you can go to sickbay where you can sleep on a biobed, or you can stay here, in our bed, but you will sleep. Do I need to have the Doctor administer a sedative?"

Seven shook her head. "No," she replied. "I will sleep here. I do not require a sedative."

"All right," Janeway said. She leaned over and kissed her gently. "I'll return as soon as possible, my love. Call me if you need anything."

She kissed her once more and quickly she left the room to join the Doctor. She touched her comm badge as they left her quarters. "Lt. Torres, Lt. Kim, Lt. Paris, general alert. I require your presence in holodeck one."

"Waitaminute," B'Elanna said, waving her hands with agitation as she stalked up and down in the holodeck. "You want to recreate Kes?"

"A hologram based on her, yes," the Doctor said patiently.

"Why Kes?" Harry Kim asked.

"Because she is the only one on the ship who had the knowledge to assist in such an operation," the Doctor explained. "Her profile is the only one that we could use on such short notice. Other than mine. We could always create another me," he added brightly.

"I think Kes is a good idea," Tom Paris put in quickly. He was standing next to the captain, as far away from B'Elanna as he could get. Not because he didn't want his ex-lover back, but because the engineer had a way of smacking him briskly across the head when he least expected it. "Are you sure I can't do this, Doc?"

"You're our backup, Mr. Paris," the captain interjected smoothly. She nodded at him. "If this doesn't work, then you will be assisting the Doctor tomorrow. I'm sorry to have called you out of your holo-program, but I need you to retire for the evening, and get as much sleep as you can."

"I understand," the boyish helmsman said soberly. He nodded at the rest and left immediately.

"What can I do?" Chakotay asked.

Janeway wasn't sure why the first officer had shown up with B'Elanna other than the possibility that they had been together when the call went through to the chief engineer, and he had tagged along out of curiosity. In any event, she could not find it in her heart to condemn this development; she was just grateful he was here. It saved her a great deal of time.

"Chakotay, I need you to cover my duties for the next few days," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Inform the crew that holodeck one is off limits for the time being, and that we will be maintaining our position here in space until the operation is complete."

The broad-shouldered first officer brushed the tattoo over his left eye with his thumb in an unconscious gesture of worry. "I understand," he said. "The operation will take place here?"

"If we can get the Kes hologram to work," Janeway said. "After that, we'll see about transferring the matrix to sickbay to act as the Doctor's assistant, but for now, we'll take it one step at a time."

"All right," he said. He rested his hand on her arm. "Good luck."

"Thanks," she said, and watched him leave. He was a dear man, a good friend, and he could do much worse than becoming involved with B'Elanna. Certainly, he was unlikely to ever do better. If only Janeway was not so fond of Tom Paris. She knew her helmsman loved the engineer implicitly, yet, even Janeway had to admit that sleeping with someone else, even though Tom thought B'Elanna had been dead at the time, was a bit much to overcome. She suspected Seven had a distinct advantage in this little competition.

She took a breath, and tried not to show her worry about her partner as she turned to the others in the room. "Okay, people," she said. "Where do we start?"

"Building the matrix," Harry replied promptly. "Get the form first, then we'll be able to download the personality profile into it."

It was a painstaking process, not helped by the time constraints they were working under. The only advantage they had was the fact that both B'Elanna Torres and Harry Kim were brilliant in their fields, both of which were eminently suited for such a project. Janeway was not bad in the scientific department either, and there was no one with more knowledge about medical holograms than the Doctor himself. In the end, however, it was the enhanced holo-emitters that had been brought back from the Alpha Quadrant that not only gave the proper form to the hologram, but allowed it to function as well.

"Well, Captain," B'Elanna said wearily as they stared at the small, slender woman before them. "We may never be able to get her to work outside of this room, and the power drain on the rest of the systems was phenomenal, but it's Kes."

Janeway nodded, but privately she did not agree. Oh, the form was right, the voice, even the personality to a certain degree but there was something lacking. The warmth, the empathy that had surrounded the woman she had known was simply not there, but if it meant that the Doctor had an able assistant while he operated on Seven, then she was satisfied.

"Doctor?" she asked.

"We'll prepare the holodeck for surgery," he responded promptly. Unlike the rest of them, he was still as fresh as when they had started. "We'll transport Seven directly here in three hours."

"You may want to spend some time with her, Captain," the Kes-hologram said gently.

Janeway managed a tired smile. That was like Kes all right, even without that sorely missed, undefinable element.

"Thank you," she said. "In a few hours then." She looked at Kim and B'Elanna who were practically out on their feet. "This was very good work people," she told them sincerely as they left the holodeck. "Well done."

"I'd say 'any time', Captain," Lt. Kim said with a half smile. "But I hope Seven never has to go through this again."

"I agree with you there, Mr. Kim," she said. "Take the next few days off. You've earned them."

He smiled tiredly, nodded in gratitude and headed for the mess hall. Janeway looked at B'Elanna who was walking listlessly down the corridor. "You too, B'Elanna," she said.

"I don't feel like I've earned anything, Captain," she said quietly. "If it hadn't been for me, Seven wouldn't be in this mess."

Janeway put her hand comfortingly on the Klingon's shoulder. "Belay that," she ordered gently. "You probably saved her life in the Alpha Quadrant. If you hadn't been with her...." She shook her head. "I really don't want to think about what might have happened in that case."

B'Elanna took a breath. "I'll try to keep that in mind," she said, a little less depressed. The Klingon shrugged the captain's hand off, and used her own at Janeway's back to propel her down the corridor. "She needs you, Captain. Go be with her."

Janeway was only too glad to obey that 'order'. Quickly, she went to her quarters, entering them quietly and tiptoed across the living area to the bedroom. She paused a moment in the doorway to watch Seven sleeping uneasily in the center of the bed, curled up like a child seeking shelter against the coolness of the night. Carefully the captain moved over to sit next to her, reclining against the headboard. Seven stirred, blinked sleepily, and shifted position slightly so that her head was resting on Janeway's lap.

"How are you feeling, love?" Janeway asked softly, as she stroked the blonde hair, smoothing the wild locks with gentle fingers.

"I am uncomfortable," Seven admitted. "I do not think I will ... vomit again, however."

Janeway smiled faintly. "That's good," she said. "I'm too tired to dodge."

"Were you successful in helping the Doctor?" Seven asked weakly.

Janeway rested her hand on the flushed cheek, frowning at the heat she felt there. "I think so," she said. "They'll be transporting you to the holodeck in a little while."

"Will you come with me?" Seven asked in a small voice.

"Of course I will, love," Janeway promised. "I'll be just outside the sterilizing field the entire time. You'll be unconscious, you know."

"I will be aware that you are there," Seven replied with certainty.

"That's all that matters," Janeway said softly, leaning down to kiss her tenderly.

She spent the rest of the time just holding the younger woman, telling her all about their efforts to create a Kes-hologram, assuring her that things would be perfectly all right, until her communicator finally chirped.

"Go ahead," she said.

"It's time, Captain," the Doctor's voice told her.

She slipped out from under Seven and stood up beside the bed. Finding the blue robe which she slipped onto Seven as the Borg uncertainly got out from beneath the covers, Janeway made sure that Seven was standing all right, then touched her comm badge.

"Proceed," she said, and felt the subtle vibration of the transporter beam surround them, carrying them away.

Seven struggled up through the morass of darkness that clung to her, reluctant to let her reach the light. She breathed deeply, recognizing that discomfort infusing a good portion of her body, and she carefully opened her eyes. Sickbay. She was in sickbay. For a moment she was unsure how she had gotten there, then slowly, the memories of the operation came back to her ... or at least, the memory of the need for the operation. She did not remember anything about the actual surgery itself, since she had been unconscious at the time.

She made a sound, swallowing against a sandpaper throat, looking around. Her head felt too heavy to lift, and it was an effort to even move her eyes. A face appeared in her line of vision, female, pretty, with long pointed ears and shaggy blonde hair cut short. This was the Kes-program, Seven thought. Perhaps she was not in sickbay after all. This was probably holodeck one.

"It's all right, Seven," the hologram told her gently, in a lyrical voice. She held up a container with a straw. "Here, I know you must be thirsty. Drink this."

Gratefully, Seven took in the sweetened fluid, feeling it spread cool and refreshing through her, soothing the ravaged edges of her insides. The Kes-hologram kept her from drinking it too quickly, allowing her to sip at it for only a brief time.

"What is my location?" Seven asked weakly, startled at the harshness of her own voice.

"You are in sickbay," the Kes explained.

"Then, they were successful at moving your matrix from the holodeck?"

"Yes, I am now functioning in this room," the Kes said.

"The ship ... was the drain on the systems overcome?"

The Kes smiled. "How interesting," she said.

"What?"

"You have just awakened three days after a major operation, and your first thoughts are about the functionality of my matrix," she said.

"That was the topic," Seven noted, slightly irritated. "I am not supposed to change the subject in a conversation. People find it rude." A lesson drilled into her by the Doctor. Why was she the only one expected to abide by these silly socialization rules?

"It was not meant as a criticism," the Kes soothed.

"Where is Captain Janeway?" Seven asked abruptly, no longer interested in speaking with the hologram.

"Not far," the Kes said. She motioned slightly with her chin, and Seven turned her head to see the huddled form of the captain curled up on a biobed not too far away, still dressed in her uniform, a sheet draped over her haphazardly. She was sound asleep, head resting on her hands, dark shadows under her eyes even in her slumber.

Seven felt sad and wonderful and amazed all at the same time. "She stayed with me," she said softly. "She said she would."

The Kes nodded. "She did not leave your side for a moment," she told her gently. "Not even when we were sure you would make it."

Seven raised an eyebrow weakly. "There was some doubt?"

The Kes looked distressed. "That slipped out," she said with a little reproach at herself in her voice. "I think perhaps I have too much of the Doctor's beside manner in me. Or perhaps it is B'Elanna's contribution to my personality matrix."

"Was I in danger?" Seven insisted calmly.

The hologram hesitated, which Seven observed with fascination. Clearly they had done a phenomenal job on creating this program. It was very personable, almost sentient. Her analytical mind ticked over the programming code necessary for such a thing, found it staggering even for her expanded intelligence.

"There were a few very bad moments during, and immediately after the surgery," the Kes explained reluctantly. "We actually thought we had lost you at one point, but fortunately, your nanoprobes activated to repair the bleeding."

"That is their function," Seven remarked absently. That explained the dark shadows beneath Kathryn's eyes, the lines of tension that were present even as she slept. Seven had discovered upon returning from the Alpha Quadrant that her existence was as necessary for the captain's proper functioning as Kathryn's was for hers. The younger woman tried to reach out a hand to touch Janeway, but the distance between the two beds was too great. She looked at the hologram.

"Take me to her," she demanded.

The Kes rolled her eyes. "Oh, I can see you're going to be a joy in recovery," she said, but the hologram did as instructed and pushed the biobed over until it was adjacent to the one Janeway was sleeping on.

Gently, Seven touched Kathryn's cheek, stroking it carefully with her mesh covered knuckles. She wished the positions were reversed so that she could be using her completely Human hand rather than the implant. Janeway flinched at the cool metal, taking a deep breath as her eyes opened to reveal a bleary grey gaze that immediately shaded to blue when she saw Seven. A gentle expression crossed her face, one of gratitude and pleasure, a half smile touching her lips.

"Hi there," she said softly, reaching up to capture Seven's hand in her own.

"Hello," Seven said as they entwined fingers, being very careful with her grip.

Janeway rose up on her elbow so she could look down at her, and Seven no longer needed to twist her head fully to the side. "How are you feeling?"

"Very odd," Seven said. "Discomfort, not pain. Tight around my torso. I cannot move."

"No," Janeway said, smiling. "Not for a few more days anyway. You're still healing."

Seven was suddenly afraid. "Am I ... what is my present condition?" she asked.

"Shh," Janeway soothed her, moving closer to rest her fingers on Seven's cheek. "It's all right, Annika. Your implant has been removed and everything's fine. The flesh on your abdomen and back is regenerating. The tightness you feel is the gel medipac encasing the area. It's part of the biobed so you really can't get up for awhile."

Seven considered that. "How much longer?" she asked.

"Three more days," the Kes interrupted then. "That's when we'll remove the medipac."

Seven started a bit. She had forgotten the hologram's presence. "Where is the Doctor?" she asked.

"He's down in engineering," the Kes answered promptly. "He wants Lt. Torres to reproduce his personal emitter so that I can move about the ship."

"Lt. Torres must be appropriately grateful for his assistance," Seven noted.

"I'm sure she is," the Kes replied brightly. "I have to update the files. If you'll excuse me." She nodded at them both and drifted off across sickbay to the office where she began to input data into the computer.

Seven glanced at Janeway, and saw that her partner had caught her attempt at sarcasm. It felt odd to be in a situation where there was someone even less aware of the concept than she. The captain bent down beside the young woman so she could whisper in her ear.

"It's not nice to tease the holograms, darling," she said.

"I will be here for three days," Seven noted in a low voice. "I will require some form of entertainment."

Janeway laughed and rested her chin lightly on Seven's forehead, closing her eyes. "You've been picking up my sense of humor, I believe," she said.

"Perhaps," Seven said. She closed her eyes. "Kathryn, you have been causing yourself damage. I do not require you to stay with me any longer. I would like you to return to our quarters and eat something before you go to bed," she said.

"Is that an order, Seven?" Janeway asked gently, but dangerously.

"Yes," Seven said.

"Annika, you can't keep me from worrying about you," Janeway told her. "I care too much."

Seven opened her eyes, looked up at her. "I know, but now you are causing me to worry about you," she responded.

There was a pause, then Janeway laughed again, low in her throat. "All right. I'll go home in a while," she promised. "But I'm going to stay here until you go to sleep."

"That will be acceptable," Seven said, knowing that it would not take long. Already she felt drowsiness stealing over her. "Sleep well, Kathryn."

"You too, my darling." It was the last thing Seven heard as she slipped into the welcoming darkness.

Janeway added some computations into her desk console, making a note of the time as she did so. Three more hours until shift rotation. As the captain, of course, she could log off any time she wanted, just as it was clear she was never really off duty, always on call, but the discipline instilled her at a young age, the workmanlike attitude shown by her parents and her mentors, kept her at her desk in her ready room even when she really wanted to be down in sickbay where Seven was recovering. She did have to admit to herself, the young woman was getting progressively crankier at her imposed inactivity. Janeway did not envy the Kes program who was constantly monitoring Seven's recovery. Sometimes the captain thought the Doctor had came up with the idea so he wouldn't have to deal with contrary patients. Instead, he was spending his time aggravating B'Elanna and Harry Kim.

The soft chime at her door made her raise her head, and she blanked her screen. "Come in," she said.

Lt. Commander Tuvok, her Vulcan security chief, entered the room. Tall, dark-skinned, with elegantly pointed ears, he was a somber figure and her close friend of many years, the person on the ship she had known the longest. Pleased, she got up and motioned him to the upper level of her ready room.

"Tuvok," she said. "Join me in a cup of coffee. What brings you in here?" She noted that he held no padds and since things had been relatively quiet for some time, she had not needed to consult with him lately, realizing that she missed his steady friendship.

"I have a serious matter to discuss with you, Captain," he said, sitting down gingerly in a chair.

"I see," she said. She took a seat on the couch and picked up the silver carafe which kept her coffee continually hot. He shook his head as she offered him some, and she poured the brew only into her own cup. With a quiet pleasure, she sipped the dark fluid before looking at him directly. "What is it?"

"It is about the Kes program," he began carefully. "I must object to its continuation."

Surprised, Janeway eyed him over the top of her cup. She took another sip and lowered it to her lap, wrapping her other hand around the smooth porcelain, warming them by its heat. "I have to say, I'm somewhat surprised," she said slowly. "I was under the impression that you and Kes got along well."

"She was my friend, Captain," Tuvok said, and Janeway knew what that meant. It was not something a Vulcan said lightly. "That hologram is not Kes."

"No, it isn't," Janeway agreed. She studied him carefully. "You have an objection to using her form?"

"There is a reason there are rules about using living personalities in holodeck simulations," Tuvok said. "It is easy for others, Humans in particular, to begin accepting such holograms as a true substitute for the person in question."

"And you think by having the hologram be in Kes's form, have it based on her personality profile, that it somehow dishonors her memory?" Janeway asked.

"Partly," Tuvok allowed. He raised an eyebrow. "Captain, do you believe the Doctor is sentient?"

Janeway hesitated. She had been about to answer in the affirmative immediately, almost without thinking. That gave her pause. She had never really discussed it with anyone before.

"I think so," she allowed slowly, turning the concept over in her mind, analyzing it with a scientific eye. "I believe he is capable of independent thought, that he is capable of learning. He has a right to his existence." She put her cup down on the coffee table and folded her hands on her lap. "You don't think so?"

"He is a hologram, Captain," Tuvok said evenly. "He is not considered to be alive by any regulation or law recognized by Starfleet or the Federation. If we were to return to the Alpha Quadrant tomorrow, it is entirely possible that he would be reprogrammed to reflect the current standards of the EMH systems, or simply deactivated. His matrix would definitely be decompiled if Voyager were to be taken out of service for whatever reason."

The Captain bent her head slightly, her lips thinning. "And your point, Tuvok?" she said gently. She knew Tuvok did not bring this up to be cruel or harsh. He was trying to make a very important contribution that he felt she was missing here.

"If he has indeed achieved sentience, Captain," Tuvok said, "it is entirely possible that the Kes program will as well."

"And you have an objection to holograms transcending their programming," Janeway asked, frowning.

"I have an objection to creating beings capable of sentience for the sole purpose of having them serve us," he said, finally making it clear enough for the captain to comprehend his meaning.

That was like a punch in the gut. Suddenly, Janeway's entire perception of the EMH and his assistant were turned upside down.

"You're suggesting that we're creating slaves," she said bleakly.

"Holograms are not lifeforms, Captain," he said. "They are created to serve a variety of purposes. They are used not just as EMH programs, but as a form of entertainment, as instruments of instruction, even as sexual surrogates. They are constructs of light and gravimetric elements which give them form and structure. They do not live. Yet, for whatever reason, I too, believe the Doctor has become sentient, has become a living being. When did that moment occur? Why did he become a lifeform rather than a construct? And what caused it?"

Janeway took a breath. "I don't know," she admitted. "How can any of us know?"

Tuvok stared at her with his steady, even gaze. "Do you remember the Omega molecule, Captain?" he asked. "What you said when we were staring into its light?"

"That the final frontier has some boundaries that shouldn't be crossed," she said. "You believe that this is one of those times."

"I am saying that it is entirely possible that we are acting somewhat irresponsibly here," he offered. "I am curious, Captain. Your Leonardo da Vinci program? On one occasion, his matrix was transferred to the mobile emitter, and he spent time on a planet exposed to an extremely high level of technology. You have run his program since then. Has the matrix altered in ways you have not expected?"

Janeway stared at her coffee cup, not wanting to answer him. "I removed the memories of his little adventure from the program," she admitted finally, shamefully. "He kept wanting to go to France, to create a flying machine. It was not the da Vinci I knew and wanted ... so I changed him back."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow, refusing to comment.

She looked at him with troubled eyes. "Is it possible I took away his sentience, his capacity to expand and grow? What right did I have to do that if indeed, he was on the verge of becoming ... alive?"

"It was not my intention to cause you anxiety," he said gently. "I only wished to voice my concerns about the course on which we are embarking."

Janeway leaned forward, covering her eyes with her hands. "Tuvok, you don't give me easy ones, do you?" she said wearily, voice muffled. She took her hands away, taking a breath. "What do you suggest? That we delete the Kes program?"

"I do not know, Captain," Tuvok said. "There appear to be no easy answers."

"That much I can agree with," she said. She patted his arm gently. "Thank you for coming to me, Tuvok. This is something that we need to address."

"I believe so, Captain," he said. He stood, then hesitated. "What is Seven's current condition?"

Janeway smiled at him. "She's coming along very well," she said as she walked him down the stairs, hand tucked comfortably under his arm, contrary to all protocols regarding Human/Vulcan relations. "The medipac is being removed today. Have you had a chance to see her?"

"I have stopped by on a few occasions," he said. "Her personality is suffering from a marked degree of steadily increasing impatience the longer she is confined."

"You noticed that too, did you?" Janeway said dryly. "She's never liked being helpless, and I can't say as I blame her."

"It is a difficult situation," he noted.

"In many ways," she agreed. She saw him to the door, then returned to the upper level of her ready room and her coffee. She stood and sipped it, staring pensively out at space, at the warp field which distorted the surrounding stars, making it appear as if they were passing by in long streaks of light. Her chief of security had given her much to think about.

The problem was, what was she going to do about it?

Seven stared mournfully at the sickbay ceiling. She was sore. She was tired. Most of all, she was bored. She knew Kathryn was on duty, but she wished the captain would come by to visit her anyway. She missed her when she wasn't there, and grew irritated with her when she was; though so far, Kathryn had worked very hard at not noticing. She did not mean to be irritated with Kathryn. She loved her, but it was aggravating that Kathryn was able to move about freely while Seven was forced to remain bound to this bed, even though it was not the captain's fault in the slightest.

"Seven, how are you feeling?" the Kes asked, hovering over her.

"The same way I did the last time you asked," Seven replied sullenly. "And the time before that."

"It won't be much longer," the Kes soothed.

"It has been entirely too long now," Seven grumbled.

"Seven, quit whining," a new voice said.

Seven craned her head around, trying to see the newcomer. "B'Elanna Torres," she identified, then protested grumpily. "I am not whining."

"I know whining," B'Elanna said as she moved to the side of the bed. "God knows, I heard it enough from Paris. You were whining."

Seven took a breath and counted to ten. It was a suggestion of Kathryn's. She did not find it eased her irritation at all, though arguing with B'Elanna would be a great deal more invigorating than talking to the Kes program. It merely smiled and agreed with everything she said which only increased her frustration. Even now, it promptly drifted off, giving way to the chief engineer, and forestalling Seven's anticipated pleasure in telling it to go away.

"Did you come to visit me?" Seven asked hopefully, looking back at the Klingon.

"No, I'm here to check out Kes's matrix," B'Elanna replied. "But I guess I can visit you for a few moments. You're being a real bitch today, huh?"

"I do not mean to," Seven said. She wondered what a bitch was and searched her memories. She frowned. "How do I resemble a female canine?"

B'Elanna laughed. "That wasn't what I meant," she said. "For the record, it wasn't a complaint either." She took a seat on the next biobed where Seven didn't have to twist her neck to see her. "I hear they're letting you out today."

"That is what the Doctor says," Seven said, anticipation coloring her tone. "They will remove the gel medipac and use dermal regenerators to heal the outer layer of skin."

"Well, there's something to look forward to," B'Elanna noted dryly. She looked at Seven. "Has the captain been in yet?"

"This morning before her duty shift," Seven said. She felt suddenly ashamed. "I was rude to her."

The Klingon snickered. "Yeah, what did you say?"

"I told her that I did not like her hair," she admitted. "I do not know why I said that. I always love her hair. It is beautiful."

"I'm sure she didn't take it personally," B'Elanna said in a gentler tone.

"I would," Seven said, dismayed. She looked at B'Elanna beseechingly. "Will you tell her that her hair is beautiful? They will not allow me to have a comm badge ... anymore."

"I think you can tell her yourself," B'Elanna said, grinning as the slight hiss of the door heralded the arrival of Voyager's captain.

Seven turned her head around. Janeway smiled as she approached the bed.

"Your hair is beautiful," Seven told her with great sincerity.

Startled, Janeway blinked, then offered her that soft look, the shy, surprised but very pleased one that Seven loved so dearly. "Thank you," she said. She nodded at B'Elanna. "Keeping my officer company, I see."

"She chased away everyone else," B'Elanna said. "But I like bitchy women ... being one myself."

"Ah," the Captain noted. She rested her hand casually on the bed, and none of them affected to notice when Seven entwined her fingers with those of the captain. "Where are we on the plasma relay refinements?"

"They're coming," B'Elanna said. She lowered her voice. "They'd come a lot faster if you'd get the Doctor out of my hair. He's down there now ragging on Vorik to work on the mobile emitter some more."

"I will have a word with the Doctor," the captain said, and there was an odd tone in her voice that caught Seven's attention. Curiously the younger woman looked at her partner. There was something bothering Kathryn, and Seven wondered what it was.

The captain looked down at her and smiled, squeezing her hand gently. "How are you feeling?"

Seven started to reply, stopped as she reconsidered what she had been about to say. Instead she just pressed her lips together, frowning slightly.

Janeway tilted her head slightly. "Seven?"

"I was going to be rude again," Seven admitted. "I do not want to be rude to you anymore."

Janeway considered that for a moment. "You do get asked that question a lot, don't you?" she said, comprehension lighting her eyes.

"It always has the same answer," Seven said miserably. "I feel the same. Discomfort, not pain. Tightness around my torso. I cannot move."

"I'm sorry, Seven," Janeway said compassionately. "It won't be for much longer."

"Everyone says that as well," Seven wailed. "It is an eternity."

"Oh my, she's learned to exaggerate, hasn't she?" B'Elanna prodded.

Seven glared at her. She did not notice she no longer felt miserable.

"When I am released," Seven said coldly, with precise deliberation. "I am going to strike you."

To her astounded dismay, B'Elanna laughed. "You'll have to catch me when I'm not looking," she warned amiably. "'Cause if I see you coming, I'll knock you flat on your ass, Borg."

Janeway cleared her throat. "I don't believe I need to hear my crewmembers threatening each other with physical violence," she said pointedly.

The Doctor materialized suddenly, looking at them all with great cheerfulness. Seven had noted a marked improvement in his personality since the Kes program had been initiated. She wondered why.

"Captain. Are you here for the great unveiling?" he said, beaming at Janeway.

"That's my cue to go work on Kes," B'Elanna offered, sliding off the bed she had been sitting on. "I'll run the diagnostics in your office, Doc."

"All right," he agreed. He immediately dismissed the engineer from his mind, not looking at her as he peered at Seven's midsection under the sheet. "This shouldn't take long, Seven, but first we need a little privacy."

He activated a force field about the immediate area, solid sheets of blue light that enclosed them, concealing the three from any outside eyes that might happen by. "Captain, if you could move to the head of the bed, I'll get started on the gel pac." He leaned forward and added confidentially, just as if Seven's head was not lying directly between the two officers. "Try to keep her occupied. She really shouldn't see this."

Seven looked at Janeway in alarm, and the captain patted her shoulder soothingly as she moved to the end of the table. "He's joking," she told her.

"It is not funny," Seven snapped.

"Everyone's a critic," he muttered as he bent over Seven's midsection, draining the fluid from the medipac encasing the young woman's torso, then using a laser scalpel to carefully slice down each side of it, peeling it back from the raw flesh.

Janeway took the sheet from the bottom of the bed and draped it modestly over Seven's chest as the upper portions were cut away, keeping eye contact with Seven. "Seven, try to be patient," she murmured gently.

"I will try," Seven replied testily.

She felt strange as the pac was removed from her and her freedom of motion returned. Everything was oddly numb between her hips and her shoulders and she flexed experimentally, trying to figure out what exactly was different.

"Stay still, Seven," the Doctor ordered as he washed away the remains of gelatinous fluid from her torso. He ran a dermal regenerator over her abdomen, then with Janeway's assistance, rolled Seven over, and repeated the process on her back.

Seven was unable to see much of what was going on, Janeway being very conscientious about keeping the sheet between her eyes and the rest of her body. Seven would have been irritated, but for the fact she was too excited at being able to move again. Finally, they returned her to her back and helped her sit up. Janeway draped the sheet around her shoulders and Seven eagerly looked down at her abdomen.

She was appalled.

"What is this?" she asked, her finger shaking as she pointed at the area just above her pubic mound.

"It's your navel, Seven," Janeway said with gentle puzzlement.

"No, that," she said. "The indentation."

Janeway blinked. "Your belly button?"

"My what?"

"What's the problem here?" the Doctor said testily. "You perfer an outie?"

Seven just stared at him, confused. "It is a scar," she said. "Why did you leave such an apparent flaw in my flesh?" She looked at Janeway who had the expression on her face that Seven had learned to recognize as an attempt to conceal amusement.

"Seven, it's not a scar," she said gently.

"Well, technically, it is a scar," the Doctor corrected. "It's where the umbilical cord was attached when you were born, but everyone keeps it, Seven."

Seven blinked. "Everyone maintains it?" she asked the captain anxiously. "Not just you?"

Janeway shook her head. "No, Seven," she said. "I am not unique in this respect. Did you really think I was?"

"I asked you where you got it," Seven reminded her. "You said it happened when you were born. You did not tell me it was an affectation everyone kept."

"Clearly an oversight on my part," Janeway noted dryly.

"Does it hurt?" Seven asked, studying hers with concern. "You always make an odd sound and move away when I touch yours, so I try not to touch it." She looked up quickly to see Janeway blushing and the Doctor smirking. "What?"

Janeway hesitated. "I move away because I'm ticklish, Seven," she admitted quietly, and glared at the Doctor who was staring at the ceiling with great interest.

"Ticklish?" Seven was confused again. "What is that?"

"You've never tickled her?" the Doctor said with disbelief, dropping his head to stare at the Captain.

"I didn't think it was anything she needed to know," Janeway said frostily.

The Doctor hesitated, then nodded, as if understanding. "You're very ticklish, aren't you, Captain," he said knowingly. "Were you tickled a lot as a child?"

The Captain sighed. "Phoebe was unmerciful," she revealed with great reluctance. "She always won all the physical confrontations because she would just tickle me and I'd be helpless to do anything even though I was much bigger than she was."

"You don't like feeling helpless, do you, Captain?" he asked sympathetically.

She eyed him suspiciously. "You've been incorporating psychiatric sub-routines in your programming again, haven't you?"

Caught, he assumed an injured air. "I am just attempting to make myself more useful to this ship," he said.

The Captain abruptly looked stricken. "You are a very important member of this crew, Doctor," she said in an oddly intent tone.

Seven was watching all this with confusion. There were so many subtle levels of communication going on here she couldn't even begin to figure them all out. Nor, if she were to be honest, did she want to. There was only one thing concerning her.

"May I leave now?" she asked.

Janeway and Seven materialized in the bedroom of their quarters. Seven was dressed in the blue robe she had left with, and she huddled in it as she looked around with an expression of relief.

"I want to take a bath," she announced.

Janeway smiled. "I think that can be arranged," she offered. She studied the younger woman closely. "Are you able to walk, Seven? Do you feel dizzy?"

"I am functioning acceptably," Seven said as she tottered toward the bathroom, a distinct tilt to her stride. "Will you take a bath with me?"

"That can be arranged, as well," Janeway said with a smile as she tracked her partner's progress with a mix of concern and amusement, ready to catch her at any sign of toppling.

Once in the bathroom, Janeway made sure Seven was leaning safely against the counter, then keyed the controls to fill the large tub which dominated the ensuite, adjusting the temperature and depth with careful judiciousness. She retrieved a bath oil that she knew was Seven's favorite and poured it into the water, the bubbles forming immediately to give off a fresh, woodsy fragrance. That done, she turned to look at her partner, startled as she saw Seven had removed her robe and was now gazing into the large mirror above the sink counter, studying her reflection with intent interest.

"Annika?" Janeway asked softly, coming up to stand at the young woman's shoulder, looking into the ice-blue eyes that were reflecting confusion. "Is anything wrong?"

"I am different," Seven said in an odd tone, flat, without inflection.

"You are wonderful," Janeway assured her warmly.

Gingerly Seven touched her abdomen, spreading her fingers apart as she lay her hand flat against the muscled stomach. "It feels strange," she said.

"How so?" the captain asked, watching her in the mirror.

"Empty," Seven whispered. She struggled to find the words. "I feel ... light. Not as solid as before."

"You have lost about ten kilos of implant," Janeway reminded her gently.

Seven turned, trying to keep her eyes on the mirror as she rotated, peeking at her back before facing the glass once more. "I resemble you now," she said.

"Does that bother you?" Janeway asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Seven said. "You are beautiful." Her gaze met Janeway's in the mirror. "Do you think I am beautiful?"

"Beyond words," Janeway said softly. "I have always thought so."

"Will you touch me?" Seven's voice was small, uncertain.

"Darling, that's something you never have to ask," Janeway told her with a loving smile. "It's something I always want to do."

Carefully, she put her hands on Seven's shoulder blades, and lightly slid her palms down the long, sinuous back, amazed at how silky it was, though in retrospect, she realized it was completely new, freshly regenerated. The skin on her hands was almost rough in comparison, the texture a marked contrast to Seven's new covering. Slowly, Janeway ran her fingers all over the new flesh, stoking the spine, seeking out and tracing the definition of newly formed muscles. She looked in the mirror, smiling as she saw that Seven was observing their reflection closely, watching as she was caressed by the captain, as if on a viewscreen.

Janeway gentled her touch, slowing it, becoming sensual as she felt Seven respond to her, arching into her fingers slightly. Kathryn ran her hands lightly over Seven's torso, sliding around to stroke her firm abdomen, circling the tiny indentation of her navel, then back to the sides, tracing the ribs. She could see the rosy nipples of Seven's full breasts swell and harden, and she had a strong desire to touch them which she immediately repressed. Slowly, she told herself, watching the reflection with a heavy-lidded gaze.

"This is ... intriguing," Seven whispered, fascinated by the view in the mirror before her, by the incredibly erotic spectacle of the captain in full uniform running her hands liberally over the Borg's nude body.

"It is," Kathryn said huskily, surprised at how much she agreed, at how aroused she was becoming, feeling the corresponding surge in her own body as her nipples hardened almost painfully against her sweater, the unmistakable flood of moisture between her legs.

She swallowed, focusing her efforts on Seven, stroking the narrow hips, then back up to the new flesh, fingers slipping easily along the satin skin. She could not get over how responsive it was, noting the goose bumps raised by her passage, thinking that the Doctor had done excellent work. Her fingertips traced over the two small implants remaining at the bottom of Seven's back, nestled into each of the dual dimples. One, Janeway knew, was tied into Seven's bladder while the other sent tendrils into the Borg's lower intestine, continuing to remove the toxins from her body, though for how much longer was a mystery. The Doctor intended to keep a close eye on their function, aware that the solid food Seven was now required to ingest was a far more difficult matter for the implants to process than energy taken directly from the ship would be.

Janeway leaned forward and kissed the top of Seven's spine, tracing the line of bumpy ridges of bone up the back of her neck, nibbling gently the entire way. She felt Seven take a deep breath, the young blond's arms braced as she leaned against the counter, her hands gripping the edge tightly.

"I never ... it did not occur to me that ... watching would be so ... stimulating," Seven murmured unsteadily.

"It engages one more sense," Kathryn said softly, as she traced every square millimeter of Seven's new form. She kissed the shoulder blade, flicking her tongue out to lick it, tasting the salt-sweet flavor of her lover, then spread her fingers over the abdomen, and pressed her body against Seven from behind. "Spread your legs," she requested quietly into the blond's ear.

Seven caught her breath, and obligingly slid her heels apart, bare feet slipping over the tile floor, granting her partner full access. The captain slid her fingertips along the inside of each thigh, teasing Seven with feather light strokes, tracing over the back of her legs, down to the soft skin at the back of her knees before retracing the same path with indulgent pleasure.

"Kathryn," Seven moaned, shivering as she tried to keep her eyes open, tried to keep them locked on the reflection in the mirror.

"My love," Kathryn whispered, trying to keep control over her own responses as she explored and caressed her partner. "Do you know how incredible you are?" she told her. "How very much you mean to me?"

She reached around and cupped Seven's breasts, raising them as if offering them to Seven's reflection, then slid her hands up to cover them, the voluptuous mounds spilling over her grasp, feeling the sharp points of flesh jab into her palms. She used her fingers to pull on the nipples gently, rolling and squeezing them while she watched in the mirror, mesmerized by the sight of her own hands fondling Seven.

Seven gasped as Janeway tenderly massaged her breasts, fingers white as she grasped the counter. An ominous creaking began beneath the mesh-covered left hand, a sound they both ignored, totally caught up in what they were doing, what they were feeling. Seven trembled as the captain brought one hand down from the young woman's chest, sliding down to the Borg's hip and over the firm buttocks, grasping one firmly, massaging it before sliding down the back of her right leg, then drifting inside to the baby-soft skin of her inner thigh.

Janeway caught her breath as she traced her fingers through the moisture gathering there, astounded by how wet Seven had become, at how far the woman's essence had spread down the inside of her thighs. She stroked gently in the searing heat of Seven's center, bumping over the hard little ridge of desire before slipping down to the opening. Easily, she slipped a finger into the taller woman, pressing deeply inside, twisting within her until she was able to add a second finger, and Seven cried out incoherently, leaning hard against the counter. Kathryn kept her eyes locked on the reflection, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of her lover as she writhed and shuddered beneath her caresses. Seven's eyes were slitted, glittering a deep blue as she became completely lost in what she was experiencing, almost animalistic, a sound midway between a purr and a growl issuing from her full lips drawn back to expose the white flash of gritted teeth. She had never looked more wanton, more desirable.

Kathryn brought her other hand down Seven's front, stroking the soft swell of newly formed belly, scratching luxuriously in the tangle of fine blond hair before dipping down to rub over the hard little center slippery with creamy lubrication, swirling her fingertips over it with easy pressure, then firmer as her lover responded, pushing against her. Seven threw her head back, trembling, legs unsteady as she moaned Kathryn's name over and over again with joy and pleasure, eyes closing as she could no longer fight the sensations sweeping through her. Kathryn felt her fingers grasped in a restrictive velvet embrace, pulsations squeezing them in rhythmic fashion until finally, slowly, Seven surrendered, head falling forward to rest against the cool glass as a deep sob shook her helplessly. Shaken herself, Kathryn slowed her caresses, withdrawing gently to wrap her arms around Seven's waist, holding her lovingly as she rested her cheek against the smooth back.

"Annika," she said comfortingly. "It's all right. I'm right here, love."

Dazedly, she realized she was still completely in uniform, still fully dressed and that behind them, the tub had finished filling, the water still maintaining its temperature by the internal heaters, steam rising slightly, though the bubbles had long since dissipated. She shuddered, closing her eyes as she hugged Seven closely.

"I was afraid that I would not ... feel your touch anymore," Seven whispered, and Janeway could hear the tears in her voice. Looking up, she could see them sliding down the blond's cheeks. "But I can. I feel so much now."

"I'm glad, my love," the captain said softly, hugging her tightly. "I'm so glad."

Seven took a breath, bringing her hands off the counter to put them over Janeway's which were linked at the younger woman's navel. "I am glad as well," she said, opening her eyes to meet Kathryn's concerned gaze in the mirror. "I want to always feel this way."

Janeway glanced at the deep indentations Seven's left hand had made in the duranium counter top and thought privately that might not be such a good idea. If Seven had felt any more, they might not have a ship left.

Seven tilted her head slightly as she regarded Janeway's reflection. "You still have your clothes on," she noted with unfailing accuracy.

Janeway smiled, relieved as Seven seemed more herself. "I suppose you would like me to take them off?" she asked dryly.

"Unless you can take a bath like that?" Seven turned to her, sliding her arms around her and pulling her close, uniform and all.

Janeway snuggled deep in the embrace, feeling flushed and sticky beneath her outfit. "I already have," she said, feeling the moisture between her legs. "You make me so wet, my love."

"I can make you wetter," Seven offered.

"Oh, I don't think you can," Janeway responded playfully, looking up at her.

The next thing Janeway knew, she was being picked up in strong arms and deposited into the tub, uniform and all. Where she was unquestionably a great deal wetter.

Seven woke in a panic, gasping for breath. She took a split-second to realize that Kathryn was lying on top of her, sprawled heavily across her chest and stomach in the smaller woman's favorite sleeping position. Previously, where Seven had been able to easily bear the full burden of an adult Human female resting on her, the abdominal implant acting as a support, now the young woman could not breathe, feeling smothered by the weight. She pushed at Kathryn desperately, trying to move her, feeling weak and quite helpless, forgetting that she still maintained a great deal of her superior physical strength.

The resulting heave catapulted Janeway off the bed and onto the floor with an audible thud, the captain landing on her knees and elbows with an outraged grunt of surprise and dismay. Seven drew in long gulps of cool air with gratitude, only marginally aware of her flustered partner calling for lights and dragging herself up the side of the bed, looking at her in astounded aggravation.

"What the hell was that?" Janeway yelped, hair mussed, eyes still wide, the whites showing around the blue-grey irises, still shaken at having been awakened in the midst of the mid-air parabola a mere instant before colliding with the deck.

"I could not breathe," Seven explained. "You were lying on top of me."

Janeway took an exasperated breath and pulled herself up the rest of the way onto the bed. "Why didn't you just roll me off?" she asked waspishly, sitting up as she anxiously examined her newly forming bruises. "Or better yet, just nudge me awake, and I would have moved."

Seven felt embarrassed. "I did," she said in a shamed voice. "I did not realize I was still so strong."

Janeway considered that and gradually softened her expression, looking at Seven tolerantly. "I suppose you're right, Annika," she relented. "I should have remembered you're not wearing armor plating anymore." Gingerly she slid back under the covers, snuggling up against her lover once more.

Seven felt the captain's body press against her side and carefully, she put her arm around the captain's back, feeling Kathryn's head rest on her shoulder. This was acceptable, she considered. The arm resting on her chest was a great deal lighter than Kathryn's entire body. The captain brought down the lights again so that they were lying in a comfortable, dim illumination.

"I am sorry I threw you out of bed," Seven said with honest contriteness.

Janeway made an odd sound, a strangled sort of laugh. "I've heard of it," she said. "I never thought I would actually see it happen, especially to me."

Seven didn't know what that meant exactly, but she was glad that Kathryn was laughing rather than being angered. She doubted she would have been as understanding were positions reversed, though it was highly unlikely Janeway could throw her anywhere near as high, or as far.

"Are you hurt?" Seven asked.

"No," Janeway yawned. "Though I am not recommending it as a good way to wake up." She was silent for a few moments, then shifted. "Darling, if I go to sleep like this I'll be right back on top of you before morning." She rolled over and snuggled back against Seven who obligingly wrapped herself around her. "Hmm, that's much better."

Seven thought so too, surprised and pleased at the sensation of Kathryn's back against her stomach, at the way the soft swell of buttocks fit so perfectly into her groin. While the implant had made it possible to bear the captain's weight, it had also prevented her from getting so close. Seven decided that this was a definite improvement. Certainly, the hour Janeway had spent massaging Seven's newly formed back with a light oil prior to their falling asleep, had made it clear that there were other advantages to no longer having a metal corset between her and her lover.

Intrigued, Seven pressed tighter against Kathryn, putting her hand on the captain's stomach and pulling her back even closer to her. Janeway sighed and reached back a hand, patting Seven on the hip drowsily. Seven brushed away the fine auburn hair, exposing Kathryn's ear, which she proceeded to nuzzle, tracing it with the tip of her tongue.

"Mmmm, you got some nerve, wench" Janeway murmured in the dark. "First, you throw me out of bed, then you try to get amorous."

"What is a 'wench'?" Seven asked softly, bending her head to kiss the top of Kathryn's shoulder, nibbling along the soft skin.

Kathryn chuckled. "Too long to explain," she said.

"Do you wish me to stop?"

"I didn't say that," Kathryn said in a low voice, and Seven could hear the smile in it.

"I'm glad," Seven responded in a low voice. "Because I do not want to stop. I want to make love to you."

She stroked the captain's upper chest lightly, feeling her heartbeat under her fingertips, then lazily ran her palm over the small breasts, back and forth, feeling the nipples harden sweetly beneath her caress. She loved Kathryn's body, how responsive it was to her. Especially this area, so sensitive, pleasing her lover so much when she caressed here.

Kathryn moaned and put her head back, exposing her throat and neck, and Seven kissed along the smooth line of it, up to where the jawline began, to the soft skin just under the earlobe. Gently, she slid her hand down over the soft swell of the captain's abdomen, taking time to notice how differently structured it was for all its similarities, rounder, less muscled than her own. She slid her finger into the indentation at the navel, wiggled it a bit even as Kathryn squirmed in protest. Now that Seven realized that exploring it did not cause her lover pain, she wanted to know exactly what response touching it did cause.

"Seven, do you want to end up sleeping on the couch?" Janeway warned in a low voice.

Seven promptly removed her finger from Kathryn's belly button, and ran her hand over the sharp bone of the captain's hip, down the leg and back up over the tummy to resume her caresses of the little breasts, firmer now in her intent, swirling her fingertip around the areola, feeling it pebble beneath her touch. She caught the nipple between forefinger and thumb, rolling it gently, then went over to the other breast and repeated the caress.

Kathryn sighed and pressed back against her, reaching up to entwine her fingers in Seven's left hand which was resting on the pillow, the blond's arm lying under the captain's neck against the bed. Seven was careful to tighten her grip only a little, aware that the mesh could easily damage the more fragile flesh of Kathryn's hand which lay in her grasp like the most delicate of treasures. She was always moved by the fact that the captain did not avoid her implants while making love. It indicated a complete trust that Seven would not hurt her, despite past instances when she inadvertently had, and it filled the Borg with a profound tenderness.

"Mmm, I love this," Kathryn whispered, pressing sinuously back against her as Seven continued to pay loving attention to her breasts. "I love how you touch me."

"I love touching you," Seven responded quietly in her ear, kissing it gently, teasing it with her tongue. "It is my greatest joy."

Finally, after long moments, she left the breasts to slip her hand down over the abdomen again and tangled her fingers in the fine, auburn hair at the juncture of Kathryn's legs. Seven could not quite access below that, only able to slide the very tip of one finger into the wetness at the top of the crease. She judged this to be inefficient, and with a sudden motion, she rolled onto her back, carrying Kathryn with her.

"Oh goodness," Kathryn said, startled as her legs were parted abruptly by Seven's, opening her up to her partner's exploring fingers. "What about your breathing?"

"I am breathing fine," Seven replied, not particularly caring as she fondled Kathryn with gentle fingertips. She released the captain's hand, hugging the compact form to her, and carefully used her left implant to stroke Kathryn's nipples, the cool metal a contrast to the velvet heat of tender flesh.

"Whatever works, my love," Kathryn said huskily. She groaned as Seven found the moist ridge of need, fingers rubbing over it with gentle but insistent pressure. "Oh yes, darling. This feels so good."

Seven increased the intensity of her caress, sliding up and down, using more of her hand against the moist flesh, bathing in the heat and wetness. She felt her breathing quicken in tandem with Kathryn's, feeling her own need increase in response to that of her lover. Then, without thinking, she reached further down between Kathryn's legs and touched herself, jerking in surprise at the sensation that shot through her. Intrigued, she began to alternate, touching herself and Kathryn with long, slow strokes, taking Kathryn's wetness to herself, bringing her own up to mingle with that of her lover.

"Oh god, Annika," Kathryn said, understanding what was happening and judging from her voice, even further aroused by it. "That feels so good. Don't stop."

"I will not," Seven assured her, amazed and confused by what was happening but very willing to find out where it would go. She balled her left hand into a fist, keeping her arm across the captain's chest but leaving the implant well away from Janeway's body.

"Oh dear god," Kathryn moaned. "Oh Annika, this is so good."

The captain reached down with her own hands, sharing Seven's caresses, panting as their hips moved together against their fingers, both losing track of who was touching whom, of which hand was causing the sensation, feeling as one body, one form responding to one caress.

Seven had moved beyond thought, beyond coherence, only feeling the incredible sensations that were going through her, amazed and aroused even more as she realized Kathryn was experiencing exactly the same thing at the same time. She gasped, moaning and sighing in her passion, hearing the sounds echoed by Kathryn as they moved together, undulating and shuddering. Then, suddenly, they were there at the same time, somehow never ceasing their caresses as they drove through the climax as one being, crying out loudly, voices mingling in a harmony of pleasure and joy as they arched and finally collapsed.

For long moments, they lay there in the dark shadows, both trying to catch their breath.

"Oh my god," Kathryn said. Whether a prayer or just a comment, Seven was unsure.

"I cannot breathe," Seven noted weakly. With the last of her strength, she rolled them back over to their sides, gasping as she lay beside her lover, incapable of moving any further.

Finally Kathryn bent down and kissed the arm draped over her chest. "That," she said with firm assurance. "Was incredible."

"It was..." Seven searched for the proper word. "Different." Inadequate but for some reason she was finding it hard to think clearly.

Kathryn laughed softly. "Oh, yes," she said. She stroked Seven's bicep gently, tracing the implant there. "We've never made love like that. Not at the same time."

"It would have been ... unwise," Seven noted. "I might have hurt you."

"But you didn't," Kathryn pointed out.

"No," Seven said, pleased. "I did not."

"Annika?"

"Yes?"

"I'm very glad you woke me up."

Seven made an abrupt sound and understood that it was a snicker, surprising both herself and Kathryn somewhat. Perhaps she was getting a grasp on this humor concept after all.

"I am very glad I woke you up, as well," she said huskily, hugging her tightly. "However, I will try not to throw you across the room anymore."

"Well, that part I can do without," Kathryn admitted. She made a happy little murmur in her throat. "But the rest ... that was simply wonderful."

"Yes," Seven agreed. She tightened her embrace as Kathryn snuggled back against her once more. "Kathryn," she whispered. "I love you."

Kathryn purred. "I love you too, Annika," she told her sleepily. "Forever."

Seven kissed her shoulder. "Do you want to make love again?"

Kathryn laughed. "Darling, I have duty in..." she paused, raising her head slightly as she checked the time on the chronometer across the room. "Oh heavens, three hours. I'm going to unload a bomb in the staff meeting, so I really do need some sleep."

"All right," Seven said, somewhat relieved. She was tired as well but she thought it only polite to offer. Usually, she never felt tired like this. She must still be feeling the effects of her surgical procedure, she thought. "What 'bomb'?"

"Uh un," Janeway warned drowsily. "That's a captain thing. You'll have to wait too."

"Oh," Seven said. "All right. Good night, Kathryn."

"Good night, my love," Kathryn murmured, and fell asleep in Seven's arms.

Captain Janeway leaned back in her chair in the conference room as she supervised the staff meeting. One was normally held every three days to go over ship's business, discuss problems and projects, and come up with solutions or new plans of action. She could not remember how she used to handle them prior to being lost in the Delta Quadrant, but she had a feeling that it was different from this loosely structured, free-for-all where anyone could speak up, and frequently did. Of course, back then the staff was purely Starfleet. Aside from herself and Tuvok, the only other Starfleet member here was Harry Kim, and he had been fresh from the Academy when he had joined this ship. He really didn't know that these meetings did not follow strict protocol.

Neelix was in the middle of giving his mess hall status report, affording Janeway the opportunity to look around, knowing her padd would record every word he said. She noticed that Chakotay and B'Elanna were now making a point of sitting together, very often getting lost in their own murmured conversations as Neelix droned on and on. She favored them with a stern glance, before feeling other eyes upon her.

She looked up to see Seven regarding her intently from the far end of the table, her eyepiece raised delicately. Amusement colored her expression, and Janeway frowned faintly, warning her partner that she hadn't won this particular battle, not quite yet. The captain shifted her gaze to Tom Paris who was staring at the two ex-Maquis, frowning as if just now realizing that it wasn't merely a matter of getting back into B'Elanna's good graces. He now had the first officer to contend with.

Janeway stifled a sigh. That could mean trouble. Chakotay and Tom had not started off well on Voyager, and it had taken some time before the two men had arrived at a sort of truce. This could cause the antagonism they had buried to flare up again. Seated beside Tom, the Doctor was leaning back in his chair, obviously not listening to a word Neelix was saying, arms crossed, eyes distant as he thought holographic thoughts.

She wondered what he did think about. Did he dream? Did he wonder where his existence was going? Did he think he was real? In any event, as soon as Neelix completed his report, she'd find out. That was when she was going to lay the Kes situation onto the table. She had no doubt that he would have a great deal to say about the issue.

Neelix finally finished his report, and sat down next to Tuvok who had been listening impassively. She knew the Vulcan had an idea about what she was going to say. If nothing else, their long time friendship afforded him the ability to know that she had something in mind just from her body language, which was a little more formal than usual. He would pick up on that.

"Thank you, Neelix," she said graciously. She folded her hands before her on the table, leaning forward as she regarded all of them intently. "Before we conclude today's session, something else has been brought to my attention. It is an issue that I will require all of your input on before I make a final decision."

She had their complete and undivided attention, all of them staring at her with interest.

"The Kes program, while fulfilling its initial purpose, raises serious concerns about the ethical responsibilities we have about creating holograms in the form of missing friends and family. It also raises the question whether such a hologram may follow the Doctor's path to sentience, and if so, what right do we have to create such beings for the sole purpose of them serving us? Are we creating slaves or indentured servants? Would it be in the best interests of this ship, and the Kes hologram itself, to delete its matrix?"

She took a quiet breath. With the exception of Tuvok, she knew she had absolutely confounded them. Like her, judging by their various expressions, none of them had given much thought to this issue before, and now that she had slapped it on the table in front of them, they looked at it as if it were an unexploded photon torpedo; one that could go off with merely an incautious breath.

B'Elanna was the first to speak, prefacing it with an unamused laugh. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I spent a hell of a lot of time and effort working on that matrix," she said. "Now you just want to ... delete it?"

Her words seem to open the floodgate.

"It is just a hologram," Harry pointed out, looking at this as purely a technical problem, perhaps because he had helped build the matrix. "It was created for a purpose, and now that purpose had been served. Maybe we should delete it ... or at least, deactivate it when we're not using it. It does take up a significant amount of ship's resources."

"I need Kes," the Doctor objected frostily. "I have no one else capable of providing the assistance she does. You can't deactivate her."

"I know my opinion might not be as important here, Captain," Neelix offered. "However, it's always sort of bothered me that Kes's form was the one being used for this ... 'assistant'. I think an assistant for the Doctor is a good idea, but why does it have to be Kes?"

B'Elanna raised an eyebrow. "If we can build a duplicate mobile emitter, just like the Doctor's, she'll be able to leave sickbay,  move around the ship ... even go planetside if she has to," she said, countering Harry. "It would also cut back on the power she uses."

"That may be what contributes to it becoming sentient," Tuvok noted coolly. "Expanding the program, allowing it more access to information, exposing it to outside extraneous data, may allow it to cross the line into sentience just as the Doctor has. By what right are we creating these beings to serve us? By doing so for some, and not all, are we denying the rest the knowledge and data to allow them to become sentient? How can we treat some holograms as living creatures, and use others as a form of entertainment? Are you prepared to stop using the holodeck?"

"Is the Doctor sentient?" Chakotay asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" The Doctor looked coldly at the first officer.

"Are you?" Chakotay insisted. "Or do you just think you are within the parameters of your programming? Do you have a soul, Doctor? How does one measure that?"

The Doctor rose up in his seat, obviously outraged, and Janeway raised her hand, stilling his motion. Frowning, he settled back into his chair. "Chakotay is just asking the questions that must be asked," she said, supporting her first officer. "This is an issue we must address. Certainly, it's one we haven't dealt with in a concrete fashion before."

"I think Tuvok could be right," B'Elanna said. "The Doctor's program expanded considerably when he started using the mobile emitter. Until then, he was completely dependent on Voyager, and its database, in order to function. He was purely a technical being, existing at the whim of the ship's power resources, just as Kes is, right now. Without it, she may never transcend her programming."

"That's possible," Chakotay agreed. "If a better existence is not shown to the Kes program, then she may be quite content to remain nothing more than a hologram functioning periodically in sickbay."

"But is it right?" Tom objected suddenly, looking directly at the captain, and avoiding the eyes of the Klingon across the table. "We're not just talking about a character in a holonovel anymore. The Kes program will be functioning as an active member of the crew. What happens if we keep this program running, and she starts to realize limitations like being stuck in sickbay forever. To see something that others have and know she can't? To always being on the outside looking in? How can we deny her the right to a better existence once we know it's possible?"

"You're talking about the quality of life, now," Chakotay said. "Not life itself. We still haven't established that holograms have a life."

"I assure you Commander, I am very much alive," the Doctor put in, his tone aggravated.

Tom leaned forward. "I accept that I am alive, that I have an essence that gives me life, that something ethereal makes me who I am," he said. "However, that was something I was taught, based on self-serving evidence. It becomes a matter of faith. If the Doctor also believes that he's alive because of the same type of faith, how is it any different?"

"Are we saying that Kes isn't considered sentient now, but that she might be down the line?" B'Elanna asked, trying to simplify things. "Are we establishing that?"

"Not necessarily," Harry objected, purely as a point of debate. "She knows she's a hologram, she knows she has been created to be the Doctor's assistant. Does that not already make her self-aware? Don't forget, like the Doctor who was based on the algorithms of a Human named Dr. Zimmerman, the assistant was also based on a living personality profile. Everything we knew about Kes, all her logs, including the personal ones, even her transporter pattern, has gone into her matrix. Maybe any hologram that is created that way, that is created to know exactly what it truly is in relation to the greater universe around it, is being created as sentient. She does more than merely process data. She's designed to act upon that data, to learn from it. She's been learning since the second we activated her."

"That data is accessed directly from the ship, as is her matrix," B'Elanna objected. "I'm not hearing anyone say Voyager is alive. The Doctor's program became independent when he got the portable emitter, because he became independent of the ship, no longer part of its systems. He can be completely cut off from the ship's data banks and still be able to operate, to think, to learn and to make conclusions based on just the data he processes from the world around him. It hasn't been proved that the Kes program can do that." She frowned. "I wish I knew what the status of holograms are in the 29th century. That would give us a clue as to whether the portable emitter we got was designed to grant sentience to them."

Janeway nodded then. "That's a good point, Lieutenant," she said. "Perhaps by allowing ourselves to access technology from the future, we unwittingly committed a grave ethical breach as well as a temporal one. Perhaps we are dealing with something we're just not ready for yet. Something that not even the Doctor, or any hologram is ready for yet."

"No one's getting my emitter!" the Doctor said with alarm and Janeway was forced to favor him with a calming glance.

"No one's going to take your emitter," she soothed. "We are just accepting the fact that we are presently dealing with the consequences of past actions from accepting a future technology." She thought about her last statement and felt the first throbbing of a headache at her temples. She hated temporal anomalies and did her absolute best to avoid them whenever possible. So why did she have to keep dealing with them?

"Shall we accept that the Doctor is sentient?" Tuvok said then, trying to keep the discussion from being bogged down entirely.

There was a silence and with a sinking feeling, Janeway realized that not even this particular point was agreed upon by every one in this room. How did the greater part of the ship feel, and by extension, how would the rest of Starfleet feel? And the Federation? She took a breath, pausing a moment to gather her thoughts.

"When you were first activated, Doctor, your first concern was over how to control the activation sequence of your program. Crewmembers were either turning you off against your wishes, or leaving you active with no way to shut yourself down. I admit, I was one of the worst offenders in ending your program whenever you annoyed or irritated me. It was Kes that showed me that I was perhaps out of line, but by giving you that measure of control over your own destiny, perhaps that is what started this whole thing. There have been several occasions where you have been forced into situations that no holo-programmer could have foreseen, usually at my command, and for better or worse, all those incidents were markers on the path that has led you to where you are today. I can't go back and change any of my decisions, nor would I want to. I have no regrets or qualms about how you've developed. I feel you are a person, Doctor, a valuable crewmember, and a good friend."

"I am prepared to grant the Doctor sentience on my authority as ship's captain," she added somberly, swallowing a sardonic grin as they all looked at her, startled.

Just add it to all the rest of the monumental decisions I've had to make over the past four years, she mused. She wondered briefly just how extensive her court martial would be when she finally returned to face the music in the Alpha Quadrant. At this point, she believed she would be long dead before the charges were completely figured out, and she would actually have to face any Board of Inquiry.

"He thinks, he reasons, he deducts, he is independent of the ship," she said gravely. "He learns from his actions and I truly believe, he feels not only for his patients, but for himself. Whether it be the result of his emitter granting him independence, or some unknown, mystical reason we will never be permitted to discover, he is a living being, a sentient soul. From this moment on, it will be officially logged as such, and he shall receive all the rights and privileges of any crewmember. The question is, do we allow another hologram to follow that path? Do we have the right to make that decision for her now that she has been activated?"

She took a breath and looked up. The Doctor seemed astounded, yet tremendously gratified as if he had just been granted a miracle. For all she knew, he had. I am God, she thought with a certain amount of dismay. Too bad Starfleet didn't mention that when they awarded me the extra pip.

Chakotay looked troubled but seemed willing to hold his tongue. So did Tom to a lesser extent. Well, at least that was one thing they have in common, she thought with gallows humor.

Neelix looked a little confused as if unsure what all this meant exactly, while Harry was nodding slightly, as if he approved completely. Tuvok was, of course, impassive while Seven mimicked his demeanor which was something she did when she didn't quite understand everything that was going on, but knew it was exceptionally important. Janeway wished she could speak with her, get her thoughts but Seven had acquired a habit of not speaking much in staff meetings. She preferred to observe and talk over her impressions with the captain later, not wanting to contradict Janeway in public anymore.

Janeway became suddenly aware of B'Elanna looking at her skeptically, an eyebrow raised. "You realize, of course," the chief engineer said. "This means if I inadvertently delete his matrix during his next diagnostic, you'll have to try me for murder. Or at the very least, manslaughter."

"Think of it as just a little added incentive," the Doctor said with smug satisfaction. "To do your job correctly."

The Klingon woman favored him with a poisonous look, and Janeway wondered if she had just opened yet another can of worms. She sighed internally and refocused her attention.

"Which brings us back to the point of all this," she said. "The Kes program. Do we allow it to remain functioning, do we limit its function, or do we delete it altogether?"

"What if we just alter its appearance and personality," Neelix insisted. "So that it doesn't look and act like Kes."

"That requires creating an entirely new hologram," B'Elanna said. "What would be the point? Same problem, only with a different ... what, entity? Being? The fact that she looks, talks and acts like Kes is sort of irrelevant."

"Not to me," Neelix said, frowning.

"Or me," the Doctor said stubbornly. "I wanted my assistant to be Kes. I want her to stay."

Seven suddenly regarded him sharply, eyes narrowing and Janeway got yet another flash of insight which made her heart hammer in her chest. Ohmigod, the captain thought. Was the Doctor in love with Kes? Is that part of the reason he recreated her? What the hell does that mean when I make this decision?

"The fact remains that we are setting a hologram on the path of sentience," Tuvok said. "If it hasn't already achieved it by the programming which allows it to exist. What right do we have to do this? Are we creating a race of servants? This goes against every ideal that Vulcan and the Federation believe in."

"If we have," Tom countered. "What right do we have not to give holograms the shot at being sentient, even if they are being created to serve us. If they grow beyond it, then maybe that is part of their evolution. Maybe that is what will determine their true destiny."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "An interesting perspective," he noted. "Perhaps to recognize freedom, one must realize oppression. I had not considered that. However, I do note that I have a personal objection to being one of those oppressors."

"Do you feel oppressed, Doctor?" Harry asked the EMH.

The Doctor considered it. "Repressed, depressed, and occasionally, sorely pressed," he said. "But no, not oppressed."

"If one serves another freely, then it's not servitude," Tom noted. "But partnership."

Janeway held up her hand. "This discussion could take days," she said gently. "And perhaps it should. It is not a decision to be taken lightly, or made in haste. I will consider all your viewpoints."

"Ask her."

Everyone looked at Seven who regarded them all dispassionately, except for Janeway. When she looked at the captain, her ice-blue eyes were warm, and supportive.

"It is the Kes-program who's fate is being decided," she elaborated. "Perhaps you require her viewpoint as well."

Janeway nodded. "You're right, Seven," she said. "That's exactly what I should do." She favored the rest with a command look, signifying that the meeting was over.

"Dismissed."

Seven regarded B'Elanna surreptitiously from around the corner of the pillar in engineering. She didn't think the Klingon knew she was there, but she could not be sure. Despite her sometimes overly aggressive demeanor, Lt. Torres was quite clever, and had a keen awarebess of what was going on around her ... except when she was deeply involved in an engineering problem as she apparently was now.

Seven watched as Torres left main engineering and headed for an auxiliary area. She was unaccompanied, and Seven judged this to be perfect for her plans. Stealthily, the Borg stalked her through the humming aisles of computer banks until she was sure the Klingon was alone. Dressed in her black workout outfit she customarily wore for her Velocity matches with Kathryn, Seven was able to move silently on the thick-soled shoes, coming up to within arm's length of B'Elanna before some sixth sense warned the Klingon of her presence.

The engineer whirled, eyes widening, but it was too late. With a solid left, Seven dropped B'Elanna to the deck, looking down on the prone Klingon with triumph.

"Seven, what the hell are you doing?" B'Elanna yelped, holding her ridged forehead where Seven had punched her.

"I did tell you I would strike you once I had left sickbay," Seven said calmly, shaking her hand slightly. B'Elanna's head had been much harder than she had anticipated. "Apparently, you did not 'see me coming'."

That last was perhaps a bit unwise, Seven thought belatedly as B'Elanna came off the deck with a full throated Klingon roar. Seven abruptly turned and bolted, her longer stride keeping her ahead of the enraged Engineer accelerating behind her. Barely.

They raced through main engineering to the astounded gaze of the rest of the crew on duty there, dashing through the doors which scarcely slid open in time for Seven to avoid B'Elanna's lunge, stumbling a bit as she entered the corridor. The pair tore through the halls on deck twelve, scattering startled crewmembers in their wake as they hastily scrambled to get out of the way of the gazelle-like six foot blonde, and the smaller, but more determined Lt. Torres.

It occurred to Seven that perhaps she had not thought this entire thing through to its rather obvious conclusion. Of course B'Elanna would wish to hit her back. Not only had Seven struck her, she had embarrassed her, which was absolutely deadly as far as Klingons were concerned.

"I should remind you," Seven noted over her shoulder, rather enjoying herself as they scrambled up a ladder to the next deck. "You taunted me in sickbay when I was unable to fight back. I required the opportunity to regain my honor."

"A full Klingon would accept that," B'Elanna snarled, panting as they stumbled onto another corridor. "But I'm not a full Klingon. I'm gonna put you on your ass."

"You will have to catch me first," Seven goaded.

She was smiling widely and she realized that she was having as much fun being chased by B'Elanna as she did when playing Velocity with Kathryn. It was a challenge to stay ahead of the pursuing Torres but exhilarating, as if this were a game or sport. As she snuck a glance back at B'Elanna, she could tell the engineer was also enjoying herself, an evil grin peeling back her lips to show white teeth as they raced through Voyager, up deck after deck, neither giving an millimeter.

But like all good things, even this race had to come to an end, and thus it was when Seven turned another corridor on deck six, and realized she had miscalculated. Though this was exactly where she was planning to go, she was appalled to see Tuvok just leaving his quarters. She had planned to run into astrometrics and seal the door, but he had stepped out between her and the juncture of the corridor, and she was forced to skid to a stop, trying to avoid a collision.

She caught a glimpse of an elegantly slanted eyebrow raised warningly, then felt the solid bulk of B'Elanna collide with her, going too fast to stop her own momentum when she saw the security chief. All three crashed to the deck in a wild tangle of arms and legs, of Klingon oaths and, Seven was sure, one mild Vulcan word that she did not recognize but thought was probably Tuvok's equivalent to what B'Elanna was saying so colorfully.

Dazed, she scrambled to her feet only to be knocked down once more, landing on her gluteous maximus with a resounding thud. She looked up to see B'Elanna standing over her with a wild grin.

"Told you I'd knock you on your ass," she said with triumph.

Tuvok looked at them as if they had both lost their minds, eyebrows lowered with as much disapproval as he could muster.

"I think we must see the Captain," he said.

In a voice of utter doom.

Janeway entered sickbay, looking around for the Kes program. She was pleased to see that except for her, the medical center was quiet. She wondered briefly if the hologram had turned itself off, then saw the Kes working in the storage room with biometrics samples. She cleared her throat, and the Kes program looked up, smiling as she saw the captain.

Why hadn't the hologram been aware of her as she entered, she wondered? Wasn't it still tied into the ship's systems which would have meant the opening of the door would have alerted it?

"Hello, Captain," the Kes said. "How may I serve you?"

Janeway managed not to wince. Instead, she put her hand warmly on the shoulder of the shorter being, and nudged her towards the Doctor's office. "I would like to speak with you if I could," she said. "Privately. Is the Doctor about?"

"He's in engineering," the Kes said politely, allowing herself to be escorted to the office. "He says he needs to get the other mobile emitter built quickly. I'm not sure why he feels it's so important, but he seems quite adamant about it."

"Yes, well," the Captain said as they found seats in the Doctor's office. "It's believed that the emitter is what makes him sentient. Whether it does or not is up for debate, but I'm sure he believes that if he can make one for you, then you will..." She trailed off uncertainly.

"Also become sentient?" The Kes looked thoughtful. "Is that what this is all about?"

"There are also some concerns about the fact that you are based on our friend, Kes," the Captain offered gently.

"I have her memories," the Kes admitted. "But not her emotional connections. I know how she felt about each of you, but I do not have those feelings ... nor do I have the psychic abilities which afforded her a certain empathy to others."

"I think Kes was empathic without any special abilities," Janeway said, somewhat sadly, missing her friend. "That was just who she was."

The Kes looked at her for a moment. "Perhaps," she allowed. "In any event, I am not Kes, nor can I be. I began my existence a week ago, and who I am is based on what I have learned since then. I appreciate that my appearance is disturbing to some. However, altering such things as hair and eye color, maybe adjusting the height a little, those are fairly easy modifications. I could also be called something else. The Assistant perhaps, just as the Doctor is called ... well, the Doctor."

"The superficial changes would possibly solve the objections to you being based on Kes," Janeway noted. "However, it would not solve the issue of sentience. Do you believe you are sentient, K ... uh, Assistant?" She paused, smiled ruefully. "I can't call you that, but I have to admit, I'm a little uncomfortable with 'Kes' as well."

The Kes matrix nodded. "I noticed that while I was assisting with Seven's recovery," she said. "You avoided it quite nimbly at times."

"I'm not forgetting that it was your actions that saved her life, either," Janeway said quietly. "If you hadn't stimulated her nanoprobes to repair the bleeding, Seven might have died. The Doctor couldn't leave what he was doing in time."

"I was glad to help, Captain," the hologram said. "It is my function. Perhaps you can call me Sek."

"Sek?" Janeway was confused, then her brow cleared. "Ah, Kes pronounced backwards."

"It seems a practical solution," Sek responded. "For some reason, I rather like how it sounds."

"You do?" Janeway regarded her closely. "Which brings us back to my original question. Do you think you're sentient?"

"What is sentience, Captain?

Janeway smiled somewhat painfully. "Why not ask me a hard one?" she said dryly. "I know what the scientific definition is, and what some of the metaphysical beliefs profess, but do I know for sure? No, I'm as much in the dark as the next person. What makes me so sure I'm sentient?"

Sek nodded briefly. "All right," she allowed. "One definition says that to be sentient means to be endowed with feelings and the knowledge that one exists. While I do not have Kes's feelings, I do have a sense of 'satisfaction' when things go well. I 'enjoy' seeing people who have come into sickbay in pain, leave it healthy once more. I believe that ... no, I know ... that I would have felt 'bad' for you had Seven died. As for the other, I accept that I exist. I know why I was made, what my purpose is. I do not know if I have a soul, but I do believe I have a consciousness."

Janeway took a breath. "That's more than some of the rest of us ever realize," she said.

"And less," Sek noted. "I do not want to be anything else, Captain. I do not want to be a helmsman or a scientist or, for that matter, a captain. I wish only to be the Doctor's assistant. That 'desire' to reach beyond what I am simply is not there. I do not dream or aspire to greater heights. Yet, I am aware that such emotions were the driving force in Kes's existence. I do not have a need to be sentient, so perhaps I am not after all, and may never be."

"Never say never," Janeway suggested gently. "As someone very important to me once said, nothing is impossible."

"Have I helped you at all, Captain?" Sek asked curiously.

"Maybe a little," Janeway said. "Or possibly you've just raised some more questions."

"Are you going to delete my matrix?"

Caught, Janeway could only look at her compassionately. "It will be my decision," the captain admitted finally. "How do you feel about that possibility, Sek?"

Sek hesitated. "I believe ... I do not wish to be deleted, Captain," she said. "However, I would accept the necessity for it."

Janeway could not say anything to that. Instead, she simply nodded a farewell and left sickbay, thoughts swirling in a twisted mass of scientific detachment and heartfelt emotion. What was the right answer? she wondered. Had she even asked the right questions?

"Tuvok to Janeway." The sound of her comm badge broke her spiral of confusion and she shook her head slightly to clear it.

"Go ahead."

"Captain, I need your presence in your ready room," he said. "It is a matter of disorderly conduct."

Janeway blinked. "Disorderly conduct? Who?"

There was a definite pause, then with a sort of reluctance that was recognizable even through the channel, he answered.

"Lt. B'Elanna Torres ... and Seven of Nine."

"On my way," she said and closed the channel. Her head hit the wall of the turbo lift with a muted thud. "Oh Annika," she muttered.

"What have you done now?"

"I can't believe you struck B'Elanna," Janeway said, pacing animatedly about her ready room before the two Voyager crewmembers, who were standing at attention after Tuvok had left them in the elegant hands of the captain.

"Not only did I strike her," Seven told her proudly. "She did not 'knock me on my ass first' as she claimed she would."

"Oh, I put you on your ass," B'Elanna retorted. "I just had to get up first."

"No, you had to catch me first," Seven corrected archly. "You would not have accomplished that without Tuvok's interference."

"I would have caught you all right," B'Elanna told her scornfully.

"This is not the point," the captain interrupted, glaring at the pair of them, and abashed, both subsided, staring at the floor. "I can't have my crew brawling while on duty."

"Is it all right to brawl off duty?" Seven asked innocently, looking up.

"No!" Janeway stood in front of her lover, looking into her unrepentant features with utter dismay. She ignored B'Elanna's not so subtle snicker beside her. "Seven, you can't just walk up to someone, and hit them for no reason."

"I had a reason," Seven said in an injured tone. "She taunted me when I was unable to react. It was most dishonorable. I have studied the Klingon culture so I was aware of what response was required of me."

B'Elanna nodded. "She's right, Captain," she agreed. "I did make fun of her when she couldn't fight back. That wasn't right. I'd never get away with that on a Klingon ship."

"This is not a Klingon ship," the captain said icily, staring at her chief engineer. "Since when have you decided to indulge your Klingon side anyway?"

"Since Paris ticked me off," B'Elanna replied, eyes flashing. "Like a fool, I played the cute little Human for him, and how did he treat me? Like dirt. Do you think he would have dared look at another woman if I had acted like a full- fledged Klingon woman?"

Janeway held up a hand. "I think we're getting off track here," she said admonishingly. "I'm suspecting it's intentional. Nice try, B'Elanna but you know that I expect better from you. Seven is still learning Starfleet and Federation protocol. You, on the other hand, spent time at the Academy."

"But, I didn't graduate," B'Elanna reminded cheerfully.

The Captain took a deep breath. "This is not amusing," she said. "Someone could have been hurt."

"I waited until she was away from the others in engineering," Seven pointed out. "No one else was involved."

"I was talking about you two," the Captain snapped.

"We weren't trying to draw blood or anything," B'Elanna said. She took a breath. "Look, I know it was irresponsible of us to do this while on duty, Captain, but really, it was nowhere near as serious as Tuvok made it out to be. He made it sound like we were trying to kill each other. Seven and I were just playing."

"Then, you should have taken it to the holodeck," the captain said. "After your shift."

"The holodecks are always in use now," Seven remarked. "The crew wants to get all the time in they can before you close them."

Janeway stopped, blinked. "What? Why would I close the holodecks?" she asked.

"To keep us from utilizing holograms as slaves," B'Elanna explained dryly, with a snarky grin.

"Oh dear god," Janeway said, resuming her pacing, pinching the top of her nose between her forefinger and thumb. "This is getting completely out of hand."

"Besides," Seven added. "'Taking it to the holodeck' would have required that B'Elanna be prepared for me. The point of it all was that I catch her when she wasn't looking'."

"The point of it all," the captain said icily, "is that a certain standard of conduct is expected of you while on duty. This was no where near what is required."

Seven frowned. "If we are off duty," she said thoughtfully, "and we are interrupted to participate in solving the ship's problems, are we expected to report immediately no matter what the circumstances?"

"Of course," the captain said, frowning.

"Then, why can we not interrupt duty sometimes for off-duty pursuits?" Seven offered reasonably.

The captain stared at Seven, completely stymied while B'Elanna regarded her partner in crime with absolute admiration.

"Not bad," she murmured.

"Because that's not how it works, Seven," the captain said finally.

"Why not?"

"Because regulations....." Janeway trailed off and looked stubborn.

Seven regarded her patiently, waiting to have this explained to her.

B'Elanna started to laugh. "She's got you," she said in delighted disbelief. "She's absolutely got you. There's no Starfleet regulation that says you can't be taken off duty for R&R, if the department head authorizes it. Since we're both department heads, it was completely authorized. Besides, if we are expected to be on call every minute of every day, then it has to be allowed that we can take off-duty time when it's required. Regulation fifty-seven, subsection ninety-two."

"Why am I not surprised that of all the Starfleet regulations, you know that one?" the captain said acidly. "This isn't what they had in mind when it was written."

"Your perception only, Captain. Look, I admit Seven and I had some fun that got a little out of hand," she said. "I freely apologize for disrupting other people while they were working. I will do so publicly in front of all engineering if I have to, but to apologize because for once, we decided to have fun rather than concentrate on being stuck in the Delta Quadrant, or whether we should be creating sentient holograms or not? No, I'm absolutely not going to ask forgiveness for that, Captain, and neither should Seven. My god, what are we, the Borg Collective? All work, no play?"

"I resemble that remark," Seven said, remembering the Doctor saying it at another time, and thinking it would apply here. Since B'Elanna laughed, and even Janeway smiled a bit, she judged it a success.

"You have to set an example for the people under your command," the captain said in a less outraged, quieter tone. "You are chief of engineering."

"That's why I said I'd apologize to the rest who were working," B'Elanna agreed. "Besides, they probably think I was trying to kill her. It'll do my reputation a world of good. Certainly keep them in line to know that I can go berserk at the slightest notice."

The captain sighed. Clearly B'Elanna had convinced her though she wasn't happy about it. "Fine," she said, waving her hand. "You will apologize publicly, but I don't want to see this happen again. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am," B'Elanna said respectfully.

"Dismissed," Janeway said, then reached out to put a hand on Seven's arm. "Not you."

B'Elanna shot Seven a grin, whether in amusement or in sympathy, the tall blonde could not tell. She wasn't sure what Kathryn had in mind, allowing that it could be another, even more detailed, lecture that the captain did not want to administer in front of the chief engineer. Seven took a breath. Sometimes it was very hard being the lover of the captain. When one disappointed her, it was not just a professional matter, it was a personal one, as well.

Janeway waited until the door was shut, then slid her arms around Seven's neck, bringing her head down to where the captain kissed her with forceful passion. "I don't want to see you do this again, either," she warned the Borg after she released her.

"Then you should not punish me in such a fashion," Seven noted, rather breathlessly. "Or I shall do it all the time."

"That wasn't your punishment," Janeway said dryly, with a bit of a smile. "That was for me. Do I really need to punish you for your conduct, Seven?"

"Perhaps, if I promise never to make B'Elanna chase me through the ship again," Seven offered, "you will not have to?"

"I accept that," Janeway said. "But you will also apologize to engineering for disrupting their workday, all right?"

"Yes, Captain," Seven said.

"Then, the matter is closed," Janeway said, releasing her embrace but capturing the woman's hand in her own, pulling her along as she went up the stairs to the upper level of the ready room. "Can you stay with me a few minutes, or do you need to go punch someone else?"

Seven hesitated, realized Kathryn was being facetious again, and shook her head. "I can stay with you," she said, sitting on the couch. Janeway stretched out full length, resting her upper body on Seven's lap. "You wish to talk." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," Janeway said, yet for a few minutes, she simply lay in Seven's arms, a faint frown line marring her forehead.

Seven waited patiently, knowing that Kathryn was organizing her thoughts. Resting her chin on her left hand, elbow propped against the couch's arm, she placed her right hand lightly on the captain's upper chest where she could feel the tiniest flutter of heartbeat through the layers of uniform. She gazed down into the beloved face with acute interest, wondering what was troubling her partner.

"I spoke to Sek as you suggested," Kathryn said finally.

"'Sek'?"

"That's what the Assistant Medical Hologram wants to be called now," Janeway explained.

"Ah," Seven said, raising an eyebrow. "It seems that her progress is already exceeding the Doctor's. He does not yet have a name."

"Oh, he went through quite a few," Janeway said dryly. "Before your time, however. I think he settled on Doctor simply because he could never remember what he told us he wanted to be called at any given moment."

"Then, she is progressing as he has done," Seven noted.

"Yes," Janeway said. "What do you think of her becoming sentient, Seven? Assuming she isn't already."

Seven considered it. "It is irrelevant to me," she said finally, honestly. "I have no emotional context regarding the issue at all, possibly because I never knew Kes. If the program's use to the crew is greater than the power outlay required by the ship to run it, I see no reason why it should not continue."

"Well, that's the practical view," Janeway allowed. "Hadn't heard that one before, but I suppose it's just as valid as any of the rest. It certainly strips it down to the bare essentials."

"Is that good?" Seven asked.

Janeway sighed. "Sometimes," she said. She took Seven's hand in between hers, studying it as she thought, idly stroking the palm with her thumbs. "Do you ever wonder what might have been, Seven?" she asked quietly. "If you had never been assimilated?"

"That would be unacceptable," Seven said simply. "We would never have met. I would be unaware of you or anyone else on Voyager."

"But you would never have lost your parents," Janeway said softly.

Seven raised her eyebrow. "Technically, I never lost my parents," she said. "They too, were assimilated, and their thoughts were mine until I was severed from the Collective at your order."

Janeway was staring at her in horror, and Seven wondered what she had said to provoke such an expression.

"Oh, my god, Seven," the captain said. "I'm so sorry."

Seven considered that. "Why?"

"Because..." Janeway trailed off as she thought about it. "Do you miss them?"

"No more than the rest of the Collective," Seven answered honestly. She studied Kathryn closely. "It was not like with your mother," she added, analyzing the expression on her lover's face. "Do not mistake my having my parents as a part of the Collective as being like it was for you and your parents. Once we were assimilated, our emotional connection to each other was deemed irrelevant and removed. I do not remember how they felt about me originally. It is not the emotional loss I believe you are associating with this."

Janeway took a breath, raising her hand to touch Seven's cheek. "I am still very sorry," she said compassionately.

"I understand," Seven allowed. She paused, going back to the original question, knowing that Kathryn probably wanted a different sort of response. "Sometimes I wonder how it would be if you did not love me," she said after awhile. "If I were just another crewmember to you."

"You were never 'just another crewmember' to me," Janeway said, eyes soft. "You were always special."

"Yes," Seven agreed. "But instead, what would have happened if I had loved you, but you had not returned the feelings ... sometimes I wonder how I would be now in that event."

"What were your conclusions?" the captain asked, regarding her curiously.

"I think ... it makes me feel bad, when I speculate on such things," Seven admitted. "Empty inside. I think I would have left the ship rather than be in your presence, and be unable to be loved by you. It would hurt greatly, and I would never understand why because I would not know the right questions to ask. So I would have to leave."

"Then, I'm glad I was smart enough to realize I loved you," Kathryn said tenderly, reaching up to kiss Seven's cheek with gentle lips. "If I hadn't, and you had left, there would be an empty space inside me that I would never be able to fill."

Seven smiled down at her, gazing into the warm blue eyes. "Is this helping you solve your problem?" she asked curiously.

"No," Janeway allowed with a rueful sigh. "However, it's more fun than concentrating directly on my problem which is all I've been doing lately. We all take our breaks in our own way, darling. You get B'Elanna to chase you, I use you as Bobo."

"'Bobo'?"

"My teddy bear," Janeway smiled. "A stuffed toy I used to tell all my secrets to when I was very young."

"Ah," Seven said, trying to wrap her mind around that concept. "I believe I like being your 'Bobo'."

"I think I do, too," Janeway said, and cupped Seven's face in her hands, drawing her head down so that they could kiss. This, Seven thought, was an even better way to take a break.

They spent the next several minutes in blissful repose, then with a small sound of regret, Janeway pulled back a little, resting her temple against Seven's chin. "What am I going to do?" she asked quietly.

Seven did not answer, realizing it was more Kathryn thinking out loud rather than requiring any response from her, but she was also aware enough to know that it was not something Janeway would ask just anyone. This uncertainty, this struggle to find an answer, this vulnerability ... only Seven was permitted to see and hear it. It was a display of deep trust, and Seven felt a profound tenderness fill her heart as she recognized it.

"What did Sek say?" Seven asked after a moment.

"She said she did not wish to be deleted," Janeway said. "Though she would accept it if necessary." She took a breath. "God, I don't know if I can do this again."

"Again?"

There was a silence, then Janeway swallowed hard, eyes distant, clouded over with memory. "In our second year of being lost, there was an accident involving the transporter," she said in such a flat tone that Seven realized that Kathryn was relating something very personal, and very painful to her. "Tuvok and Neelix were joined into one being. A mix of both men, but really, neither, becoming a unique individual named Tuvix. A way to reverse the results of the accident was discovered, but by that time, Tuvix had become ... happy with his existence. He had made a life here on Voyager, and did not want to die. Yet, I believed that it was wrong for him to live at the expense of Tuvok and Neelix."

She paused and Seven regarded her closely. "It was very difficult for you," she noted.

Janeway took a breath. "Yes," she admitted. "He said that it wasn't my decision to make. That I was executing him for the crime of existing, which was not his doing, despite the fact that his creation had resulted in the death of his genetic fore-bearers, Tuvok and Neelix. That I had no right to destroy his life for the sake of others."

"A viable argument," Seven said carefully. "One you have made to me."

"I know," Janeway said, and her voice was ragged. "But, in the end, I did it. I made the injection, I set the controls for the transporter, and I ... killed him." There was such a bleakness in her eyes, such despair that Seven could hardly bear seeing it. She hugged her partner even closer, kissing her gently on the temple.

"So that Tuvok and Neelix could live," Seven reminded quietly. She hesitated, seeking the right thing to say. "Deleting Sek will allow no one to live. There will be a subtraction, not a division."

Janeway took a deep breath, her eyes clearing, jaw firming. "You're right, Seven," she said, voice stronger and threading once more with command. "It would be a loss, not a gain, and Voyager cannot afford losses. Not here in the Delta Quadrant." She looked up at Seven and smiled gently. "Thank you, love."

"I am not certain I was that much help," Seven said.

"Oh, you were," the Captain said. "You were all the help I needed. Now, kiss me before I have to call together the department heads, and tell them what I've decided."

Seven was more than glad to do so.

"Taking all the objections and viewpoints into account," Janeway said, regarding her command crew impassively. "I've decided to maintain the Kes matrix, or Sek, as she now wishes to be called, for as long as we are able."

"Sek?" The Doctor blinked. "Why can't we call her Kes?"

"Because I wish to be called Sek," the hologram said over the screen from where she was monitoring this meeting in sickbay. "I want to thank you, Captain, for making this decision with such compassion."

"You're quite welcome, Sek," Janeway nodded.

"Is this final, Captain?" Chakotay asked in order to clarify for the rest, not to question her.

She nodded somberly. "Yes, it is Commander." She looked at the others with a furrowed brow. "I will admit, it was a difficult decision," Janeway told them quietly. "Nor is it one that I ever intend to have to deal with again. I am placing limitations on the holodecks to prevent any further programming that utilize personality profiles, medical records or individual logs in their matrix. We now have two living, sentient holograms on board, both of whom I am prepared to grant full crew status for as long as they exist. They are not our servants, they are members of our family. I accept full responsibility for all the consequences that may arise from this decision."

The rest of the senior crew were silent, according her the respect of knowing how very trying it had been for her to make such a decision. Even Tuvok seemed to be content with the conclusion she had finally reached. B'Elanna and Harry both appeared pleased, and if Tom Paris or Neelix had any objections, they was keeping them to themselves. At the far end of the table, Seven looked at the captain with a level gaze, her ice-blue eyes seeming to reach out and wrap around Janeway with a tangible sense of love and support. Warmed by it and stronger in her heart about her decision, Janeway was more at peace now that it had been made.

"In the meantime," she continued professionally. "B'Elanna? Harry? I would like for you to continue to work on the mobile emitter, but only when it is convenient. Doctor, I expect you to leave them alone. Whatever progress they make, they will report to you only when they deem it necessary. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain," he responded stiffly.

"I expect that Sek will be utilized, not just as your assistant," she leaned heavily. "I expect you to treat her with the same respect that you expect us to treat you, and to teach her what she needs to know in order to operate as a sentient being."

"All right," he said slowly. He blinked as if realizing for the first time that the result he had wanted so much had far-reaching consequences. Certainly, more than he had anticipated.

But then, Janeway thought, a trifle wickedly, when you create offspring, you have to take responsibility for their growth. At least, in the beginning.

"Uh, Captain," Neelix offered uncertainly. "Perhaps this is not my place to mention..." He trailed off, looking for the right words to say.

"I will be altering my looks," Sek told him from the screen. "I appreciate that certain of the crew object to my looking like Kes, and I have asked Lt. Kim to help alter my appearance."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, we're changing hair color, eyes," he said. "Maybe even make her a little taller."

"But, then she won't be Kes," the Doctor blurted.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "I believe that was the point," he said. "She is not Kes. It isn't right to perceive her as someone she is not. Kes is gone, and we cannot replace her, nor should we try."

Neelix nodded. "I agree, Mr. Tuvok," he said, sadly.

"I want you to get right on that, Harry," Janeway said firmly. "Take time from ops if necessary."

She caught Seven's gaze, judging the disapproval in her eyes and, shook her head slightly, warning her off. This one she had to win for her own peace of mind. She didn't know if holograms fell in love or even if these two would, but if they did, let the Doctor fall in love with Sek, not a memory of Kes he had tried to recreate. Seven would just have to content herself with trying to bring Chakotay and B'Elanna together, though Janeway had plans to forestall that as well. All she needed was a little more time, and Tom Paris's cooperation.

"If there's nothing else?" she said. At the lack of response from her staff, she dipped her head. "Dismissed."

They filed out, immediately off duty as the meeting's duration had extended into the beta shift. Janeway paused to get some padds from her desk, then caught up to Seven who was waiting patiently by the turbolift.

There had been a time not so long ago, when Janeway would have spent the entire evening in her ready room working on the same sort of reports she had just retrieved, but no longer. Now, any extra duties she had were brought back to their quarters, and worked on there in the company of her partner who never needed to say a word, but whose very presence made even the most tedious reports a pleasure to work on. Very often, the captain would look up from her tasks to see Seven moving calmly about their quarters, or sitting nearby, quietly attending to her own projects, and it filled Janeway with a deep and abiding contentment, one she had never felt before in her life. It was just so very cozy, incredibly intimate, and all together more domesticated than the captain ever thought she would get.

She loved every minute of it.

Hours later, Janeway took time to stretch at the work station which was situated opposite the sofa, feeling pleasantly stuffed and not a little lazy. It had been another incredible meal created by Seven for their dinner, and it was with a sort of fond exasperation that she looked over at the young blonde, wondering how a woman raised in the Borg Collective could manage to replicate Gretchen Janeway's recipes with such skill, when Kathryn had never come close.

Seven was curled up on the couch, her long legs tucked up beneath her, head bent studiously over her own padds, working on the slip-stream technology that she hoped would eventually return Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant. A few strands of her blonde hair had come lose to fall about her serious features, the sandy lashes of her eyes casting delicate dark shadows on her cheeks. Janeway shut down her board, deciding there was nothing there that couldn't wait until tomorrow, and rose to her feet, casually drifting over to Seven, standing to the side of the couch where she could bend down and kiss the back of the Borg's neck.

"Are you attempting to distract me?" Seven asked coolly, not looking up.

Janeway smiled, and gently tugged at the clips holding Seven's hair in its bun, loosening it so that it cascaded freely down the woman's back. "No," she murmured, running her fingers through it luxuriously. "I'm hoping I can make you put your work down completely and come to bed."

"I am not tired," Seven responded calmly, inputting more data into her padd.

"Neither am I," Janeway said, pulling back the mane of hair to expose Seven's shoulder which she proceeded to nuzzle lovingly.

Seven took a breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her head to the side, offering more of her throat even as she protested mildly. "Why is it that I am not allowed to interrupt your work, but you are allowed to interrupt mine?"

Janeway laughed huskily. "Captain's privilege," she told her. "One of the few perks of rank." She reached down and tilted Seven's chin up, covering the full lipped mouth with her own, possessively, demandingly, releasing her only after she had thoroughly kissed her. "And by the way, you interrupt my work all the time, what with punching people and all," she added dryly.

"It is never my intention to interrupt you, however," Seven pointed out as she allowed the smaller woman to grasp her hands and pull her to her feet. She left the padds scattered haphazardly over the couch cushions. "You are always quite deliberate about interrupting mine."

"Yes, but my interruptions are always more ... pleasing," Janeway pointed out, holding her hand as she led her into the other room where the queen-sized bed awaited.

"That is very true," Seven agreed readily.

Janeway smiled and turned around, enfolded into a warm embrace by the taller woman, sliding her arms about the tiny waist as she looked up at Seven seductively. "So you won't object if I continue to interrupt you?" she asked coyly.

"No, you may interrupt me whenever you wish," Seven told her with grave intent, bending her head slightly to kiss her partner.

"That's all I needed to know," Janeway whispered against her lips. "Listen, darling, why don't you get undressed, and hop into bed. I need to do a few things first."

"Very well," Seven said.

Janeway smiled, kissed her once more and slipped into the bathroom. She stripped off her uniform and took a quick run through the shower before pulling on her favorite satin nightie. It was Seven's favorite as well, and she smiled to herself as she touched perfume lightly to her pulse points.

She idly ran her fingers over the indentations that remained in the sink counter, four parallel groves and wondered how she would ever get it fixed. It wasn't the sort of thing she wanted to ask Hull Maintenance or Ship's Stores about. It was bad enough when she had to requisition new mattresses whenever Seven lost a little control over her hand implant and ripped the bedding apart. This would require replacing the entire counter top, and she could just imagine the jokes and innuendo that doing so would inspire. Though, she did realize her reputation for bedroom activities had escalated beyond all reasonable supposition thanks to Seven's occasional destructive tendencies while in the throes of passion. Along with the snickers, there came a whole lot of wide-eyed, astounded respect directed her way, and while it grated on the captain's last nerve to be the object of such speculation, there was a tiny part of her that reveled in her new reputation as a lover to be reckoned with.

She knelt down, staring at the damage closely and wondered if Seven could somehow pound the dents out. Then, she decided she had other more important concerns that should be occupying her at the moment, and left all thoughts of ship repairs for another time. She killed the lights in the ensuite and walked out to the bedroom.

Seven was stretched out on her back, hands folded primly on her new belly, staring contemplatively up at the ceiling. Gloriously naked. Janeway paused a moment in the doorway to fully appreciate the sight, smiling as she took in the full length of her slender, six foot partner, all cool and blond with silver highlights. Only the eyes had any real color, the lightest of blue which darkened remarkably when she was angry ... or aroused.

"I think we should put one up there," Seven said, lifting her hand to point toward the ceiling.

"One what?" Janeway said, going over to get on the bed, reclining against the headboard, legs tucked under her as she followed the line of Seven's arm. She saw nothing, but the blank expanse of hull, colored a bland off-white.

Seven glanced at her, took another look as she saw Janeway's sheer nightie and smiled her full, wonderful smile. "You are beautiful," she said.

Janeway blushed. It was exactly the reaction she wanted and to be honest, expected, but it was still flattering, still very moving to her. "Thank you," she said huskily. "One what?"

"A mirror," Seven said. "It is a rather innovative idea don't you think? I wonder why no one has ever thought of it before? A mirror on the ceiling. It would be wonderful while making love to be able to look up and watch as we did so."

Janeway swallowed the laugh. "Actually Seven," she said gently. "It's been done. Many, many times."

"Indeed?" Seven raised an eyebrow, regarding her quizzically. "Why do we not have one?"

Janeway spread out her hands. "Never needed one before, I suppose," she admitted.

"Shall we get one installed?"

"Why not," Janeway remarked. That would pretty much finish off, in fine style, what little dignity she might have left at this point. Might as well get the sink counter fixed at the same time. Perhaps she would even have Seven present when they did the renovations so that the Borg could tell them in great detail what exactly prompted the requisitions. Janeway laughed out loud at that thought. No, that would be going too far.

"Am I amusing?" Seven asked with a touch of confusion.

"Not you, me," Janeway said, sliding down to lay beside her partner, resting her head on the strong shoulder as Seven put her arm around her, hugging her to the long, lanky body. "As well as the rest of Humanity and all our little quirks. You have a way of pointing them out to me."

"Ah," Seven said, though Janeway knew she didn't really understand.

Janeway put her hand on Seven's stomach and began to rub it gently in ever increasing circles. "So you would like to watch me do this?" she asked sensually.

"Yes," Seven allowed. "It is very stimulating to watch you. You are so attractive to me. Sometimes it is difficult in the conference room not to go to you and make love right there in front of the entire command staff. I realize it would be completely inappropriate and damaging to the function of the ship, but I cannot help thinking about it at times. Especially in staff meetings for some reason."

Janeway kissed the soft skin of Seven's shoulder. "It's called a fantasy, Seven," she said, gentling her touch, slowing it to become more leisurely. "It's part of having an imagination, of being creative. A sort of dreaming while you are awake. You fantasize about us making love in the conference room."

"I see," Seven said quietly, idly tracing Janeway's arm as it moved over her midsection, fingers light on the bicep and elbow. "I was unaware that I was capable of 'fantasizing'.  Do many people do it?"

"Everyone in the history of Humanity," Janeway told her. "It's perfectly normal."

"So you do as well?" Seven asked, bending her head to look into her face. "What is your fantasy?"

Well, I certainly walked into that one, Janeway admitted to herself ruefully.

"The thing with fantasies is that they're very intimate, very personal and private," Janeway warned gently. "I will gladly share mine with you, but you must never tell anyone else."

"I promise," Seven said. Her eyes were alight with interest. Clearly, she realized that such a warning made this quite an intriguing revelation indeed.

"All right," Janeway said slowly, hesitating a bit as she considered this. Should she? Seven had a way of taking things literally, and if the opportunity presented itself, the Borg might readily try to make the captain's fantasy a reality.

And your point would be? her little voice hooted in disbelief.

Janeway took a breath. "I always thought it would be incredibly sensual to..." She paused, eying Seven uncertainly. The young woman was completely engrossed, not wanting to miss a word of this. "To make love in the captain's chair on the bridge," she finished in a rush.

Seven's eyebrows looked as if they were attempting to crawl off her forehead altogether. "During which shift?" she asked.

"That doesn't matter," Janeway replied, blushing furiously, and wishing she had not brought it up. "In my fantasy, the bridge is empty. It would just be you and me, but ... well, I always thought that would be very exciting."

"It would be," Seven agreed readily. "More so if we were to be attacked by alien vessels, and suddenly required the presence of the rest of the bridge crew."

Janeway laughed, rolling onto her back, and putting a hand over her eyes. "It's a fantasy," she said in a mildly protesting tone. "It's not supposed to be practical ... or even possible. It's just fun to imagine such a thing once in awhile. Like you imagining us making love on the conference table."

Seven blinked. "The table?" she said slowly. "I envisioned the floor, but I believe the table would be acceptable as well."

"Well, if I'm in this fantasy, it's the table or nothing," Janeway said dryly, poking her gently in the side. "I'm too old to be rolling around on the deck."

"Of course you are in this fantasy," Seven said, puzzled. "Who else would be?"

Janeway decided that it would not be wise at this point to suggest that, sometimes, people fantasized about being with lovers other than their own, strictly in their imaginations of course. Then, she felt Seven shift position, moving closer to her, and had to admit to herself that maybe Seven had a point. Why should Janeway need to fantasize about being with anyone else, when she had the ship's favorite fantasy right here beside her, doing very real, and very pleasant, things to her body with an intent absorption that the captain had never experienced with anyone before her?

Janeway realized suddenly that was part of what was so very special about Seven. The young woman loved totally, perfectly, without the slightest need or inclination to even consider anyone other than Kathryn Janeway as her mate. She gave her whole self to Janeway, holding nothing back, loving her and only her, now and forever. There was never a lessening in that emotion, she thought wonderingly as Seven nuzzled her neck and chin, finding her mouth and kissing it with utter diligence, never a lapse in her unwavering devotion, even with the smallest things. Janeway knew that, even if she found her mind wandering while kissing or being kissed, Seven's never did for an instant. Her concentration was absolute, her thoughts only on what she was feeling at any given second with Janeway. It made her the most complete and attentive lover Janeway had ever been with, or perhaps ever would be.

So Seven was correct, she thought gratefully as she pulled her partner closer to her. There would never be anyone else in her fantasies.

It simply wasn't necessary

Seven found herself mesmerized by the line of Janeway's jaw. It was such a fine jaw, she considered privately, as she nipped and nuzzled the soft skin tenderly. Firm and strong, yet so gentle in its curve, a perfect complement to the rounded chin, and of course, the high, elegant cheekbones. She loved Kathryn's features, the perfection of them, the way they could be so expressive with just the tiniest amount of muscle tension. The Borg had become very aware of the slightest change in the captain's face, because frequently, that was all Janeway allowed herself to display. Seven was now at the point where she could tell Janeway's mood, speculate on what she might be thinking, just by how she looked, the way she moved. It was fascinating to Seven, and she could not think of a more appealing subject to study.

"Mmm, Seven," Kathryn said in that low throaty voice. "I don't suppose you could put your hand a little further over."

"Here?" Seven asked curiously.

"No, a little to the right."

"Over here?"

"You're being deliberately obtuse, aren't you?"

Seven smiled, and went back to kissing the captain's jaw. "I think that sometimes you want to go too fast," she murmured as she lightly ran her hand over the smaller woman's torso beneath the silken negligee. "I have never understood that."

Janeway blinked, and smiled. "Maybe it's a result of my past experiences," she allowed thoughtfully. "My previous lovers have all been male, so I'm afraid I have gotten a little used to a quicker pace."

Seven stopped, drew back so she could look at her fully. "It is different with males?" she asked.

Kathryn made that odd little gulping sound which meant that she was trying not to laugh. "Just a little, Seven," she said. "They are built somewhat differently than we are."

"I am aware of the anatomical differences," Seven said readily. "I was unaware that altered the pace at which one made love however."

"I'm rather sorry I brought this up," Kathryn admitted, as she slid her arms around Seven's neck and drew her back down. "I really don't want to talk about the differences between how men and women make love right now."

"We will discuss it later?" Seven asked, hesitating.

"I promise," Kathryn said gravely. "Now, continue on."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Is that an order, Captain?" she asked.

Kathryn gave her the soft look. "No my darling, it is a request," she said gently. "Please make love to me, as slowly and as precisely as you want." Gently, Seven kissed her, and Kathryn added in a mumble, "Besides, you never listen to my orders anyway."

Seven considered stopping again, just to tease her, but decided not to. As much fun as it was to play with Kathryn, it was even more enjoyable to actually be making love to her. The smaller woman always responded in the most wonderful of ways, with sighs and cries, little sounds that came from deep within her, helpless sounds, loving sounds. Sometimes Kathryn even laughed, a throaty chuckle not of amusement, but of such joy that it wrapped around Seven with unimaginable force, taking her breath away.

"I love you," she whispered in her ear.

That generated a happy little sigh. "Oh my darling," Kathryn said, kissing her. "I love you too. With everything I am."

"I like making love with you," Seven added quietly as she explored the compact body beneath her. "I like touching you, pleasing you. I like how you taste and smell, how you look. I especially like how you sound."

Kathryn hugged her neck tightly, resting her forehead against hers. "How I sound?" she whispered. "You're the one who makes me sound that way, you know. You are so incredible, Annika. You make love to me so wonderfully ... and I absolutely adore making love to you."

"Will we ever stop liking it so much?" Seven asked with a note of concern. "B'Elanna says it becomes boring after awhile."

"Not if you're with the right person," Kathryn confided. "It never gets boring. We might not make love as much ... some day in the far future ... but it will always be special for us."

"I am with the right person," Seven told her gravely.

She kissed her once more, pressing down on her lightly. Even with the removal of her implant, she still massed a great deal more than Kathryn, and was far too heavy for the smaller woman to support, but sometimes Kathryn wanted even more of her weight on her. Seven had learned to judge how much harder to bear down by how tightly Kathryn pulled her to her ... or by the startled little squeak as the air left the captain's lungs. That didn't happen any more, however, for which Seven was supremely grateful. It had always thrown her completely off her rhythm when Kathryn turned blue and started pounding on her back, indicating she wanted Seven off her. The younger woman had only recently come to understand how disturbing it was to be unable to breathe because of a weight pressing down too hard. She was sorry she had made her partner go through it so often in those early days of their relationship.

"Annika, darling," Kathryn said after a bit.

"Yes?"

"Could you....?"

"Here?"

"A little lower."

"Here?"

"I'm going to kill you, honestly I am."

"Here?" Seven offered with a smile, relenting as she saw the desperation in the blue-grey eyes.

"Mmmm, yes, my love, right there."

"Inside, you mean?"

"Oh yes .. .oh, darling ... exactly like that."

"Perhaps a little deeper?"

"Oh heavens ... mmm, yes ... Maybe ... hmm, maybe, if you could ... press a little harder as well...."

"Like this?"

"Oh ... yes ... like that ... oh darling ... exactly like that ... oh god ... deeper ... oh my god ... yes ... oh, Annika .... yes ... oh ... oh ... ohhhhhh..."

Seven truly loved how Kathryn sounded.

Later, she knew that she also uttered sounds that belonged only to Kathryn, only to her lover. No one else could ever make her feel that way ... could make her cry out so loudly, so helplessly. That was Kathryn's alone.

Later still, they lay in a tangled heap of bedclothes, and the silken negligee which had somehow ended up wrapped around Seven's neck. Kathryn laughed when she saw it and carefully removed it, tossing it onto the floor beside the bed, no longer wanting it on now that its purpose had been served.

"I like that nightgown," Seven told her as they cuddled together in the warm spot in the center of the bed.

"I know," Kathryn said. "That's why I wore it ,,, just for you."

"I wish I had something to wear for you," Seven told her wistfully.

"You do," Kathryn said gently. "Every second of every day. Your beautiful eyes. When I see them, my heart starts to pound."

"One of them is not real," Seven reminded her, a stickler for precision as always.

"Darling, that doesn't matter. The love in both of them is, and that's what makes me feel so wonderful."

"That will always be in my eyes," Seven said softly.

"I will always be looking for it," Kathryn said, and yawned, blinking sleepily

Seven had noted that Kathryn took very little time to go to sleep once she had settled in against her. She knew that the Doctor had once held a theory that it was her Borg implants which caused the captain to fall asleep so quickly, but he had taken several readings on both the bio-electric fields of the implants, and Kathryn's neural pathways, finding no correlation whatsoever. His final conclusion was simply that Kathryn liked having Seven around, that her presence allowed her to sleep easier, like having a big teddy bear to hold in the night.

Like Bobo, Seven considered suddenly, though why such a thing as a stuffed animal would help one sleep was beyond her. She did know, however, that for the first time since the captain had entered the Delta Quadrant, her sleep patterns were regular, and of proper duration, allowing Kathryn to get the amount of rest she required.

"I think you are going to sleep," she noted, kissing the captain gently on the forehead.

"Hmm, I think you're right," Kathryn mumbled. "I guess that means you want me to turn over."

"I do not wish to launch you across the room again," Seven told her seriously.

Kathryn smiled and shifted position, rolling over so that she could snuggle back against the lean blonde who surrounded her with a warm, protective embrace. With a word, Seven brought the illumination down to nothing, leaving them in the comforting darkness of starlit space.

"Have I ever told you how much I love falling asleep in your arms?" Kathryn murmured quietly in the night. "How much I love waking up in them?"

"Many times," Seven replied softly. "I always ... appreciate hearing it, however."

"I love you, darling."

"I love you, Kathryn. I will always love you."

As Kathryn's breathing slowed and steadied, Seven lay awake for some time, enjoying the feel of her partner's body against her until the remarkable sound of Kathryn's heartbeat pulled her under to join her in peaceful slumber.

Epilogue

B'Elanna Torres sighed as she snuggled against the strong, warm body lying next to her in the bed, stroking the brawny chest gently. She reached up, and tenderly kissed the tattoo on Chakotay's forehead.

He laughed.

"What?" she said, a little chagrined.

"I always knew you were a soft touch," he said.

"Soft touch," she growled, and bit him. She laughed as he yelped, and kissed the mark soothingly. "I am many things, but not that."

"Hmm," he answered noncommittally. "Are we going to tell anyone about this?"

"Us, you mean?"

"Yeah. Paris will most likely be a problem."

"Are you saying you can't handle him?"

"I'm saying that the Captain would not appreciate any kind of disruption on her ship," he pointed out.

"Okay, you have a point there," B'Elanna allowed. "So let's keep it on a need-to-know basis."

He nodded. "I like it," he agreed. "After all, we're still building this relationship. There'll be plenty of time to share later. For now, let's keep it the way it's always been with us."

"Like in the Maquis, you mean."

"Yes," he agreed, reaching for her once more. He bit her and she growled again, appreciatively.

"Just between friends."

The End

•  This is the 5th in the Just Between Series.  It was written in August of 1998 and takes place after the events in Hope & Fear.

• Dedicated to my readers (including my betas) who offered suggestions and ideas for this story.

Just Between Enemies
G.L. Dartt

Striding briskly down the corridor on deck six, Janeway paused before large doors to the holodeck, and frowned as she tried to access the controls to enter without success. She made a second attempt, looking closer at the readout, and realized there was a high-level privacy seal engaged, sealing the holodeck against casual intruders. The listing on the small console did clear her to enter, provided she key in her command code,, and intrigued by the level of security placed on the program currently running inside, she promptly entered the proper encryption, walking through the grudgingly parted doors with eager anticipation

She was surprised to find herself walking onto Voyager's bridge.

She blinked, her eyes grey with confusion as she looked around, experiencing a few seconds of disorientation, and wondering if she had somehow lost track of where she was. It all sounded and appeared completely normal, a regular day in the Delta Quadrant, 60,000 light-years from the Federation, with the alpha shift all present and accounted for. To Janeway's right, her chief of security stood at his post at tactical, eyeing her curiously, eyebrow raised.

"Tuvok?"

"Is something wrong, Captain?" he asked politely. A tall, slender man with elegantly pointed ears, his dark-skinned face displayed an inquiring expression, which was about as much emotion as Vulcans allowed themselves to exhibit.

She took a slow breath. "No," she responded. "I'm fine."

She glanced to her left, discovered the dark-haired Lt. Harry Kim manning the operations console, while at the front of the bridge, the boyish Lt. Tom Paris sat at the helm, navigating the ship. There was however, no one manning the port and starboard science stations. A mistake, she noted. Those auxiliary stations were usually manned during the alpha rotation, or during an alert status by junior officers.  There were no junior officers present at all. As she walked down the stairs to the main bridge area, she wondered why her astrometrics officer would run a simulation utilizing the ship's senior command crew?

Seven of Nine had been the Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01, assigned to assist Captain Janeway of the USS Voyager when the Starfleet captain found herself having to affiliate herself with  the Borg Collective ... the greatest enemy the Federation had ever known. Somehow, the captain had managed to get her ship through that sector of space safely, though the addition of the Borg drone to her crew had been an unexpected and, in many of her crew's opinion, a most unwanted side-effect.

Janeway's falling in love with the frighteningly brilliant, willful and arrogant young woman was even more unexpected.

While Seven's reasoning for her actions didn't always made sense to the people surrounding her, Janeway knew that it inevitably worked out in the end. Since Seven was now her friend, lover, and partner, sharing both her quarters and her life, the very least Janeway could do, was play along with the young woman's simulation until the situation became further clarified.

She nodded politely to the holographic representative of Chakotay as he stood up, relinquishing the captain's chair to her. His appearance, his body language, his expression, it was all so incredibly accurate. For a second, she had another wave of discomfort wash over her. He was a hologram, wasn't he? She lowered her compact form into the command chair, and glanced uneasily over at the darkly handsome, broad-shouldered first officer who sank into his own seat next to her.

"Status?" she asked, for lack of anything better to say.

He shook his head, dark eyes crinkling as he smiled. "All systems normal," he said. A tribal tattoo ran over his left brow to his temple, and the insignia at his collar denoted him as an ex-Maquis though at one time, he had indeed been a member of Starfleet before resigning to join the rebel group.

She nodded, trying hard to figure out what Seven was up to, musing that this was completely unlike the analytical, painfully blunt person the Borg had developed into. Seven found little value in the holodeck, disdaining its use most of the time as inefficient, and another example of the Human need for illusion. Janeway found herself going over the list of possibilities in her head. Was this some sort of Borg battle simulation Seven wanted to warn the captain about? Or perhaps it was an engineering technique she wanted to demonstrate. It occurred to Janeway that the young woman had been working on a new version of the slipstream technology for some time now, in the hopes that Voyager could make a more timely return to Earth. Could that be what she wanted to show the captain?

Janeway heard the hiss of the turbolift, and she turned to see the woman in question enter the bridge, striding purposely down the stairs to take up a position directly in front of the captain, hands linked formally behind her back. Standing almost six feet tall, with ice-blue eyes and blonde hair pulled back in an austere bun, Seven of Nine was a formidable figure. Assimilated at age six, the gray metallic implants on her face, one which framed her left eye, and the other that adorned her right cheek where the jawline terminated just under the earlobe, were stark reminders of her eighteen years with the Borg Collective. She was dressed in a brownish mesh outfit that covered her like a second skin, revealing generous curves and long legs.

"What is it, Seven?" Janeway asked curiously as beside her, Chakotay favored the ex-Borg with an inquiring look.

"I have completed my duties in astrometrics," Seven informed the captain. "I am aware that your duty shift ends in two-point-six minutes."

"And?" Janeway inquired tentatively though for some reason, she was experiencing a distinct sense of deja vu.

"I believe we now have an appropriate period of time for us to 'make love'," Seven offered. "Since this morning left us an insufficient amount."

Janeway raised an eyebrow as she recognized where her feeling of repetition was coming from. Months before, when their romantic relationship was still in its infancy, this exact scenario had played out for real on the bridge. At the time, Janeway had been convinced it was possible to actually die from acute humiliation, but since she somehow survived the moment, she supposed it had only served to make her stronger. It had definitely made her more adaptable to her partner's behavioral patterns, and while she didn't know why Seven was replaying it now, she was quite willing to go along.

She leaned back in her chair, stretching out her legs to cross them at the ankles, and linking her hands comfortably across her belly. It was a completely different reaction from the one she had experienced originally. Then, profoundly mortified, she couldn't hustle Seven off the bridge and into her ready room fast enough.

"Indeed." Janeway managed to maintain a straight face. "Right now?"

"That would be acceptable," Seven said, and reached up to the back of her neck where her outfit fastened, undoing it and pulling it off her shoulders and chest, revealing full breasts tipped with delicate pink nipples.

Bemused, Janeway blinked, swallowing hard as she glanced at the Chakotay hologram beside her. He seemed totally unmoved by the sight of the Borg undressing before their eyes. He was watching, but in a detached manner, as if the young woman were reading a not-very-interesting report to him.

"Uh, Seven," the captain asked, smiling a bit nervously. "Do you want to tell me what this is about?"

Seven slipped her suit over her hips, dropping it to the floor where she kicked it off, the discarded outfit sailing through the air to drape over the operations console. The Harry Kim hologram casually brushed it aside, and continued to study his console professionally, leaving the suit crumpled on the deck like a monument to the real lieutenant's unfulfilled, and unrewarded, crush on the Borg.

"Your fantasy," Seven told her, standing gloriously naked before the captain's eyes. "I wish to make it a reality ... or as close as I am able."

Janeway felt her eyebrows do their level best to crawl off her forehead. That had been the topic of an intimate discussion some weeks before, some pillow talk she barely remembered, about fantasies and that the captain's most secret one was to make love in her command chair. It had been an amusing, delightfully silly conversation that clearly Seven had not forgotten in the least. It had not occurred to Janeway to ever take it into the holodeck. In fact, sexual fantasies utilizing holograms had always seemed somewhat  ... tawdry to the captain, cheapening the experience. Not the sort of thing that she, personally, would ever indulge in. Of course, this was not a hologram in front of her standing ready and waiting, a combination of scientific curiousty, and honest desire lending a sort of innocent wantonness to her narrow features. Seven of Nine was very much the real thing and Janeway felt her respiration rate increase as sudden desire shot through her, shocking her with its intensity.

"Oh," she said huskily. "Thank you, Seven." She glanced around at the holograms present. "Why the crew?"

Seven shrugged lightly. "This is the simulation the Doctor provided for my socialization lessons," she explained. "Exercise 17: 'Bridge Banter for Beginners'. Do you wish me to delete them from the scenario?"

Janeway considered that for a moment as she regarded her partner's body with open appreciation. "I don't know," she responded finally, with an honesty she was unprepared for. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with them here yet . . . I can't deny there's something appealing in having them present."

"They are only limited holograms," Seven reminded her as she leaned over the captain, placing her hands on the arms of the command chair, and bending down to kiss Janeway gently. "Not like the Doctor or Sek who are sentient holograms. These do not care how we act in front of them. They are not programmed to react."

"I assumed that," Janeway murmured, running her hands up Seven's arms to her shoulders. "I just don't want them to perform a running commentary on my technique as we proceed."

"They will only speak when spoken to," Seven told her, kissing her again. She frowned suddenly, drawing back a little. "I am unaware of the logistics needed to make love in your command chair. You must instruct me."

Janeway laughed, torn between feeling incredibly aroused, and exceptionally silly. "To be honest, I've never really figured it out," she admitted. "I guess we'll have to make it up as we go along."

"Very well," Seven said. She raked her with a considering look. "Would you like me to undress you?"

"That's probably a good place to start," Janeway agreed.

She tried to relax in her chair as Seven knelt in front of her, starting with the captain's boots, pulling them off and tossing them aside negligently. Janeway made a note of where they landed, in the awful event that she was required to grab them in a hurry. She lifted her hips a little while Seven grasped the waistband of the captain's trousers along with her undergarments, and drew them down her legs. She swallowed back the sudden wild laugh that bubbled up inside her when she saw Seven hand the clothing to the Chakotay hologram, who neatly folded them and placed them tidily on the ledge between the captain's chair and the first officer's chair.

This is entirely too weird, Janeway thought, but she could not deny that it was keenly exciting at the same time. She forced herself not to think about what a ship's counselor might say about all this.

Seven unfastened Janeway's tunic, pushing it off her shoulders, and the captain shrugged out of it, lifting her arms up for Seven to pull off her sweater and bra. They too were handed to Chakotay who promptly added them to the rest of the uniform as if he was some sort of valet, waiting patiently for the next article of clothing to be handed to him, though he was doomed to disappointment. Janeway wondered idly if he would help them dress when they were finished, and had to suppress another laugh.

Nude, and feeling remarkably vulnerable, Janeway regarded Seven who was still kneeling before her, hands resting lightly on the top of the captain's thighs. "Now what?" she asked huskily.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I am thinking," she informed her.

"Oh," Janeway said.

Apparently, deciding that some physical contact would aid in her contemplation, Seven leaned forward, cupping Janeway's face in her palms, and kissing her deeply, sliding her tongue between her lips to taste her. The captain made a small sound in the back of her throat, closing her eyes as she entwined her arms around Seven's neck, kissing her back passionately. For a few moments, Janeway forgot about where she was, and it was a jolt when she opened her eyes, glancing inadvertently over Seven's shoulder and seeing the back of the Paris hologram at the helm.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Her attention abruptly returned to Seven who had trailed down over the captain's chin, kissing her neck and shoulders, her fingers stroking her chest and stomach with delicious intent. Janeway raised her head to give her lover more access, raising her eyes to regard the bridge ceiling.

"Um, love," she asked. "How long do we have the holodeck?"

"Four hours," Seven murmured against her throat. "I made an arrangement with Lt. James, Ensign Hickman and Ensign Wildman to acquire their allotted time surrounding our regularly scheduled Velocity match."

"Hmm," Janeway noted thoughtfully. "I did wonder why you wanted to meet me two hours early. Did you have to tell them why?"

"No," Seven replied and resumed her meandering path that was driving Kathryn to distraction. "They did not ask, and I did not volunteer the information."

"Wonderful," Janeway said softly as she arched into the blonde's touch. "Annika, darling, I think I've come up with a way we can manage this."

An intrigued expression on her narrow features, Seven stopped what she was doing and leaned back on her heels as Janeway got up from the command chair, then directed Seven to take a seat which the Borg obediently did, looking up at her keenly. Janeway straddled the taller woman, sitting across her lanky thighs with her knees jammed in between the arms of the chair and Seven's legs. She rested her hands on Seven's shoulders, looking down at her lover with a gentle smile.

"Would this work?" she asked.

"I believe it will," Seven noted coolly, running her hands over the body resting on her. "This is indeed, more efficient and my access to you has improved greatly."

"Access is definitely good," Janeway said, smiling wantonly as she felt Seven's fingertips on her skin, the Borg stroking her small breasts lightly at first, then with more authority, covering them with her palms. And best of all, when the captain opened her eyes, all she could see was the rear of the bridge yet the slight motion of the Kim and Tuvok holograms out of both corners of her gaze gave her the sense of her ship operating normally around her. It was outrageously stimulating, remarkably evocative and entirely too wicked for a country girl from a simple agricultural community in Indiana.

Janeway was loving every second of it.

"This was a wonderful idea," she complimented, squirming luxuriously as Seven ran her hands liberally over her.

"I am glad you are enjoying it," Seven said in a tone of satisfaction.

"I am," Janeway allowed. She trembled as Seven leaned forward to kiss her breasts, the Borg swirling the tip of her tongue around the nipple gently while Janeway raked her hands restlessly through the long, golden hair. "Tell me, is the conference room replicated as well?" Remembering that Seven's secret fantasy had involved a staff meeting and the conference table.

"It is prepared." Seven mumbled around the soft flesh between her lips.

Janeway laughed.

"That's what I love about you darling," she said, catching her breath as pleasure rippled through her.

"Your amazing attention to detail."

Captain Janeway stepped onto the bridge and strolled casually to her chair, utilizing all her indomitable will to prevent herself from blushing furiously. The incredible events of the previous evening had been seared indelibly into her mind, and she didn't think she would ever be able to look at her chair, or the conference room table, the same way again. Or for that matter, the navigation helm, the stairs leading to her ready room, the fore viewscreen or the aft rail running behind the command seating.

Not to mention Chakotay.

She refused to look at him at all, maintaining a straight face with the greatest of difficulty as he wished her a good morning.

"Good morning," she returned carefully. "What's our status?"

He shook his head, dark eyes crinkling as he smiled. "All systems normal," he said. "So how was your evening? Anything interesting happen?"

That was too much. She really shouldn't have talked to him. Not so early in the morning before she had a chance to settle into the routine of the day. She should have known he would ask, to be polite if nothing else. Chakotay was always polite. Folding her uniform neatly as she made wild passionate love in her command chair had been perfectly in character.

To her great horror, she felt the giggles rise up in her with irresistible force and she covered her mouth with both hands. From the corner of her eye, she was acutely aware of his face growing alarmed as she snorted inadvertently. She glanced at his expression, realized that was a mistake she could not recover from, and helplessly burst out laughing, trying to hide her face in her hands. The harder she tried to curb it, the more she laughed, completely unable to contain it.

The rest of the crew, including Lt. Angela James at the port science station and Susan Nicoletti at the starboard engineering post, stared at her with various degrees of astonishment and growing amusement as the captain's helpless mirth gradually infected them. Before long, the entire bridge crew, with the exception of Tuvok who was observing this with vague disapproval, had joined in on her merriment, adding their laughter to hers. Which of course, only incited Janeway to laugh harder until finally, gradually, the bridge crew all laughed themselves out, trailing off to a few assorted snickers, all considerably improved in mind and spirit.

"I'm sorry," the captain managed to gasp to her first officer, sprawling in her chair, holding her ribs as tears trickled down her cheeks. "Please, don't ask me what that was about. I honestly can't even begin to tell you."

"Don't apologize," Chakotay said, waving it off as he chuckled. "God knows, there are few better ways to start the day."

"I know," Janeway replied and with an effort, managed to straighten up in her chair. She carefully wiped the tears from her eyes before leaning over and patting Chakotay on the forearm. "Maybe we should start every day like this."

And end every night like last night, her internal voice added with an evil hoot. Which threatened to set her off again though this time, she was better able to control herself.

"We'll make it a regulation," he said, grinning widely at her.

She realized suddenly that Voyager had become a lot more relaxed lately in its atmosphere. Perhaps it was her relationship with Seven that had provided her with an eye as to what was truly important but she knew that before this, she would have been appalled to have laughed so openly and honestly in front of her crew. Now, she couldn't understand why. Certainly, it didn't affect her crew in any way other than to raise their morale. She made a keen-eyed circuit of the bridge, noting that her people had returned to work immediately, professionally, yet with decidedly cheerful expressions, smiles that lit their gaze and seemed to make the routine a little easier to accept.

Perhaps the old saying was right after all. A happy captain made for a happy ship, and the one thing she couldn't deny was that she was happier than she had ever been in her life, even with being lost in the Delta Quadrant. For that, she would forever be grateful to the tall, cool blonde who had agreed to become her partner.

"What do we know about this area of space?" she asked Chakotay, smiling quietly as she forced herself to focus on work.

He touched the controls at his monitor which resided on the arm of the chair. "We are coming up to an area of space which is inhabited by a people the Borg call Species 1365, the L'Borna. Technology is barely beyond warp stage, and they are just now colonizing the surrounding systems. According to Seven, they're an 'unremarkable' species."

"Not considered useful enough to be added to the Collective, you mean," Janeway said. She sighed a little. "I suppose one must give thanks for small mercies."

"It does make a body think that being unremarkable is not such a bad thing," Chakotay agreed. He made a few notations. "Do you want to stop by, see what they have in the way of supplies? Maybe try for some R&R?"

Janeway considered it. The truth was Voyager was in the best shape it had been since it had left Federation space. A trip to the Beta Quadrant, where an advanced culture had completely overhauled the ship, had strengthened the hull and tweaked both propulsion and life support to new levels of efficiency. Then, a more recent encounter with an ancient device had transported Chakotay, Seven and the Chief Engineer, B'Elanna Torres back to the Alpha Quadrant. For whatever reason, all three had decided to return to Voyager, to the vessel they considered home, and in the process, had brought back a brand new runabout stuffed to the brim with supplies and upgraded equipment, including enough materials to fully restore the replication system.

Captain Janeway had determined that although they were cut off from the Federation, Voyager would continue to explore space, seek out new civilizations and boldly go wherever and whenever possible in the finest traditions of Starfleet. This seemed like another one of those occasions, yet, at the same time, it was not practical for them to stop and study every single group of aliens they came across. Otherwise, the 60 years they were looking at to reach the Alpha Quadrant could easily turn into 60 centuries. She had to make a decision which would be best for the ship and her crew, though she did allow herself a few seconds of quiet enjoyment at the fact that it was not life-threatening or monumental or even particularly significant in the overall scheme of things. It was a purely scientific decision. Was it worth stopping to study this civilization or should they continue their journey to the next, no doubt, more interesting group of systems?

Janeway pursed her lips. Seven had said these aliens were unremarkable. There were too many remarkable things in space to waste time with the ordinary.

"Let's bypass this one," she said. "Why shake up their society when we don't have to?"

He grinned. "I thought you liked shaking up societies," he said in a low voice.

She eyed him admonishingly, though with a hint of a smile on her face. Teasing her on her own bridge now? "I'm settling down," she said.

"Ah," he replied. "Seven's domesticating influence."

"Is there a reason you wanted to stop by these planets?" she asked, ignoring the last because she felt it was uncomfortably close to the truth.

He shrugged lightly. "Not especially but..." he shot a look at the front of the bridge where the helm resided and lowered his voice even further. "B'Elanna and I were hoping for a little R&R together soon."

Janeway felt her eyebrow raise and hoped she didn't look as disapproving as she felt. Voyager's chief engineer had just broken up with Tom Paris, the ship's navigator, and apparently had discovered a new closeness with the first officer, both of whom had been with the Maquis when the captain had first encountered them. In fact, it had been Chakotay's resistance cell that her vessel had been pursuing when both ships had been swept into the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker's transport beam.

Janeway liked Chakotay, and trusted him implicitly, never once regretting the decision that made him her first officer when Voyager's violent arrival in the Delta Quadrant had killed his predecessor. He was strong, handsome, honest, and amazingly courageous. Truth be told, if circumstances had been a little different, she and he might have actually reached a romantic understanding themselves.

But she was also very fond of Tom Paris, and it was her steadfast belief that he and the feisty B'Elanna Torres belonged together. It was not her place, of course, to interfere with the love lives of her crew, but she did try to help out where she could. In this case, if it meant a little diverting of a planned R&R together, where was the harm? It would keep the way open for Paris to make up with the Klingon and with any luck, the helmsman would take advantage of it.

"Sorry," she said, trying not to smile. "We'd need a better reason than that to delay our voyage."

"Captain, long range sensors are picking up an inter-system distress call," Harry Kim said suddenly from his place at ops. "Apparently there is a group of L'Borna ships attempting to divert an asteroid from striking their planet. One of the ships has been damaged and is drifting directly into its path."

Janeway took a breath. All right, so they would have to stop by after all, she thought ruefully. That didn't mean Chakotay and B'Elanna would get their shot at R&R.

"Tom, set a course to the system," she said, feeling the excited tingle go through her as it always did when Voyager leapt into action. "Lt. Kim, scan the damaged ship, see if they require our assistance or if they can handle it themselves. Tuvok, run an analysis on the asteroid. Do they have the capability to stop it?"

Her crew set to work with an air of expectation and a subdued excitement. Perhaps things had been a bit too quiet lately. They were, after all, still the sort of people who would go out into space just to see what they could see, so a little bit of action was a welcome distraction.

Within moments, the answers were being presented to her.

"Captain, they lack transporter capabilities. One of the other ships is trying to get close enough to dock in order to rescue the crew from the damaged ship, but they don't seem to be having much luck. It's tumbling too randomly." Harry said, his voice rising a little at the end. Even after five years, the young man fresh out of the Academy when he joined Voyager still displayed a bit of greenness on occasion.

The security chief, with his steady calm, was a marked contrast to the operations officer. "The asteroid is 9 kilometers by 13 kilometers in shape, and 20 kilometers long," Tuvok recited coolly. "It is considerably larger than the capabilities of L'Borna technology to destroy it or even divert it significantly. The projected course has it impacting on their home planet in 12 days which will completely wipe out all life on that world."

Janeway found herself looking at her first officer. Chakotay raised a brow sardonically. "Talk about shaking up a society," he noted.

"Considerably," Janeway agreed. She stood up. "Lt. Kim, open a channel to the L'Borna."

She unconsciously straightened, shoulders back, head raised proudly as the fore viewscreen flickered to reveal the anxious features of a L'Borna space-goer. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. We were passing by and noticed your difficulty. Can we offer assistance?"

The L'Borna were a tall, slim race with narrow features and full manes of hair streaked with orange and black on a predominantly brownish base. The eyes were large and wide, greenish-gold with slitted pupils and there was a faint hint of whiskers around the nose, which ran up to blend with the skull ridge over the brows.

Cats, Janeway thought idly. They looked like big cats. Too bad she was a dog person. Cats always tended to make her sneeze.

The L'Borna, clearly startled as anyone would be in . . . his? . . . position, nodded with amazing aplomb. "We give thanks Voyager," he said formally. "I am Marshal L'Nair of the L'Borna task force. My ship is the Klews. One of our brother vessels has drifted into the path of the killer rock."

"Send your rescue vessel clear," Janeway instructed. "We'll be able to pull the damaged ship out of there with a tractor beam."

"Understood," L'Nair responded.

The viewscreen flickered again to return to a view of space, of the looming mass of rock bearing down on the small ships in its path. One of the tiny vessels broke off, flying quickly to safety, leaving the other drifting helplessly before the behemoth.

"Tom," she said tightly. "Get them out of there."

"Understood," Lt. Paris said, hands moving swiftly over his helm. Voyager leaped forward, a tractor beam shooting out from its stern to scoop up the small vessel dwarfed by the Federation vessel which in turn, was a mere speck against the mountain tumbling towards them.

Janeway felt her hairline dampen as they scooted out of the path of destruction with bare seconds to spare. That was a great deal closer than she would have liked but glancing around the bridge she realized she was the only one apprehensive about it. The rest seemed to take it in stride, having complete faith in their ship and in her.

"Captain, we're being hailed," Harry said.

"On screen."

L'Nair appeared, eyes shining. "Our gratitude, Voyager," he said. "If there is anything we can offer?"

"We were glad to help," Janeway responded. "Marshall L'Nair, our sensors indicate that the asteroid is on a collision course with your planet?" She spoke delicately. Her experience with diplomacy dictated that she tread lightly when telling a people they didn't have what it took to do the job. "Could we offer assistance there as well?"

L'Nair stared at her a moment. "Your capabilities are far beyond ours," he said flatly, clearly uninterested in pride when it came to this threat to his homeworld. "Can you destroy this thing? Already, several advance meteors have impacted our planet, causing great damage and suffering, but nothing that my people cannot recover from. This however, will kill our world and none of our scientists have come up with a way for us to stop it. Yet we must try, even if it means ramming it with our ships."

Janeway made a gesture behind her back, indicating to Harry that he was to cut the audio, then glanced at Tuvok who had been continually scanning the asteroid.

"It is comprised of common elements," he replied. "A typical representative of the remains of an exploded planetoid. Two photon torpedoes should be able to break it into small pieces that their energy beam weapons can safely destroy."

Janeway nodded. It would be quicker of course, for Voyager to use their phasers to vaporize the whole thing entirely but it was possible to help too much. Most species liked to participate in their own salvation whenever possible and tended to feel a little resentful of some superior lifeform coming in and solving all their problems with ease. Humans included.

She turned back to the screen as Harry resumed the channel. It was all very smooth and well-orchestrated and she allowed herself a second of prideful assessment of her crew.

"Marshall L'Nair, we have weapons that can break up the asteroid, but your vessels will have to take care of the smaller pieces," she told him with an earnest expression.

"We will," L'Nair responded, nostrils flaring in anticipation. "Our vessels are the finest of the L'Borna fleet. If you can strike a blow at this killer, we will finish it off."

Janeway raised a brow at the statement and tried not to smile. "Stand by, Klews," she said and turned back to Chakotay. "Do it."

Voyager took a position immediately below the asteroid and fired torpedoes at precise points calculated to within millimeters by Tuvok to cause the most damage, shattering the chunk of rock into many smaller pieces. The L'Borna leaped into action with unrestrained glee, darting around the space debris, each other and, on far too many harrowing occasions, Voyager herself as they made sure nothing would get by them to further endanger their home. Janeway sat in her chair, gripping the arms of it with white knuckles as time and again, the tiny ships skimmed far too close to the hull of her precious vessel in their wild strafing runs, firing their beams indiscriminately. Twice, the Federation vessel had to use their tractor beam to reach out and snag two of the task force when their enthusiasm in destroying the fragments led perilously close to disastrous collisions.

Finally, when the L'Borna started going after meteors that were on trajectories that in no way threatened to come anywhere close to their planet, she decided to call a stop to it, hailing the lead ship to wish them farewell.

"Marshall L'Nair," she said, raising an eyebrow. "It was our honor to make your acquaintance."

"Captain, you must return with us to our planet," he said, eyes wide in excitement. "Such a celebration has never been seen on L'Borna. We shall be received as the greatest heroes of all time."

"I'm sure," Janeway allowed with a smile. "But we must resume our journey."

"I will not take 'no' for an answer, Captain," he said firmly.

He meant it too, Janeway decided an hour later after having exhausted every polite, and less than polite way of getting out of it. Honestly, these people had the Ferengi beat cold in coming up with offers, and counter proposals that inevitably sucked the intended target into doing exactly what they wanted, while making it sound like it was the other person's idea. It would have taken a far better negotiator than she to avoid this request, she thought crankily, as her ship dutifully followed the L'Borna task-force back to their homeworld.

"Don't feel bad," Chakotay said, leaning over. "They really do need help with the damage the prior meteors caused on their world, and it sounds like the celebration is going to be incredible. Consider it a mission of mercy."

"How do I let myself get talked into these things?" she grumbled.

He laughed. "From where I sat," he noted. "He could have talked any one of us into buying a piece of that meteor as a souvenir."

Janeway crossed her arms across her chest and glowered at the screen.

The gigantic crater in the earth stretched out for almost a kilometer in diameter, still smoking lightly from the hunk of rock buried deep at the bottom. Seven of Nine was suitably impressed, as was chief engineer B'Elanna Torres, who was standing beside her. A solid woman with dark hair and eyes, Torres's Klingon heritage, as well as her Human Latina influence, infused her with a fiery disposition that more than compensated for her small size.

"They were damned lucky this missed the main part of the coast," B'Elanna noted dryly.

"The area is lightly populated," Seven agreed coolly. "Had this struck the L'Borna's capital, the death toll would have been staggering and the city completely destroyed." She raised an eyebrow. "However, in that case, there would be no pressing need to replace the power plant."

"That's right, Seven," B'Elanna said, shooting her a sideways glance. "Always look on the bright side." She studied the readings on her tricorder and then cast a judicious glance at the ridge nearby. She nudged Seven and pointed at a flat area at the bottom. "I think that would be the best place to build it."

"I concur," Seven said. She looked back at the rest of the construction crew who were waiting patiently. Comprised of Voyager crew and L'Borna engineers, they were ready and willing to start work immediately. The power plant which provided the energy for the greater part of the east coast had been destroyed in the meteor shower which had preceded the discovery of the planet-killer headed toward them. It had been determined that rebuilding it was of the greatest priority. "What is the estimated time of completion?"

B'Elanna squinted as she followed her gaze. "Constructing the shell of the building is no problem," she said. "We can get that up in a matter of hours using tractor beams from the runabout. The replacement equipment is ready to be transported in immediately. Hooking it all up and making sure it's operating properly is going to take the bulk of the time. Two, maybe three days. Until then, the L'Borna will just have to operate on their emergency reserves."

"They are an efficient species," Seven said approvingly. "Well prepared for emergencies. Perhaps the Borg were premature in determining they were unremarkable."

"I bet they'd be thrilled to hear that," B'Elanna noted. "Be sure to tell them."

Seven studied her a moment. "You are being facetious," she said finally.

"What was your first clue?" the engineer snorted as they walked down the slope towards the rest of the engineering team.

"The tone of your voice," Seven responded promptly. "The way your eyebrow raises which affects the angle of the ridges on your forehead, the twitch at the corner of your mouth, the..."

"All right," B'Elanna interrupted. "I get the picture." She shook her head and focused her attention on L'Maran, the native who was heading up the project. "I've mapped out the best place for our transporters to be able to function most efficiently," she told him. "Whenever you give the word, we can start."

"Please," he said. "Let us begin right away."

Since Voyager would be providing most of the technology needed to rebuild so quickly, the L'Borna presence was token at best, but he apparently appreciated the offer, polite in both gestures and mannerisms, fairly radiating gratitude to them. Seven found these beings to be a reasonably acceptable race, though she was aware B'Elanna found them bland and unassuming. 'Milk toast' was actually how the chief engineer had described them. Seven had been required to look that up in the database to discover what it actually meant. It was not complimentary.

The engineering team set to work, constructing the building first. It went quickly, but consisted of a great deal more manual labor than Seven was used to. The day was hot, the sun shining directly down on the workers in the clearing, and when the call came to break for lunch, Seven was more than willing to sit down on a convenient beam to rest. It was unfamiliar work, the Borg considered as she took stock of the unusual aches in her body, but somehow gratifying. She was observing her palms with interest when B'Elanna plopped down beside her with two ration packs.

"Something wrong, Seven?" she asked.

"I have developed marks on my hand," Seven responded. She held out her right appendage out for B'Elanna's inspection.

"Ouch," B'Elanna said, wincing as she saw the blisters that had formed on Seven's palm. "Stay here, I'll be right back." She placed the ration packs on the beam, and scooted off for the medikit.

"They are uncomfortable," Seven noted as B'Elanna repaired her hand with a dermal regenerator.

"You're just not used to hard work," B'Elanna responded. "Too much button pushing up there in the astrometrics lab, and not enough physical exertion in engineering. You should come on down and work with me more often.  That would toughen you up."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "There was a time when you did not want my presence in engineering at all," she reminded her, mindful of the many conflicts they had engaged in when the Borg had first come aboard Voyager.

B'Elanna was quiet while she finished healing the blisters, then shut the regenerator off. "Yeah, well," she said finally, in a thoughtful tone, totally unlike her usual brisk manner. "You've sort of grown on me, Seven." She flashed her a grin, and Seven found that she was returning the smile without thinking about it.

"Would you call me Annika?" she said abruptly.

B'Elanna paused as she passed Seven a ration pack, eyeing her somberly. "You don't ask just anyone to call you that, do you?" she allowed with surprise.

"No, I do not," Seven said, wondering why she had decided on this course of action, but nonetheless, it felt correct. Though Annika Hansen was the name accorded her at birth, it was not one she had used since age six. "In truth, only the Captain has ever referred to me by my original designation."

B'Elanna blinked, took a breath. "Then I'm flattered, Se--Annika," she replied, opening up her ration pack and sliding out a tray of Starfleet Ration #473. Mashed potatoes, turkey, dressing and carrots automatically heated when the packet was unsealed. "Names mean a lot to Klingons. Thank you."

"You are welcome," Seven responded, though why B'Elanna was thanking her was somewhat unclear. She opened her own rations, SR #502; potatoes, corn, apple crumb, and two brown pieces of something she could not identify. "What is this?"

B'Elanna glanced over, already chewing her first mouthful of reconstituted potatoes. "I think it's fried chicken," she mumbled around her food.

"'Chicken?'" Seven regarded her dubiously.

B'Elanna snickered. "Well, chicken-flavored protein shaped into pieces," she elaborated. "What's the matter, 'Nik, don't like chicken?"

Seven took note of B'Elanna's immediate diminution of her name, assessed it with careful deliberation and decided she did not really mind, though it would take her time to learn to answer to it. It was certainly a considerable improvement on what B'Elanna had originally called her back when she first joined Voyager. Some of the Klingon words Seven had never been able to translate.

"I enjoy chicken," Seven responded after taking a bite, chewing gingerly and swallowing. "However, I am unsure that is what this is supposed to be. It bears little resemblance to the protein I replicate."

"Well, that's the appeal of ration packs," B'Elanna told her.

Seven realized that the Klingon/Human hybrid was being facetious once again, and sighed as she consumed the rest of her pack, not letting any go to waste. She assumed her problem was that while in the Alpha Quadrant, Kathryn's mother, Gretchen Janeway, had taken the time to teach Seven how to properly cook meals utilizing replicated ingredients. As a result, the Borg had been doing all the cooking for herself and the captain whenever possible, having discovered a quiet enjoyment in preparing and consuming good food.

It made having to eat this a very unpalatable alternative.

She placed the empty tray and wrapping in the small disposal container where it was instantly vaporized to its molecular components, and looked at B'Elanna. The engineer was taking advantage of the remaining allotment of time for their lunch break to stretch out on the ground, and stare up at the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. She had a piece of grass stuck between her teeth, chewing it idly as she linked her hands behind her head.

Unobtrusively, Seven picked a piece of grass for herself and tasted it, finding it only a minor improvement over her ration pack. "What are you doing?" she asked finally.

B'Elanna grinned. "Finding shapes in the clouds," she said. She raised an arm and pointed at one. "That looks like a targe."

"Indeed," Seven responded, intrigued. She lay down beside the engineer, and followed the direction of her pointed finger. "I do not see it."

"It's an imagination thing," B'Elanna explained, with none of her usual impatience coloring her tone. "You have to sort of let your mind wander, and associate the shape of the cloud with other things."

"Why?" Seven asked.

B'Elanna shrugged. "It's fun," she said. "Most people start doing it when they're kids. Didn't you ever do it before you were assimilated?"

Seven thought hard, trying to remember. "I am unable to recall," she said finally.

She was surprised when B'Elanna reached over, and patted her on her belly sympathetically. "That's okay, 'Nik," she said. "It's relaxing to do it as an adult as well."

"All right," Seven said.

For the remainder of the rest period, Seven tried to decipher shapes from the random movement of the clouds above her, squinting at the fluffy masses of water vapor as they were carried along on the wind. She did not quite succeed, but she did find it soothing to lie in the grass, looking up at the sky. She could smell the earthy odor of growing things around her, the faint trace of ozone from the crater, and the dust from the construction area. A low murmur of conversation from the other workers reached her ears, overlaid by the thin whine from insects, and the bright twittering of birds in the nearby trees. A faint breeze brushed against her face, and the warmth of the sun penetrated to her bones, making her drowsy.

She compared it to the Indiana simulation Kathryn occasionally ran in the holodeck where they would take walks, and realized that there was a difference between that and this real planet. Subtle, elusive, but still distinct. Perhaps it was the difference in Earth versus L'Borna, but Seven did not think so.

It was more defined than that. She could easily determine the different shades of green in the foliage, and the blue of the sky of this planet as opposed to the one where Kathryn had been born. No, it wasn't the difference between worlds, it was the difference between simulation and reality. She was quite intrigued by this, and continued to ponder it even after the lunch break was over and they had returned to work. She found herself wondering if Kathryn had ever noticed it, and if the fantasy programmed for the holodeck two days before had been as good as the reality would have been.

She would have to ask Kathryn at the first opportunity.

With rapidly diminishing patience, Captain Janeway regarded the L'Borna sitting in front of her. The ruling Council had been trying to press various items on her for the past hour in gratitude for the Federation's assistance, items that she thought they could ill afford to give away, and Voyager had absolutely no use for. It was taking all of her negotiating skills to arrange a mutually beneficial package of thanks which would save face for them, and prevent Janeway from having to accept supplies she did not want or need.

It was extremely difficult. While the L'Borna matched the Ferengi in convoluted bargaining, that was where the similarity ended. Apparently, it was a mark of honor to be able to give more than one received, the complete opposite of the big-eared merchants back in the Alpha Quadrant. Janeway was somewhat horrified to realize she was longing for some good old-fashioned selfishness as she went over the list of gifts being pressed on her, making sure they hadn't slipped in the entire contents of the city treasury when she wasn't looking.

"This is acceptable," she said finally, looking up to meet the gold-green gaze of the L'Borna ruling council.

Beside her, the Emergency Medical Assistant Hologram, Sek, watched this with interest as beyond her, the ship's cook and all round Delta Quadrant alien-of-all-trades, Neelix, heaved a sigh of relief that Janeway could hear distinctly ... and hoped her hosts could not. She realized that this had gone on for so long that even the Talaxian had begun to think they would never get out of here, and he had been fidgeting ever since the sounds of the celebration outside the palace penetrated through the large windows of the palace. It was promised to be one of the more extravagant parties they had ever encountered but then, Janeway reminded herself, it wasn't every day an entire planet found itself saved from the brink of extinction. Now that the negotiations were over, she could accord the crew some shore leave, assured that they were in for a good time.

L'Branan, the counsel's Marshal, nodded in grave acceptance. "We will never forget the name of Voyager," she said, coming to her feet. "It will be passed down to our children, and our children's children for as long as our species shall exist. Whatever we have will always be yours for the asking."

"You have been exceedingly generous in your gifts," Janeway said. "We will cherish them forever."

There were a few more pleasantries exchanged and when the formalities were over, Janeway took the opportunity to find a quiet spot to contact the ship. Chakotay's voice replied promptly.

"Everything going well, Captain?"

"So far," she agreed. "The L'Borna are assembling a collection of gifts in the main square to present to us in a formal ceremony two days from now when the power plant comes back on line. I think it would be better if we took them back on the runabout rather than try to beam them up. I'll keep the Mississippi here for the rest of our stay.  In the meantime, you can start preparing for shore leave."

"That might not be a good idea, Captain," he said. "Long range sensors are picking up the formation of an ion storm, and we know that will screw up transporter signals at the best of times."

"Ion storm?" Janeway repeated.

So much for shore leave, she thought with a frown. The deep space storms had an unpredictable manner, and while they did not affect planetary bodies, they inevitably played havoc with various ship systems if one was unfortunate enough to be caught in the heart of one, even a ship as technologically advanced as Voyager.

"I think you should move the ship out of range, just to be safe," she told him. "In fact, continue on to the next group of systems, and we'll catch up to you in a few days. That way, there's no backtracking, and we won't continue to lose time off our journey. I really don't want to offend the L'Borna by leaving without their gifts."

"If that's what you want," Chakotay responded, and she could hear the surprise in his voice.

"I think it's the most prudent course of action," she said. "I'm going to send the bulk of the away teams back to the ship. What little is left to do here can be handled by myself, Neelix, Sek, Seven, B'Elanna and the pilot of the runabout. Initiate the general recall immediately, before the transporters are affected." She held her breath slightly, wondering if he had noticed her deliberate omission.

"Understood," Chakotay said.

If he noticed that Tom Paris, who had been assigned to pilot the Mississippi, was being left behind as well, he didn't comment on it. Janeway wondered briefly if he hadn't put it together, or if he didn't care. In any event, with some luck and a little bit of judicious help, Tom and B'Elanna might have an opportunity to patch things up.

Pleased with herself, she keyed the channel closed and looked at the rest of her crew who were remaining behind. "That is, unless you two want to return to the ship rather than stay here?" she asked, somewhat belatedly.

Neelix shook his head. Short, stocky, his speckled head, tufted sideburns and golden eyes making him resemble a Terran warthog, he had proven to be a valuable addition to her crew, though his breezy manner sometimes belied the deeper person she knew he was. "Not me, Captain," he said. "I like the L'Borna, and I'm looking forward to their party. Maybe I can pick up some tips for the next celebration we have on Voyager."

"What of you, Sek?" Janeway eyed the newest member of her crew curiously.

The hologram had been created to assist the Doctor in sickbay so that he could perform a serious operation on Seven of Nine, and her matrix was based on their fellow crewmember Kes, the Ocampa who had left the ship to continue her evolution into a higher lifeform. What had started as purely a technological project to upgrade sickbay had turned out to have tangled ethical and moral implications regarding the sentience of holograms. There was a time when it seemed that they would have to delete the program altogether, simply to avoid the possible implications of creating sentient beings for the sole purpose of serving the crew. Finally, Janeway had decided to keep the matrix active, and accorded both the Doctor and Sek full crewmember status, though she had been careful to put in place protocols that would prevent her from ever having to make a similar decision in the future.

Sek no longer resembled  the Ocampa in her form. Her short, shaggy mass of hair and her soft eyes retained their light coloration, but her height, and body structure had increased, while she had been accorded more Human features, particularly around the ears. The personality still had the flavor of Kes however, calm, rational and very kind, a marked contrast to the sarcastic Doctor's matrix.

"I would very much like to remain, Captain," she responded. The voice was also still Kes's, lyrical, almost velvet in tone. "I am finding my first away mission to be a fascinating experience."

The engineering crew had built a portable emitter for the hologram which allowed her to leave the ship. This was its first test and so far, it was working remarkably well.

Janeway nodded. "I thought you might like staying," she admitted. Though the hologram was not her friend Kes, the captain had found herself warming quickly to the personality. It was an odd concept, being friends with a hologram. A living hologram, she reminded herself pointedly. It had made her re-evaluate her relationship with the Doctor, as well.

She touched her comm badge once more. "Janeway to Paris," she said.

"Paris here."

"Lieutenant, what's your status?" she asked.

"Chakotay's beamed up most of the away team," he said. "Construction on the building was completed a couple of hours ago, and most of the equipment has been transported in. B'Elanna and Seven are starting to align the power transfer relays now."

"Bring the runabout here, and land it in the main square," Janeway said. "I want all my people here in the city at night."

There was a hesitation on the other end. "Uh, Captain, maybe you should instruct Lt. Torres as to what you want yourself?"

Janeway took a breath. That made sense. B'Elanna had been quite adamant about Paris being in her immediate vicinity recently, and she had not warmed at all as time went by. It had been hard enough convincing her to accept him as part of her engineering team, and Janeway had been forced to make it an order, explaining that the chief engineer would need the best pilot they had to manipulate the large building blocks with the runabout. It was only with grudging compliance that the woman finally obeyed. Since her breakup, the hybrid was apparently allowing her more aggressive Klingon side greater dominance, but Janeway wasn't sure if that was a good thing. She didn't really have a lot of experience commanding a full Klingon warrior, and all that implied.

"I'll do that, Tom," she agreed. She closed the channel and keyed her communicator again. "Janeway to Torres."

"Torres here."

"B'Elanna, Lt. Paris has been instructed to bring you and Seven into the city for the evening," she said, her tone brokering no allowance for debate. "Consider yourselves off active duty as of this moment, and head for the runabout."

There was a silence, and Janeway knew B'Elanna was keeping herself from arguing, clamping down on the first outburst that she undoubtedly wanted to say.

"Aye, Captain."

Janeway signed off with a hint of satisfaction on her face. All her little chicks were coming in to roost, and with a little effort, this might actually work out after all.

Seven walked off the runabout with the beginnings of a splitting headache. The entire trip from the outlying area had witnessed Torres and Paris trading spiteful insults and vicious innuendo, the small cockpit's atmosphere dense enough to cut with a knife. She could not understand why Kathryn felt the pair belonged together. Their antagonism was clear, and displayed in the most personally hurtful of ways. Seven had learned far more about their personal habits in the last hour than she had ever cared to know.

She felt a little better when she saw Kathryn standing at one end of the town square, the slim, compact form in its trim red and black uniform a dignified contrast to the colorful garb sported by the celebrating L'Borna who thronged the surrounding area. Seven wanted to run to the captain, leap into her arms and never let go, though of course that was impossible. Even if Seven's greater size and strength did not completely flatten the slighter Janeway, it was understood that a certain decorum was expected by them both while in public. Forcing herself to walk sedately through the crowd, the Borg drank in the sight of her partner and tried to ignore Tom and B'Elanna who continued to bicker behind her.

Standing beside the captain, Neelix and Sek spoke quietly together. Voyager had just left orbit, and Seven knew that the current six were the only Voyager crewmembers remaining on the planet. If the rest seemed concerned by this, they didn't show it so Seven tried very hard to disguise her unease at being away from the ship, from her home, surrounded by all these strangers. However, when she was close enough, she put her hand on the captain's elbow, utilizing their secret signal to indicate she wished to offer an affectionate gesture to Janeway, or more importantly, to recieve one.

Unfortunately, the captain took no note of it as she gathered the group, directing them back to the palace. Seven understood that meant the captain did not feel comfortable about an affectionate gesture at the moment, so she released her grip and followed behind the rest, depression seeping through her like a grey cloud. She lagged behind a little as they went into the palace where they had been accorded guest quarters, and was greatly dismayed to discover she was expected to room with Torres and Sek, rather than with Janeway. Apparently, it was a custom that the leader be held apart from her followers, and Janeway had been given a large suite where she was to stay by herself.

By this time, Seven was thoroughly unhappy, and sat on the edge of the low couch in solitary misery. Sek took the opportunity to occupy herself at a console in the corner of the room, studying her padds, delving deeper into the culture of the L'Borna, while B'Elanna took advantage of the lavish facilities accorded the three Voyager females, cleaning up from her day on the construction site. Seven contemplated the case of  Torres and Lt. Paris, wondering how two people who had been so in love, could change so quickly into enemies. It was a frightening thought. Was it possible that Kathryn would stop loving her? If she did, would the captain then hate her? Would Kathryn then want Seven to stay as far away from her as possible? How could Seven possibly survive that?

When B'Elanna finally returned from her ablutions, Seven was on the verge of tears.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the chief engineer asked, staring at her in bemusement.

"I do not know," Seven said honestly. "I am unhappy."

B'Elanna considered her for a few moments. "Aw, we're both just a little depressed," she said, not unkindly. "I know exactly what we need to get over it. Let's go see what this town has in the way of fun. That's some party they got going out there, and it would be a shame to waste it."

Sek looked up at that, a faintly disturbed expression crossing her face. "Do you think that's wise?" she asked. "I'm positive the captain wants us to remain in the vicinity."

"What are you, our mother?" B'Elanna responded tartly. "Does this mean you don't want to come?"

"I believe I will stay here," Sek allowed. "I am following an intriguing line of research. Are you aware that not all the L'Borna are in favor of space travel? That there are many factions on the planet, and the recent potential catastrophe tipped the balance of power to a faction known as the L'Bree?"

"No, I didn't know that. That's absolutely fascinating, Sek," B'Elanna responded and Seven knew from the tone that the Klingon was being deeply sarcastic, though the hologram did not appear to notice.

"It is indeed," Sek went on. "Would you like me to make a copy of the data for your own research?"

"Yeah, you do that," B'Elanna said, grabbing Seven by the arm and hustling her out the door. "In the meantime, Seven and I are going to paint the town."

"'Paint the town'?" Seven asked as B'Elanna dragged her out of the palace.

"Have a little fun, Seven," B'Elanna explained. "Some R&R."

"Should we not inform the captain?" Seven queried as they strode down the steps of the palace.

B'Elanna shrugged. "We're adults and we're off duty," she said. "We're perfectly capable of looking after ourselves. Come on Seven, what possible trouble could we get into?"

"Are you being facetious again?" Seven asked suspiciously.

B'Elanna just laughed as she led the way off the palace grounds and into the city proper. The streets were illuminated dimly with a minimum of lights because of the damaged power plant but the people themselves seemed to be carrying on as usual. They packed the streets in a seething display of noise and music, a sea of color and celebration. With unerring instinct, the chief engineer wound her way through the mob and managed to find a cozy little tavern just off the main drag. Seven soon found herself seated at a small table in the corner of a busy taproom, a huge mug of golden liquid in front of her.

"What is this?" Seven asked, regarding it with trepidation.

B'Elanna had just finished draining hers and with a grunt of satisfaction, thumped the mug onto the table top and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, belching loudly.

"The L'Borna call it mead," she said. "It's got a nice little kick. Have you ever been drunk, Seven?"

Seven considered the question carefully. "Is that like being 'eaten'?" she offered finally, in a tentative tone. "Kathryn refers to certain of our sexual positions in terms of ingesting nutrition."

"No, nothing like that," B'Elanna protested, looking a bit squeamish. "Damn, will you get your mind off sex for a few minutes, Seven? I mean have you ever been intoxicated."

"Ah," Seven said, finally understanding. "No."

"Then, this will be a new experience, 'Nik," B'Elanna said with a certain satisfaction.  "You have to learn to live a little."

"What is the purpose of doing this?" Seven asked.

"It's fun," B'Elanna stated in a positive tone. "Drink up, Annika."

Gingerly, Seven swallowed, then took another when the first did not immediately send her into terminal spasms. She found this 'mead' to be a flavor different than anything she had ever experienced, sweet and light, yet with a spicy undertone. The sensation it produced was remarkable, as if a fire had been lit inside her belly, spreading throughout her and producing a rosy sort of glow about everything. It was somewhat similar to her reaction to the wine Kathryn had introduced her to, but this was a great deal more intense, and extremely pleasant.

"I like it," she told the chief engineer.

"Good," B'Elanna replied, grinning widely.

Being the only non-L'Borna in the tavern, they had of course, been identified immediately as being from the alien vessel which had helped save the planet. The management of the bar refused any offers of payment right from the start, which was just as well since neither of them had acquired any form of currency prior to leaving the palace. However, the rest of the patrons were also aware of them, and it seemed that while the L'Borna's innate politeness kept them from approaching the two women on a personal basis, several surrounding groups of people were more than glad to pay for their drinks. As a result, no sooner did the two Voyager crewmembers finish one round of the tart, fruity-like liquor, than another was immediately placed before them. It was not long before Seven and B'Elanna were sprawled in their chairs, regarding each other with the most warm sort of amiable benevolence.

"Y'know, 'Nik," B'Elanna drawled. "You got more guts than anyone I know. It takes a real warrior to have bedded Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager."

Seven burped, and blinked owlishly at her. "How so?" she asked curiously. "It was simply a matter of positioning myself in her bed, and awaiting her eventual arrival."

B'Elanna let out a hoot of laughter. "Damn, if I'd have only known it was that easy," she said. "I'd have nailed her long ago."

"Are you attracted to Kathryn?" Seven asked curiously.

"She's an incredible woman," B'Elanna admitted. She examined her mug intently. "I bet she's just amazing in bed."

Seven raised an eyebrow, or at least made the attempt. "She is a most remarkable lover," Seven offered freely. "Though I will admit, I have no real basis of comparison other than the information I discovered during my research into Voyager's data banks. Of course, I have no interest in acquiring more external data."

"You really love her, don't you?" B'Elanna asked wistfully.

"She is everything to me," Seven said, honestly.

B'Elanna looked suddenly depressed. "Annika, I really envy you," she said mournfully. "The captain really loves you, too. She sure as hell didn't go looking for someone else when we were in the Alpha Quadrant."

"Ah, now you are talking about Tom Paris," Seven noted, unaware that her words were slightly slurred.

"The bastard!" B'Elanna stated with great firmness. "You probably have the right idea sticking with women, 'Nik. Sometimes I think men really don't know how to love us."

"Indeed," Seven said, suddenly intrigued. "Kathryn indicated there was a difference in how men and women make love, but she has yet to go into detail."

B'Elanna eyed her narrowly, as if suspicious that Seven was attempting to deceive her. "You do know they have different equipment from us," she said carefully.

"I am aware of the anatomical diversities," Seven replied readily. "I am unsure however, why the physical aspects make such a significant difference."

"Oh, they do," B'Elanna said reverently. "Though what men do with it is way more important than how big it is."

"Indeed," Seven said, wondering vaguely what 'it' was, and how size had become a factor in this discussion. What exactly was being measured here?

"Yep, and just between you and me, Seven," B'Elanna said, leaning even closer, lowering her voice confidentially. "Chakotay has both."

"Both what?" Seven asked, completely confused at this point.

"Skill and size," B'Elanna told her. "Poor old Tom just can't compete there. He's like a spanner compared to Chakotay's warp core."

Seven peered at her closely, trying hard to figure out what B'Elanna was talking about. "'Warp core'?" she repeated.

"Yeah, you know," B'Elanna said, belatedly realizing that Seven had lost track of the topic. "His genitalia."

"Oh." Seven was wide-eyed with surprise. "You've seen it?"

"Oh, I've done more than just 'see it'," B'Elanna leered. She then proceeded to inform Seven of what the 'more' actually consisted of in great detail, including several acrobatic encounters that Seven suspected were sheer hyperbole.

Seven realized suddenly that the relationship between B'Elanna and Chakotay had gone much further than anyone knew, including herself who had been actively  encouraging it. She wondered if Kathryn was aware that the 'competition' they had been in could be considered over, and that Seven's wishes had prevailed. For some reason, it did not make her feel triumphant, merely sad for Lt. Paris.

"Are you in love with Chakotay?" she asked, needing to know the answer.

B'Elanna's face softened all of a sudden, looking completely unlike the feisty engineer's normal demeanor. "I've always been in love with him," she admitted, with a very odd tone in her voice. "From the first moment I saw him."

"Then why..." Seven began, surprised.

B'Elanna grimaced. "Because, I didn't think I ever stood a chance with him," she said, gesturing abruptly with her hand. "First, he was all tied up with Seska, then all of us who knew him thought he was interested in the captain. Tom kept pestering me, and well, he's not a bad guy most of the time so I figured, why not? Then you and Janeway got together which left Chakotay free, but it was too late, I was already involved with Tom. When we went to the Alpha Quadrant, though, it was just like old times, Chakotay and me against the Federation. I discovered that I still loved him, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing that Tom slept with Jennifer. It gave me an excuse to untangle myself from Tom, which left Chakotay and I both free at the same time. A week ago, we made it for real, and he's everything I could have hoped for."

"Why not explain that to Lt. Paris, rather than indulge in this constant antagonism?" Seven asked, honestly confused. "It seems futile."

"Because Paris insulted my honor," B'Elanna said stubbornly. "You just don't sleep with someone else less than three months after your mate dies."

"I see," Seven noted. "What is the prescribed period of time?"

"At least half the amount of time as you were together," B'Elanna told her as if it should have been obvious. "He barely waited a quarter of the time. After I defended his honor, too."

"By striking his father?" Seven said.

"Yeah, popped him good, didn't I?" B'Elanna noted with a certain amount of pride, then her face fell. "And where was Tom? Shagging one of the Delaney sisters. The bastard."

"Explain," Seven said. "If you have always been in love with Chakotay, what difference does it make who Paris is with?"

"It's a matter of pride," the Klingon insisted. "I deserve better than being replaced by one of the Delaney sisters."

Seven sighed. "I do not understand."

"No, you don't," B'Elanna told her, wagging her finger at her admonishingly. "Be glad you don't. Be glad you have a partner who just loves you to pieces, and would never even think of looking elsewhere. I don't know if Chakotay's that for me yet, but I have my fingers crossed."

Seven nodded, deciding she had to be content with that, and took another drink from her mead. She was amazed at how quickly the liquid seemed to be disappearing. This was her sixth mug, though she had only the vaguest recollection of drinking the previous five. Perhaps there were leaks somewhere in the containers. Certainly it didn't feel as if she had been ingesting an intoxicant. In fact, she felt just fine. No ill effects at all.

Why had B'Elanna suddenly become elevated?

"Seven, you've fallen off your chair," B'Elanna informed her with great earnestness.

"Indeed," Seven remarked with considerable astonishment. "How did that happen?"

"Leaned over too far, I suspect," B'Elanna explained, getting out of her own chair, and trying to pull Seven up, rather unsuccessfully. "Time to get you home, girlfriend. You can't keep up with me at all."

Several L'Borna at nearby tables hastily and politely assisted the Voyager engineer in getting the Borg to her feet, and with Seven leaning heavily on B'Elanna, the pair staggered out of the tavern and into the night.

"Am I drunk now?" Seven asked her as they made their way through the streets of the L'Borna capital which had cleared out somewhat, though there were still a great many people celebrating.

"If not, you're doing a pretty good imitation," Voyager's chief engineer told her, keeping the Borg upright with a certain amount of difficulty as they wound their way through the narrow alleys.

"I find the effects on my sense of balance intriguing," Seven said.

"Yeah, well don't become so involved in studying it," B'Elanna scolded as she steered Seven away from the bushes the Borg had been on a collision course with. The mead had not affected Torres to the same extent that it had Seven, and the crisp night air, not to mention the exertion she was putting forth, was rapidly clearing her head, as well as sobering her up. "Concentrate, Seven, one foot in front of the other."

"I have to sleep alone tonight," Seven suddenly wailed, throwing her arm companionably around B'Elanna's shoulders. "It is not right. Why does Kathryn not want to be with me?"

"I don't think she had a choice," B'Elanna grunted, finding herself bearing more and more of the taller woman's weight as they navigated their way back to the palace. "Maybe you just have to realize that in certain situations, you can't always be together. It doesn't mean she doesn't love you."

"I love her so much," Seven said dreamily. "Even when I am not with her, thoughts of her continually occupy my mind. Her hair, her eyes, the sound she makes when I kiss her nipples..."

"More than I needed to know," B'Elanna told her sincerely.

"You have shared intimate details about Chakotay with me," Seven reminded her. "I am merely returning the courtesy."

"Thanks, but no thanks," B'Elanna said shortly. It occurred to her that perhaps this had not been such a good idea after all, but who knew Seven would get loaded so quickly? Six mugs of the lightweight brew should have scarcely gotten her tipsy. Or at least, that would have been the case if Seven had been a Klingon. It occurred to B'Elanna that she had neglected to take that into account when she was counting Seven's drinks. "Seven, do try to be quiet when we get to the palace. We're going to sneak in."

"I will be very quiet," Seven said, very loudly. "Do you sing, B'Elanna?"

"Do I what?"

"Sing," Seven elaborated. "So you remember when we lost the ship to the Hirogen, and were forced to participate in that simulation about World War II? I was required to sing and have since found it a somewhat productive endeavor."

Seven broke into a song that B'Elanna could not remember ever hearing. The Klingon was surprised to discover Seven had a fairly decent voice, and certainly a respectable vocal range, but Torres had no intention of entering the palace with this level of noise. "Seven, stop singing," she said grumpily. "You're supposed to be quiet." She was struck by a sudden inspiration. "The captain requires us to be quiet."

Immediately, Seven broke off her song in mid-refrain, staring at B'Elanna intently. "She does?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yes," B'Elanna explained. "This is like a covert operation."

"I see," Seven whispered, her lips barely moving.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes and with a concentrated effort, pushed her companion up the stairs to the main entrance. Observing their progress across the grounds with amused interest, the two palace guards politely opened the doors for them, and B'Elanna nodded her thanks in passing. Guiding Seven in the general direction of the quarters where the Voyager females were staying, she was gratified to see the hallway leading to her door was empty, and with a sudden burst of energy now that her destination was actually in sight, she propelled Seven down the corridor and into their suite.

Captain Kathryn Janeway was standing in the middle of their living area, arms crossed over her chest, a frown of immense proportions on her elegant features.

"Well, damn," B'Elanna muttered.

"Kathryn," Seven said in a tone of utter happiness. "You are here." She struggled away from B'Elanna, and staggered towards the captain, smiling blissfully. Janeway caught her by the biceps, her slim hands seeming to be able to hold the statuesque woman up by sheer will as Seven swayed, in grave danger of toppling at any second.

"I am drunk," the Borg told Janeway proudly, squinting as she peered into the captain's face, apparently unable to focus on it.

"So I see," Janeway said coldly.

"It is not at all like being 'eaten'," Seven added helpfully.

"What did the pair of you think you were doing?" The captain's tone could shatter duranium.

Well, that's not good, B'Elanna considered thoughtfully.

"Just went out to sightsee a bit," the Chief Engineer offered lamely. "Observe the planet and its society. Do a little cultural exchange."

"In the dark?" Janeway noted with deep skepticism. She favored her Klingon crewmember with a look that B'Elanna realized would have struck far better beings than her stone cold dead. "I suspect the only sight you saw was the inside of a bar."

"The people are so friendly," Seven informed the captain in a tone of utter gravity. "They continually purchased our drinks throughout the evening."

"Exactly," B'Elanna leaped on it, grateful for the possible out. "Diplomacy dictated we couldn't offend them by refusing now, could we?"

Janeway did not look at all convinced.

"I do not want to sleep by myself," Seven said, suddenly upset, grasping the captain by the shoulders. "You told me I would never have to be by myself, yet you would not even kiss me today."

The Borg started to cry, which B'Elanna thought was a perfectly wonderful way to divert attention from the situation since it completely occupied Janeway's attention. The captain appeared stymied by the tears rolling down Seven's face, and by the way the younger woman was now clinging to her in honest dismay.

"Well, busy day tomorrow. I guess I should be getting to bed." B'Elanna said cheerfully, edging toward her bedroom.

"We will discuss this further," Janeway promised ominously over Seven's shoulder, glaring at the chief engineer.

"I'm sure we will," B'Elanna allowed, and with all haste, removed herself from the room.

"I do not wish to be by myself," Seven sobbed as Janeway held her.

"I know, darling," Janeway soothed, rubbing her back gently. "It's all right, really it is."

It would do no good to lecture her partner on the pitfalls of drinking to excess, the captain thought ruefully. At least, not at the moment. Janeway doubted that in her present condition, Seven would even understand what the captain was saying, let alone remember such a lecture come morning. Wrapping her arm firmly about the woman's waist, Janeway led her partner into the room Seven had been assigned. Seven dug her heels in at the doorway, the sobs magically stopping as an obstinate look crossed her face, hands grasping the door frame with unmovable resistance.

"No," she said in a tone of utter determination. "I am not sleeping here by myself."

Janeway took a breath, forcing herself to be patient. "I'll stay with you, Annika," she promised.

Seven brightened and immediately relaxed, allowing herself to be led into the room. "Why did you not want to kiss me today when we landed?" she asked plaintively as Janeway got her to sit down on the edge of the bed. "I was very unhappy, and I needed you to touch me."

Janeway reached around the blonde's neck to the back of her outfit, undoing the fastening that kept the skintight brown mesh suit closed. "I'm sorry, Annika," she said, with honest contrition. "I didn't realize you were so upset. Why were you unhappy?"

Seven leaned forward as if suddenly weary, resting her forehead on Janeway's chest. "B'Elanna and Lt. Paris were in conflict all the way from the construction area to the city," she explained sadly. "It was very disconcerting."

"I'm sorry," Janeway said taking a moment to hug the head to her gently. "I know it's hard to listen to others fight, and not be able to help."

"I did not want to help," Seven protested, words indistinct as she pressed her face into the captain's mid-section. "I merely wanted them to stop."

Janeway sighed and pressed Seven down onto the bed where the younger woman sprawled, her assorted limbs askew over the larger portion of the bed. Janeway had never before realized how much space the young woman was capable of taking up when she wasn't in control. With difficulty, the captain peeled the Borg's outfit down the lanky form, and off the lovely, long legs before managing to nudge Seven between the covers, the young woman trying to cooperate as best she could. Janeway tucked her in warmly, then hesitated, stroking the golden hair spilling out over the pillows.

"Sometimes people just have to work things out in their own way, Seven," the captain counseled. "Is that why you and B'Elanna went off together this evening?"

"We were unhappy," Seven explained, looking up at her with innocent eyes that suddenly seemed impossibly young. "We wished to have 'fun'."

The captain sighed. "Still, Seven," Janeway said. "I don't want you to leave without telling me where you're going."

"I am an adult," Seven protested stubbornly. "I do not need your permission to have fun."

Janeway wondered where that had come from. It sounded suspiciously like B'Elanna talking, rather than her partner.

"That's not what this is about," Janeway insisted quietly. "It has to do with me being the captain, and you being my crewmember. You can't just wander around a strange planet during an away mission without notifying your superior officer."

"B'Elanna is my superior officer," Seven reminded her. "Astrometrics is a department that falls under engineering."

"Well, you've certainly picked up B'Elanna's ability to know which regulations can be used to justify breaking others," Janeway said dryly, pulling away from the younger woman in order to make her own preparations for bed. Seven reached up and grabbed her hand urgently.

"You promised to stay with me," she said.

"I will," Janeway said. She was beginning to become a trifle concerned, as she realized Seven was honestly having a problem believing that she was not going to leave her alone. She wondered where this was stemming from, and squeezed the hand between hers, holding it gently. "I have to get ready for bed, Seven."

"All right," Seven said suspiciously. "I will watch."

Janeway raised an eyebrow "I am going to use the facilities, Seven," she told her. "I'll be right back. I give you my word."

"Very well," Seven said.

"What's wrong, Annika?" Janeway asked, looking at her intently. "Why are you so afraid?"

Seven looked puzzled. "I do not know," she said. Her face crumpled again as tears began to slide down her cheeks. "B'Elanna loved Tom. Now she hates him. I do not want you to stop loving me. I do not want you to hate me."

"That is not going to happen, Annika," Janeway reassured, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and gathering the younger woman up in her arms. "Tom and B'Elanna are completely different people than us, and besides, I'm sure they'll work it out."

"No, they will not," Seven replied, voice muffled as she buried her face into Janeway's neck, hugging her tightly. "B'Elanna loves Chakotay. They copulate now."

Janeway took a deep breath. "How do you know this?" she asked.

"B'Elanna told me," Seven said, calming as Janeway cuddled her, stroking the young woman's hair soothingly. "Would you like me to describe what they do? B'Elanna has explained the difference between how they make love as opposed to how we make love."

"No, no need for that," Janeway said hastily. "I already know the difference. So they're really together?"

"Yes," Seven replied, resting her head on Janeway's shoulder, and sighing sleepily. "I do not understand how she can stop loving Tom and love someone else, but she does. I am afraid that means you could stop loving me."

"Oh, Annika," Janeway said softly. She wondered what she could say that logic could not poke holes in. There were no guarantees in the universe, no promise that could not be broken if the circumstances were right ... or wrong. However, in her intoxicated state, Seven didn't really need logic. She simply required assurance. "I don't know why B'Elanna stopped loving Tom but I promise, I will never, ever stop loving you. Nothing in this universe could make that happen."

"How do you know?" Seven insisted unhappily.

"Because I'm the captain," Janeway said, in her best authoritative tone, "and Starfleet captains know these things."

"Oh," Seven said, apparently completely willing to accept that. She snuggled closer to Janeway, her eyes sliding shut. "I love you, Kathryn," she whispered.

"I know, darling," Janeway said, resting her cheek against Seven's. "I love you, too."

She held the young woman close as she felt her breathing slow, smoothing out to a regular rhythm, the body growing heavy in her arms. Carefully, she eased Seven back onto the bed, drawing the covers up over the sleeping form. For a moment, she debated whether she should return to her own suite, leaving Seven to finish sleeping it off, but she quickly disabused herself of that notion. She didn't know if Seven was the sort to remember things once she sobered up, but if she did, the thought of having promised something without honoring it had become anathema to Janeway since the recent events of Seven's supposed death and miraculous return.

With a quiet sigh, Janeway scooped up Seven's outfit, and made her way to the ensuite set off the bedrooms. She stopped dead as she entered, taking in the interior with dismay. It was easy to see B'Elanna had already accessed the facilities, leaving behind sopping towels to dot the floor, and a gold and black uniform dumped carelessly in the corner.

Thank god I didn't fall in love with my chief engineer, Janeway thought idly as she retrieved the discarded towels, and piled them in the recycling unit where they belonged. For all her idiosyncrasies, Seven was immaculate in her grooming and her personal habits, for which Janeway was truly appreciative. There was never anything out of place in their quarters and everything was stored in the most efficient manner possible.

The captain picked up B'Elanna's discarded uniform gingerly, and dropped it into the laundry unit provided to be cleaned and pressed, along with Seven's outfit. When they popped out, neat and warm, she hung the uniform on a hook and folded Seven's mesh outfit to take back with her to the bedroom. Honestly, she was beginning to feel like a chaperone on a class trip, she thought crankily. Or a den mother of sorts. Certainly her crew was acting like it was spring break at Starfleet Academy ... even Seven.

Feeling much older than her years, Janeway stripped off her uniform, cleaned it and folded it for morning. She found a robe provided by the L'Borna for their guests, though it had clearly been designed for the taller, burlier natives, and pulled it on. It dragged along the floor as she made her way back to the bedroom, juggling the clothes as the sleeves, which despite her best efforts to push them up her arms, kept falling over her hands.

She dropped the uniforms on the foot of the bed, and slipped out of the oversized robe with relief, crawling naked into the bed next to Seven. For a long time, Janeway lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, sleep an elusive quarry. Finally, she rose to her side, propped up on her elbow as she looked down at the sweet face of her partner, the narrow features made even more youthful and innocent by sleep. The captain found herself suddenly wondering if she was holding Seven back from doing all she wanted to do, of experiencing everything there was to experience ... of being young, and free and not having to answer to anyone. She understood that Seven couldn't miss what she never knew, but the captain was suddenly afraid that Seven would one day realize that she had lost something, first by spending eighteen years in the Borg Collective, then by falling into a relationship with an older woman.

An older woman, Janeway added to herself bleakly, who had a great many responsibilities and duties which kept her from doing things that might be considered fun by younger and less encumbered people. Such as running out and getting drunk in a tavern on a planet in the middle of nowhere, just because it was there to be done.

Janeway felt her heart spasm at the thought that one day, Seven would look around and decide that there were horizons to explore beyond what a Starfleet captain could offer. That one day Seven would simply walk away to find her own path, her own life. When that time came, what would Janeway do? How would she ever survive it?

Janeway felt tears sting the back of her eyes, and she blinked them away furiously. Now who's getting excessively maudlin? her little voice scolded. You'd think you were the one deep in your cups. You're always telling Seven to have faith in your love, Katie. Grant her the same respect. Have faith in what she feels for you.

Deciding that was a fairly decent piece of advice from herself, not to mention the fact that she really couldn't do anything about it this night, she settled down into the bed, wrapping herself around Seven who stirred briefly, murmured something unintelligible and went back to sleep, snoring lightly. Janeway raised an eyebrow. She'd never heard her partner snore before. It seemed the young woman was becoming more and more Human with each passing day, and with a quiet sigh, the captain snuggled closer to the long, lanky warmth. The steady throb of Seven's heartbeat beneath her cheek soothed away the last of her unease, and it wasn't much longer before Janeway was able to follow her partner into slumber.

Seven was convinced she was dying.

What was worse, Kathryn was amazingly unsympathetic.

"I am not functioning properly," Seven whimpered.

"Well, that's what happens when you get intoxicated," Janeway said coolly, shrugging into her uniform. "It's called a hangover, and it's the price you pay for abusing your body."

"Must you speak so loudly?"

"I'm not," Janeway said firmly, though not unkindly. Then, her brows drew down in a frown as she favored Seven with a stern look. "I expect a full duty shift from you today, Seven. I'll see you this evening." She did not look back as she left the bedroom.

Abandoned, Seven lay motionless in the middle of the bed, being very careful not to move her head because every time she did, the room started spinning. She felt very odd, and on at least three occasions, she had come very close to vomiting, a Human frailty that she had recently become familiar with. It was only with the greatest of wills that she had managed not to. She swallowed hard, feeling pitiful and completely wretched.

"Hey, Seven, how are you feeling?"

Very carefully, Seven shifted her eyes to the entrance of the bedroom. B'Elanna looked offensively fresh and perky, leaning casually on the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, head tilted slightly as she regarded the prostrate blonde.

"I am uncomfortable," Seven said acidly.

"I'll bet," B'Elanna said with a smirk. "Well, up and at 'em. We have those power relays to bring on line today."

Seven groaned.

B'Elanna laughed. "Too bad, Seven," she said. "Come on, time's a wasting."

She went over and seized Seven by the wrists, hauling her unceremoniously to her feet. Seven didn't know what to do first, kill B'Elanna or merely vomit all over her. She ended up doing neither, but it was a very close thing for a few nanoseconds.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked in honest dismay.

B'Elanna softened, patting her on the shoulder as she helped the Borg get into her outfit.

"Believe me, Seven, I'm doing what's best for you," she told her seriously. "You need to get yourself moving, you need something in your stomach, and if you're good, Sek might even give you something for your headache."

Until B'Elanna had mentioned it, Seven hadn't realized she had a headache. Now, it was if someone was standing in her brain, swinging a spanner against the inside of her skull.

"I will never drink again," she swore.

"Until the next time," B'Elanna agreed cheerfully. "The captain decided that since I got you drunk, I'm responsible for you today. I'm supposed to bring you back to her tonight, completely recovered from our little jaunt, and that's what I have every intention of doing, so let's go."

"It will take me longer than a day to recover," Seven complained as B'Elanna steered her out into the main room of their suite. "I am deathly ill."

"You exaggerate," B'Elanna explained. "First, Sek is gonna hit you up with some vitamins to help your body clear out the toxins, then you're going to eat a big breakfast to replace all the nutrients you've lost. Then we're going to work like dogs. Trust me, it's the very best cure for a hangover."

"Why would anyone drink if this is the result?" Seven asked crankily as she was deposited at the table in front of two large bay windows. She blanched as she saw the food piled high in the center. "I am going to vomit."

"No, you're not," B'Elanna ordered. "Sek, hit her up."

The medical hologram obediently pressed a hypospray to Seven's neck, which made the Borg's headache and most of her nausea subside. However, she still did not feel like eating, and were it not for the Klingon standing over her with a domineering expression, or the memory of Kathryn's disappointment lingering in her mind, Seven would have avoided it altogether. Faced with two such imposing influences, however, the young woman forced herself to consume what was placed in front of her.

"You know, Sek," B'Elanna said amiably to the hologram as Seven ate, "you should have come with us last night. It was fun."

"I am incapable of ingesting liquid," Sek told her evenly. "Even if I were, I am incapable of becoming intoxicated."

"Getting drunk wasn't the point," B'Elanna objected.

"It wasn't?" Seven raised her eyebrow, chewing slowly. That was news to her.

"No, it was just to cut loose a little bit," the Klingon explained. "We've been on that ship for five years. The same old Starfleet routine gets dull after awhile."

Seven was glad the chief engineer had explained that. She would have hated to think that the whole purpose of the previous evening was just so she could feel like she had been flushed out of a plasma intake valve seven hours later.

"Where is the captain?" she asked between mouthfuls of something that resembled waffles, covered with fruit.

"Marshall L'Branan is escorting her and Neelix around the continent today," B'Elanna explained. "A sort of good will tour. Best of all, Paris is going with them. That leaves us to take care of the power plant." She eyed Sek curiously. "I hope you won't be too bored today."

"I have plenty of research," Sek told her. "This is my first alien species."

"Actually, everyone is an alien species," Seven pointed out, surprised to find that she was actually starting to feel more like her normal self, the food beginning to work on her metabolism, restoring its functionality. "Since you, yourself, are a unique creation."

"That's very true, Seven," Sek responded with a glowing smile. "However, I was referring to people not of Voyager. The crew of our ship is like our own, distinct species. Definitely a tribe of sorts."

"Interesting," Seven allowed. "What unique characteristics have you discovered about the L'Borna?"

"Talk in the runabout," B'Elanna interrupted at that point. "C'mon, we've got work to do."

Seven hastily swallowed the last of her juice, leaving the dishes scattered on the table as she scooped up her data padds, and followed the other two females out the door. The sun outside seemed a trifle bright, stabbing into her head like twin daggers as she stumbled out into the courtyard. It certainly seemed harsher than normal, and she wondered if the L'Borna star was undergoing sunspot activity of some kind. However, neither of the others mentioned anything out of the ordinary so Seven didn't either. Squinting painfully, she boarded the runabout, taking a seat in the co-pilot's chair even as B'Elanna began the pre-flight check, and Sek made herself comfortable at the science station.

They lifted off from the town square and flew swiftly to the site where the power plant was under construction. As promised, B'Elanna made Seven work constantly, never letting her have a break as they brought the system online. As a result, things went much quicker than initially anticipated, and the chief engineer was gratified when the first ergs of power were being generated by mid-morning. With some Borg ingenuity, which sprang mostly from Seven's deep desire to lay down somewhere and pass out, they had the rest of the plant humming at full capacity by late afternoon.

"You know what?" B'Elanna said to Seven as she guided the dispirited Borg onto the runabout. "If we take off tonight, we can be back on Voyager by tomorrow morning ... provided we can get out of here in time to beat the ion storm."

"If the captain is agreeable," Seven said uncertainly. "I believe the L'Borna wanted a ceremony of sorts to mark our departure tomorrow in the city square."

"Damn, you're right," the Klingon said. She eyed Seven speculatively as they took their places at the helm.

"What?" Seven asked with sudden foreboding as she felt the Klingon's eyes boring into her.

"Maybe you could talk to the captain," B'Elanna offered.

"About?"

"Leaving early," B'Elanna said persuasively as she initiated the launch sequence. "Tell her you want to get back to the ship."

Seven considered that. "You wish for me to utilize my relationship with the captain to convince her to depart ahead of schedule," she said.

"Exactly," B'Elanna said.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "You overestimate my influence on Kathryn," she explained. "While I can talk Kathryn into doing things she might not otherwise agree to in our personal life, I cannot influence her in matters regarding the ship or her command. It is simply not acceptable to her." She paused, examined that thought. "Nor, do I find, to me."

B'Elanna held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, it was just a suggestion," she said hastily. "Maybe we can find another tavern tonight. One with dancing."

Seven hesitated. "I will ask if it is possible," she allowed finally, with reluctance. "But no more."

"That's all I want," B'Elanna said, smirking while Seven felt as if she had missed something quite obvious.

Janeway looked at the magnificent waterfall plunging gracefully over a two hundred meter drop, and stifled a yawn. Honestly, it wasn't that she didn't appreciate the magnificence of what the L'Branan were intent on showing them. It was simply that, after so many planets and the wonders seen in space, water falling off a cliff was a trifle pedestrian. She took a deep breath, and tried to refocus her attention on the natural phenomena displayed before her.

She wondered if Seven would find this beautiful. Certainly, the young woman had developed an appreciation for beauty in her professional life, finding a deep pleasure in the precision of mathematics and spatial calculations that Janeway shared. The captain also knew that Seven had found an eye for the aesthetic in her personal life, having acquired the habit of picking up various knickknacks for their quarters at the last few alien markets they had encountered in their travels. Janeway was assured that it was Seven's own taste at work, as opposed to reflecting the captain's, since there were at least two tiny statues currently displayed next to the couch that Janeway thought were the most revolting things she had ever seen. Seven liked them, however, declaring them elegantly efficient in their structure, so Janeway bit her tongue and tried not to look at them very often.

It's all a series of small compromises, the captain thought idly as she stared at all that water pouring down. The big ones are easy, but it's the tiny adjustments that can make or break a relationship.

In the beginning, most of them had been on Seven's side, not only because she was adapting to Janeway, but to becoming Human as well. Now, however, the captain found that she was the one adapting more and more to the reality of living with someone full time, of having someone next to her every morning when she awoke, of sharing her personal space with another person who had their own needs and quirks that would not change even if Janeway wished them to. Little things, such as the fact that Janeway could no longer put something down in the middle of her work and expect it to stay there. Instead, it was now returned to it's proper place by Seven the instant she saw it lying around unattended. Or that the young woman was constantly rearranging the furniture in an ongoing effort to find the 'perfect' living arrangement. Or the fact that now the captain was expected to join Seven in eating regular meals, and going to bed at a decent time, instead of pulling the all-nighters sbe had been prone to indulge in before.

Not that it was such a bad thing, the captain allowed silently, though she might not ever admit that publicly. It was nice having someone worry about her, to make the effort to see that she was taken care of, and even, on occasion, to rake her over the coals for doing something wrong. It eased the weight she was constantly under, making her feel that, even though Seven could not really help shoulder the responsibilities the rank demanded, the burden of command was still lightened somehow. When Janeway walked through that door to their quarters after her duty shift, smelled the savory aroma of whatever creation Seven had tried that day, felt the warmth of the woman's embrace surround her, the problems of the ship were temporarily left behind, and she felt a peace she had never before experienced.

It forced her to speculate on the future she had planned years ago, one where Voyager was not lost, where she would have ended up married to Mark Johnson. She had never really taken the time to think her engagement through to its obvious conclusion; to being married and sharing a home with him, or how that would have worked, if indeed, it would have worked at all.

Could she have given up command and traded it for a desk job on Earth to be with him? Or perhaps she might have requested a posting to a Galaxy-class ship in order to bring him along as a civilian spouse, though Mark had never indicated any interest in that, nor had they talked about it at all. Perhaps, she had expected him to stay behind while she gallivanted all over the Alpha Quadrant, taking care of home and hearth, not to mention the dog, while she just popped in on the rare occasions her ship returned to Earth.

Why would she have thought that any of those options would have worked?

Though Mark had been very easy-going, his life and career was on Earth. Hers was written in the stars. She realized it would never have worked out, at least, not for the person she had become here in the Delta Quadrant, the person who, as it turned out, enjoyed the challenge of command and greatly anticipated the lure of the unknown. Yet, having made the vow to him, she would have done her utmost to fulfill it though, in the end, both of them would probably have been miserable, and maybe never figured out why.

Seven of Nine, surprisingly enough, had turned out to be a perfect complement to Janeway's career and personality; a crewmember working with her, yet not a part of Starfleet under her command. Looking to the captain for guidance, yet astoundingly arrogant in her remarkable intelligence and abilities, maintaining the right balance of respect for Janeway as a person, and a certain sort of disregard for her position in the chain of command which Seven thought inefficient. A purely accidental happenstance, but one that, as it turned out, seemed absolutely perfect for Janeway as a Starfleet captain.

My woman, Janeway smiled serenely. I think I'll keep her.

"Uh, Captain?"

Startled out of her musing, she turned her head slightly to take in Tom Paris's freckled profile.

"Yes, lieutenant?" she asked.

He glanced over, seeing that Neelix had their native guides occupied with answering his many questions, and lowered his voice.

"I know you've been pitching for me with B'Elanna and I really appreciate it," he said. "I was wondering if you were getting anywhere?"

She stifled a sigh. On Voyager, it was practically impossible to maintain any sort of discretion when it came to things like matchmaking. With so little outside news to occupy the crew, they tended to concentrate even more on every little sub-current and subtlety within the ship. Apparently, her little attempts to forestall B'Elanna from moving on had not gone unnoticed.  Still, it would have been nice if it hadn't been Tom who understood what she had been up to, especially since it meant that she might have to be the one to break it to him that he had lost out, possibly for good.

"Tom, there are some things that just aren't meant to be," she tried delicately.

He looked at her sharply. "I don't like the sound of that," he drawled. "What do you know that I don't?"

"I'm not sure this is the sort of thing we should be discussing on a diplomatic mission," she temporized madly.

He was silent for a long moment, staring at her intently. "With all due respect, ma'am, I think you're hiding behind those pips," he said positively. "Let me have it, Captain. I can take it."

Damn, but her crew was getting entirely too familiar with her. Their situation had meant a certain amount of relaxing the boundaries between captain and crew, while her new relationship with Seven had granted her an even greater approachability, with the crew apparently feeling that she was now as Human as they were. Which was undeniably true, but not necessarily a belief the captain of a starship wanted to foster.

"I believe B'Elanna has moved on," she said carefully.

"You're talking about Chakotay," he said flatly.

So he knew already, she thought with a mixture of relief and aggravation. Was she always the last to know these things?

"They seemed to have progressed farther than most think," she allowed. "In any event, it's not my place to interfere with the personal relationships of my crew, unless they affect the functioning of my ship." She favored him with a stern look. "None of this is going to affect the functioning of Voyager," she added as a statement, not a question.

"No, ma'am," he said after a moment. "It won't." He studied his shoes. "I hadn't realized it had gotten that far between them, however. I thought ... well, I guess it doesn't matter now what I thought."

"I'm sorry, Tom," Janeway said honestly. "Truly, I was rooting for you."

He managed a faint grin that did not reach his eyes. "I know, Captain," he said. "It's my own fault. I gave up on her way too quickly." He paused. "Maybe we weren't so crazy in love after all. I did find it easy enough to hop into bed with someone else soon enough."

"Tom, it's not that simple," she said, trying to provide what sympathy she could. "Who's to say what I might have done had I the opportunity? We both thought the people we loved were gone forever."

He gave her a sideways glance through narrow eyes. "You handled it fine, Captain," he said with a touch of envy. "You carried on with such dignity and strength... I was the one who was a complete mess."

Janeway felt a catch in her breath, the memory of that awful time when Seven, Chakotay and B'Elanna were presumed to be dead still fresh in her mind, still lancing her heart with unexpected pain. She remembered the awful, disintegrating agony which had eaten away at her from within, a little bit more of her soul gone with each passing day, threatening to leave only an empty, emotionless husk. The brittle facade of command she had displayed had apparently fooled Paris, along with the rest of the crew. Not Tuvok and the Doctor, however. They hadn't been taken in for a moment, and it was primarily their efforts that made her hang on for the sake of the ship.

The fact remained that Janeway had not even dared to grieve, had not even listed Seven as officially deceased because it would have sent the captain into an unending spiral of misery that might have been inescapable. Yet, how could she tell him that? How could she explain that he had gone through all the normal stages of grief whereas she had been completely unable to begin the process?

She couldn't. That was too much familiarity between a captain and her crewmember.

"We all grieve in our own ways," she said wistfully. "At our own pace. In any event, things happen, and very often, when we look back, we discover they happened for a reason."

"You think?" he replied, shaking his head. "Maybe you're right. Maybe she is better off with Chakotay."

"Perhaps," the captain said, not unkindly. "In the meantime, there's still a mission to attend to."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and drifted away to stand at the far end of the railed platform, looking at the waterfall as if he wished to plunge into it, and let it carry him away.

She eyed him narrowly for a few moments before deciding he would survive, and turned her attention to the L'Borna who were motioning them to the aircar, no doubt ready to show them yet another scenic wonder. Except they seemed somewhat agitated, abruptly nervous in their body language and gestures. Perhaps Neelix had insulted them somehow, and she took a breath, drawing on her charm in order to smooth over this minor little breach of alien diplomacy.

She wondered what Seven was doing right now, wishing that she was with her instead of on this insipid tour.

Seven of Nine picked herself up off the ground, shaking her head dazedly. She couldn't figure out what had happened exactly, only that she had been stepping off the Mississippi when the explosion had occurred. She rose up to her knees, leaning hard on the edge of the ramp leading to the interior of the runabout, and reached up to her head, wiping away the wetness that was running down her cheek. Her hand came away sticky with blood.

"Seven, don't move."

Seven looked up to see the slender form of Sek vault over the edge of the ramp, crouching beside her as she drew out a medical tricorder, and examined her anxiously.

"What happened?" Seven mumbled through split lips.

"We were fired upon as we left the shuttle," Sek explained. "Fortunately I was able to increase my gravimetric mass, and shield you from the worst of the missile's explosion."

Seven closed her eyes, trying to think. Yes, Sek had been preceding Seven down the ramp when the concussion threw the Borg over the side where they now huddled in the shelter of the runabout's hull.

"B'Elanna?" she asked. They both ducked as the sound of other explosions were heard. Smoke filled the air around them as flames shot out from the palace windows. There were dead bodies of L'Borna dressed in royal guard tunics sprawled over the square a few hundred yards away. Seven wondered if any of them belonged to the guards who had so courteously held the door for her and B'Elanna the previous evening.

"In the cockpit, trying to raise the captain," Sek said. "She's extended the weapons array to show that the ship is armed and dangerous, but fortunately she hasn't fired yet." She took Seven's arm firmly, and helped her the rest of the way to her feet. "Come on, we have to get you inside."

Allowing herself to be tugged into the interior of the runabout, Seven crouched low to minimize the target area as Sek protected her back. Once inside, B'Elanna sealed the doors as Seven slumped onto the first seat she saw, wincing at the pain shooting through her head.

"I can't get through to the captain," B'Elanna told them, coming back to see Seven who was being attended by Sek. "There's some sort of interference jamming communications, but we're locked down, and the weapons are on standby, ready to go."

"Kathryn would not want you to fire on the L'Borna," Seven said, still uncertain about what exactly was happening.

"Why not?" B'Elanna noted in a cranky voice. " They're shooting at each other pretty good. There's an all out war going on out there."

Sek wiped the blood away from Seven's face and hands with a soft, damp cloth, but could do nothing about the large patch of blood staining Seven's outfit. Seven felt the hiss of a hypospray injected into her neck, and immediately the ringing in her ears, along with the pounding of her head eased, clearing her mind and allowing her to think. If this was happening here, what about the rest of the planet?

"Do you think that something has happened to Kathryn?" Seven asked anxiously, as she felt the dermal regenerator seal the cut on her forehead.

B'Elanna shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I don't even know who the hell's shooting or why. Damn it, it makes no sense. Everybody liked us."

"Everyone we were allowed to come in contact with," Sek corrected, replacing the regenerator into her kit, patting Seven on the shoulder to indicate she was done. "I believe the L'Borna are experiencing an uprising from a sub-faction we were uninformed about in our original exchange of information."

"That has nothing to do with us," Seven protested. She got up and made her way to the cockpit, sitting down in the co-pilot's seat as she looked around. "I see nothing."

Projectiles rattled off the transparency of the front windows, making her jerk back in surprise though such archaic weaponry had no hope of penetrating a ship designed for space. "I do not understand," she said, frustrated with her lack of data.

"I believe it is the L'Bree," Sek said then, studying information she had brought up at the science station.

"Who the hell are they?" B'Elanna asked, frowning at the hologram.

"They are the faction who believe that space travel goes against the natural order," Sek said.

"There's always a few of them in every society," B'Elanna said, waving her arms. "Usually they don't or can't start wars. They're generally dismissed as cranks."

"In most cases," Sek agreed. "However, in this one, they had an asteroid bearing down on their homeworld to back up their contention that the L'Borna would be punished if they did not withdraw from space. A great number of people in the past few months flocked to their cause, and I imagine the faction leaders were considerably disappointed when the asteroid was destroyed."

"That is illogical," Seven said flatly.

"Fanatics usually are," B'Elanna told her. "Sek, are you saying that they had the end of the world all foretold, and we messed that up?"

"Yes," Sek said. "This is the line of investigation I was following last night. Apparently, they believed that the asteroid was not going to actually hit the world, but rather it was going to explode over the atmosphere, seeding the world with all good things, and according paradise to all who follow the L'Bree path. We, and of course, the government, prevented that from happening."

"We are their enemies," Seven replied frowning as she squinted through the smoke. "What should we do?"

"I'm guessing that the Captain is finding herself in a bit of a mess at the moment," the Klingon said, slipping into the chair next to Seven. "I don't think we should stick around for the rest of the show. Let's find the captain and the others and see how fast we can catch up to Voyager."

"Agreed." Seven activated the sensors, as B'Elanna initiated the flight sequence. "Scanning for lifesigns," she said. "I'm picking up communicator signals approximately seven hundred and twenty-nine kilometers north by northwest."

"Then that's where we're going," B'Elanna said as she lifted off.

A hail of gunfire bracketed the ship as they rose from the ground and turned to the north. Through the viewports, Seven could see various L'Borna dressed in a bright shade of yellow moving through the city, engaged with the red-clad government forces. Occasionally, individuals from both sides would fire randomly at them with hand weapons, then she saw a group perched on a rooftop readjusting the aim of a large tube, a gout of flame spouting from one end as smoke rolled over the group, obscuring them from sight. She did not identify their markings.

"We have an incoming projectile off the port bow," Seven remarked.

"Old-style missiles," B'Elanna replied shortly. "Nothing to worry about."

Indeed, there was only a minor impact as the missile hit them, and Seven realized that was why their attackers had waited until the Starfleet crew had set down and were exiting the runabout. If it hadn't been for Sek being a hologram, and able to increase the gravimetric elements that turned her form into an impenetrable shield, it would have killed Seven, and possibly B'Elanna as well. She felt a chill as that realization struck her, and worry for Kathryn's safety made her even more unsettled.

"Can you increase our velocity?" she asked anxiously.

"Not in an atmosphere," B'Elanna responded testily. "ETA to our people?"

"Uncertain. They are continuing to move," Seven said. "However, we have left the area of interference." She touched the controls. "Mississippi to Janeway. Please respond."

"Janeway here," came the crisp response. "What is it? Have the power plant's repairs been completed?"

B'Elanna and Seven exchanged glances. Apparently, the captain was totally unaware that war had been declared in the capital city. It made B'Elanna wary, and she put a restraining hand on Seven's wrist, cautioning her. Seven raised an eyebrow, handed the conn over to the Engineer.

"Captain, can we discuss something privately?" B'Elanna asked.

There was a pause. Obviously, the captain was either making excuses ... or was she being threatened? The pair waited breathlessly until finally the captain's throaty tones were once more coming over the channel.

"What's this about, Lieutenant?"

"Throwing up a topspin lob, Captain," B'Elanna said.

Seven regarded her with respect. That was a code devised by the captain based on one of her favorite sports, intended so that the crew could determine if the line was clear, and it was safe to talk.

There was another pause, though Seven thought she heard the startled intake of breath.

"Overhead smash to baseline," the captain returned with the correct response. "Go ahead."

"Captain, all hell is breaking loose in the capital," B'Elanna explained tersely. "Some sort of uprising or war is breaking out. We were fired upon as we left the runabout."

"Casualties?"

"Seven got banged up a little," B'Elanna said. "Mostly, it's L'Borna dead. Sek thinks it's a faction called the L'Bree, a religious group who were disappointed the asteroid didn't crash into the planet."

"Where are you now?"

"Approximately one hundred kilometers southeast of you," B'Elanna explained. "We can beam you to the shuttle now if you'd like?"

"Negative," Janeway said. "I need you to---"

Communication was abruptly cut off, and with wide eyes, Seven stared at B'Elanna who looked equally startled, but the Klingon shook it off quickly. "Get a lock on them," the Chief Engineer ordered. "Beam them to the runabout, immediately."

"The captain rejected that offer," Seven reminded her, even as she keyed the instructions into the transporter.

"That was before she was interrupted," B'Elanna said. "Energize."

The low hum of the transporter cut through the air, and all three females turned in their chairs to see the three Voyager crewmembers materialize on the pad, looking mussed as if they had just been in a scuffle.

"Quick thinking, Lieutenant," the captain said, raking her fingers through her hair as she found a seat along with the other two. "Apparently my communication was not as private as I had hoped."

"They drew weapons on us," Neelix said in a tone of outrage. "They were going to kill us."

"What's going on?" Paris asked, looking from one face to the other. "Why did the L'Borna pull weapons on us? Why did they go back and drag the captain out of the lavatory?"

"War," Seven said, aware of Janeway frowning as the captain saw the blood staining the front of the Borg's outfit. "From Sek's data, we believe there was an uprising involving a faction called the L'Bree and the ruling body."

"Who was with us?" Neelix asked, eyes wide.

"Who knows?" Paris said dryly. "We didn't wait around for them to identify themselves."

Seven looked at B'Elanna evenly. "I guess you have your wish after all," she said. "To return to Voyager sooner than expected."

B'Elanna shook her head.

"I wish," she responded glumly. "I just did a reading on the ion storm. It's intensified and settled in the system. Looks like we're stuck on this planet for awhile." She glanced behind them. "Orders?"

Janeway lowered her head, eyes narrowing as she thought. "Find us a nice, safe, out-of-the-way spot," she instructed. "Where we can't be detected by the L'Borna from either side. I have no wish to become involved in a planetary squabble, nor have I any intention of taking on an ion storm."

"Understood," B'Elanna said. She glanced at Seven. "Try for a scenic spot," she added in a low undertone. "With lots of room for two people to avoid each other."

Seven nodded briefly, and bent over her sensor readings.

The Mississippi landed in a remote, mountainous region in the center of the planet's main continent. Sensors indicated there were no L'Borna lifesigns within five hundred kilometers, and from the wild, untamed look of the forest surrounding the glacial lake the runabout landed next to, there was no trace to indicate anyone else had ever been here. Immediately, an away team consisting of Sek, Neelix and Paris, disembarked from the cramped runabout, breaking out the habitats, and setting up the camp while Seven and B'Elanna used the small vessel's systems to scan the storm in space, trying to figure out how long it was destined to last. From their readings, the news was not promising.

"I'm sorry, Captain," B'Elanna told Janeway who was supervising the proceedings. "The storm looks like it's stalled within the system itself, which means it could last another two days ... or another two months."

Janeway nodded, frowning as she contemplated the information. Knowing Chakotay as she did, he would keep Voyager at station-keeping for as long as he could, then would probably backtrack to the L'Borna system when the storm eased. She believed he wouldn't endanger the ship, but she also knew that with the ion storm preventing communication, he would be considerably worried about them.

Things just never seemed to go easy when they encountered a new species in the Delta Quadrant, the captain thought with a rueful sigh. She tried to remember how first contact went in the Alpha Quadrant, and finally had to admit privately that things had a way of going just as wrong there.

"What about flying through the storm?" she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

B'Elanna winced, shook her head. "Believe me, Captain, being stuck here is the last thing I want," she said honestly. "But it would be insane to try to go through a storm of that density. We wouldn't get a light-year before all the systems would be off line, including life support."

Janeway dipped her head in acknowledgment. That was about what she thought, but she had to examine all possibilities. She looked toward the runabout door as Neelix entered. "What's our status regarding the food supply?" she asked him.

He smiled reassuringly at her. "We have a full stock of Starfleet survival supplies," he responded. That meant a crew of six could survive for up to six months just on what the runabout could supply. "However, the hills around us are full of ingredients, Captain, compatible with our digestive systems. I can whip up any number of tasty dishes from them. There'll be no need to live off those nasty old rations at all."

The captain eyed him covertly. What Neelix thought was compatible, and what she liked to eat were sometimes two completely different things, but it would be inexcusably rude to mention that, or try to get Seven to take over the cooking.

"I look forward to it," she lied pleasantly.

"Excellent," he said. "I'm working on a stew from the various fungi growing in the forest. If I could get your permission to press Sek and Paris into helping me gather them?"

"Go ahead," Janeway nodded. She watched him disappear out the door, and shifted her glance to the other two women who were regarding her sardonically.

"Fungus stew?" B'Elanna said in a tone of disgust. "I think I'd rather have Starfleet rations."

Janeway eyed her admonishingly. "Not when there's other foodstuffs available," she reminded her.

B'Elanna shook her head in resigned dismay, but threw a grin Seven's way. "I hate away missions," she muttered. "Especially away missions in the great outdoors."

"I will attempt to seek out mechanical problems on the runabout," Seven offered the engineer blandly. "If it will occupy your time." Janeway felt the corners of her mouth quirk as she realized Seven was gently teasing Lt. Torres.

"Thanks, Annika, you're a real pal," B'Elanna replied dryly, giving her the evil eye.

Janeway raised a brow. B'Elanna's utilization of Seven's real name surprised her. She hadn't realized the pair had gotten that close, and contrasting it to the way they had initially gotten along, she found it both amusing and heartening. However, she worried occasionally about the Klingon's influence over the still very impressionable young woman.

As opposed to your influence, you mean? her little voice noted archly. B'Elanna's just giving her a balance to offset the staid, by-the-book, conservative approach you have to take all the time. What's wrong with that? My god, even Seven has been showing a little more imagination than you have lately, especially when she came up with that holodeck fantasy. Wouldn't it be nice to be able to show Seven your wilder side just once? You do still have it, don't you? That side that went diving in the underground caves of Mars even though you were forbidden? Or have you completely forgotten how important it is to do crazy things now and again?

Janeway stifled a sigh, trying to ignore her inner voice though she couldn't deny that it was beginning to bother her. As a Starfleet captain, she was expected to maintain a certain amount of decorum whenever she wore the uniform, and in the Delta Quadrant, unfortunately, she always wore the uniform. There were no leave of absences here, no opportunity for her to depart Voyager for a visit to Risa, or Earth, no chance for a vacation that would allow Seven and her to be alone together, no possibility of leaving Starfleet completely behind. For a moment, the four pips adorning her collar seemed unbearably heavy.

Maybe I should let Seven go, she thought bleakly. Let her be young and free to do what she wants. Good god, she didn't even volunteer to be a member of my crew. That's a role I forced her to play, demanding she accede to Starfleet protocols.

Lost in these dismal thoughts, she was unaware of B'Elanna leaving the runabout to check out the camp. As if sensing something was amiss, Seven took the opportunity to drift over to Janeway and then, when they remained alone, she wrapped her up in a warm embrace. Feeling very vulnerable and uncertain, Janeway slid her arms around the slim shoulders, and buried her head in the warm hollow of the taller woman's neck.

"What is troubling you?" Seven asked quietly in her ear.

Janeway gave a short bark of unamused laughter. "What makes you think anything is?" she asked, not looking up.

"Your face," Seven explained. "It was very subtle, but I could determine from it that you were unhappy. Why are you unhappy?"

Janeway breathed deep the scent of the younger woman, the delicate fragrance of healthy female laced with the faintest tang of metal, and an odd but pleasant little odor that was unique to Seven of Nine. Her partner grew more and more perceptive every day, she realized with a certain amount of surprise ... and gratitude.

"Silly thoughts," Janeway admitted softly. "Insecurities, fears. Nothing I can't get over. I guess I'm worried about the ship and the away team. I'm worried about us."

She hadn't meant to admit to that last one. It had slipped out inadvertently before she had a chance to swallow it back.

"The ship is fine and in good hands," Seven said with cool, analytical precision, observing her closely. "The away team is in good health, we have plenty of food and shelter, and it is unlikely any L'Borna from either side can detect us. As for 'us', I am unaware of anything negatively affecting our relationship. Would you care to elaborate?"

"Not really," Janeway said slowly. "Not right now, at any rate. Besides, it's nothing major, darling, just my own mind causing uncertainties where none exist. Maybe later, if we have a chance to be alone, I'll talk to you about it."

"Very well," Seven said agreeably.

Janeway felt the arms tighten about her, and she raised her face, looking up into the pale, fine features of the younger woman. With a quiet pleasure, Seven bent her head and covered Janeway's mouth with her wonderful full lips, kissing her with a slow, easy thoroughness. For a blissful moment, Janeway allowed the embrace, wanting nothing more than to stay this way forever, but the situation, and her duty, made her reluctantly, but firmly pull away.

She caught herself looking at the blood staining Seven's outfit, a rusty, dark shape spreading over the upper part of the Borg's chest, feeling herself grow a little light-headed. She touched it with trembling fingertips, trying to keep her face impassive.

"Obviously you're all right," Janeway said, swallowing hard. "However, I'm sorry you were hurt."

"Sek treated me promptly," Seven reassured, resting her hands on the captain's shoulders. "They were minor flesh wounds only, though I will admit that if she had not altered her matrix mass to an impenetrable shield, I, and possibly B'Elanna who was behind me, might have been killed by the concussion. We had no warning. It is fortunate you decided to keep the Sek program rather than delete it."

"I guess so," Janeway said, a dull, deep anger rising within her at those who would threaten the ones she held dear. She hadn't realized just how much danger her crew had been in. "I'll make sure to add a commendation for her in my mission log."

"I think she would like that," Seven agreed gently.

Janeway, startled by the sentiment, looked up at her, eyes suddenly soft, a small smile curling one side of her mouth. "She is sentient, isn't she," she noted wistfully. "I made the right decision."

"You always make the right decision," Seven noted with utter certainty. "Even when I don't agree."

Janeway took a breath. "Not always," she replied, surprising herself with her confession. "So far, they've all worked out, however."

She thought of the decision she had made to interfere with the Borg/Species 8472 conflict. It had violated the Prime Directive, and a host of other personal and ethical protocols, some of which she realized only in retrospect but were it not for that decision, she would never have met Seven. There was no question in her mind, given the same circumstances, just for that single, wonderful result, she'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"I love you, Kathryn," Seven said, looking at her intently. "Always."

Janeway smiled. "I love you, too, darling," she said.

"However, you need to hear it, now," Seven said slowly, as if trying to find the right words. "I do not know how I know that, but I do. You need to know that I love you."

Janeway stared at her in surprise for a moment, then let herself surrender once more, her head bending forward to rest on the stained chest as she wrapped her arms around the Borg's slender waist. "You're right, Annika," she admitted softly. "I did need to hear it. Maybe more than I knew."

"Then I needed to tell you," Seven responded, sounding pleased that she had made the right conclusion.

Janeway snuggled into the woman's embrace, closing her eyes even as she knew she was stealing precious moments from attending the hundred and one things that needed to be addressed on an away mission that had subsequently become a survival outing in the mountains. It just felt so good to be held in these arms, to be sheltered and protected from the outside universe for this brief period of time. Seven seemed to sense that, holding the captain lovingly as she stroked the short, auburn hair lightly, with a warm comfort.

"I do love you, Annika," Janeway said fiercely. "With all my heart."

"I know," Seven responded with gentle assurance, kissing her temple.

Then, Janeway heard the sound of voices outside raised in an argument and with a sigh, she felt Seven release her, and they both left the shuttle to see what was going on.

Seven raised her eyebrow as she observed Paris and Torres standing nose-to-nose with each other, yelling at the top of their lungs, their faces flushed dark with fury. Neelix and Sek were nowhere to be seen, and the Borg presumed they were off gathering fungi for the Talaxian's stew. She suppressed a delicate shudder at the thought, and refocused her attention on the two Voyager crewmembers standing in the middle of the camp, raging at each other.

She was aware of Janeway moving forward, clearly wanting to get involved, and Seven snagged her partner's elbow, holding her back in the shadows of the runabout, their arrival still unnoticed. Seven realized that the captain had a certain proprietary interest in each and every crewmember, but in this case, perhaps it would be best if they both stayed out of it. The conflict appeared to be clearing the air between the two ex-lovers, despite the high decibel count of their conversation, and Seven judged that the insults being swapped lacked the vehemence that she had heard in previous incidents.

Janeway looked up at her, obviously wondering at the hand on her elbow, and Seven regarded her intently. "They need to bring this to a conclusion," she said softly. "Without our input." She added pointedly, "When we are in conflict, we do not appreciate interference from anyone else."

Seven saw Janeway take a slow breath, and knew her partner was not convinced, but she seemed willing to stand by, at least, for the moment.

"Look, I'm sorry, I slept with Jennifer," Tom was saying, "but you're just milking it now. I know you and Chakotay have been spending a few nights together, so it's not like you're the injured party here anymore."

"But I wasn't with someone while I was supposed to be with someone else," B'Elanna snarled back.

"For the last time, I thought you were dead," he snapped bitterly. "But who knows, maybe this is for the best. God knows, there are plenty of women on Voyager who would be more than glad to spend time with me. Women with better looks, better temperament, and a lot better sense of humor."

Seven thought that was a bit unwise. Paris should not be bringing comparisons between lovers into the discussion. That was just asking for a countering argument, perhaps involving Chakotay and certain measurements.

"I appreciated you just fine," B'Elanna spat scornfully. "More than you deserved."

"No, I was more than you deserved," he responded. "It's not like you were that great in bed.  My god, it was more like a wrestling match half the time than anything else."

Seven raised an eyebrow as she saw how that obviously stung B'Elanna, and fastened her hand securely over Janeway's mouth, forestalling the comment the captain had no doubt been about to say to interrupt the unhappy couple. Seven was aware of astounded blue-grey eyes looking at her over the muzzling hand, but the younger woman did not remove it, maintaining her grip securely.

B'Elanna was starting toward Tom, fists clenched, then, to everyone's amazement, she stopped and suddenly started to laugh. "I give up on you, Paris," she said indifferently. "You're not worth my effort anymore." She raked him up and down with a disdainful look, and stalked off.

Paris seemed uncertain what to do next, as well he should, Seven considered. Once a Klingon had dismissed someone in that manner, it was over and done, no longer an issue. Nothing he could do or say would ever change that. She saw that Paris was somehow cognizant of that cultural truth, and with a face that was suddenly bleak, he strode away in the opposite direction.

"Mmmphh."

"Excuse me?" Seven said, removing the hand.

"I said, you can take your hand off my mouth now," Janeway said with a certain amount of annoyance. "Seven, do you realize what just happened here?"

"Yes," Seven said. "Their constant bickering is at an end. Even if Lt. Paris wishes to continue it, B'Elanna will refuse to participate. He is unworthy of her notice, and as a warrior, she will not lower herself to form a conflict with him. Assuming she adopts a purely Klingon attitude toward this."

Janeway frowned. "It was almost as if he was trying to push her into that," she said.

"Perhaps he was," Seven said sagely.

She was aware of Janeway glancing at her, and she met her gaze evenly until the captain looked away uncertainly. "Sometimes I think you know us better than we know ourselves," she said quietly.

"Borg objectivity," Seven noted calmly. "It is easier to formulate conclusions when one is not so close to the situation."

"Or maybe you're just wiser than you give yourself credit for," Janeway said. The captain shook her head then, as if to remind herself that there was work still to be done. "I need to take a reading on that lake."

Without further digression, she left the shelter of the runabout, and strode briskly across the grassy clearing, drawing out her tricorder as she walked. She trotted down the small rise, then picked her way gingerly across the shore of rocks and pebbles toward the lake which was a deep, clear blue, reflecting the snow-capped purple mountains in its azure depths.

For lack of anything else to do, and the fact that she'd rather be with Kathryn than anyplace else in the universe, Seven followed, activating her tricorder as well.

"There are lifeforms in the water," Seven noted as she paused beside the captain, studying her tiny screen closely. "A large variety, too many to identify."

"Fish," Janeway explained, kneeling by the water lapping gently on the rocky shore. "Insects, microscopic life. All manner of living creatures. An entire ecology."

"Indeed?" Seven said with interest.

Though her parents had been exobiologists, and her education had been vast as a Borg, Seven's knowledge of nature, and all its lifeforms working in environmental harmony, was not nearly as extensive as her knowledge of technology. Born in space, Seven had spent most of her existence in artificial life support, while her parents pursued the study of a very technologically based species. Of course the Borg were not interested in studying other species ... they merely assimilated them.  Seven supposed that her parents had occasionally taken her planetside during her formative years, but she had no real memory of it, and her experiences on Voyager were also fairly limited. Seven knelt beside the captain, mimicking her motion as she dabbled her fingers in the water.

"It is very cold," she noted. "Not like the ocean water I touched. That was warm. This is almost damaging in its temperature."

Janeway regarded her with some surprise, then her face softened. "I don't suppose you have a lot of experience in the great outdoors," she said quietly. She pointed at the mountains. "This is fresh water, Seven, not like a salt ocean. The white area, running down most of that peak? That's a glacier, and as it melts, it feeds the lake here. That's why it's so cold." She looked regretful. "Which is too bad. A swim would have been nice."

"'A swim'?"

Janeway looked surprised again. She shook her head with what seemed impatience with herself. "Yes, Seven," she said. "I don't know why I'm surprised you don't know what that is, but then, I keep forgetting you didn't grow up on a planet. Swimming is something like bathing, only in a large pool of water. Humans do it for recreation."

Seven considered that for a long moment, searching her memories. "Swimming must have been considered irrelevant by the Collective," she said finally. "I do not have the skill."

She was surprised, but charmed, when Janeway took the hand she had splashed in the water with, clasping it between her palms to warm it. "Then, I will teach you," Janeway said softly, looking at her with a gentle expression.

"Now?" Seven regarded her with surprise.

"Oh no, not in this," Janeway smiled. "That would be an invitation for hypothermia. No, when we get back to the ship, I'll program a pool into the holodeck."

"All right," Seven agreed. She hesitated. "I find holodecks are not as ... complete as reality. Are you aware of that?"

Janeway raised a brow. "Yes, I am," she said. "No matter how good the simulation, there's always a sense that it's not real, not completely accurate."

"Would us making love on the real bridge be better than our experience of a few nights ago?" Seven asked.

Janeway got the expression on her face that Seven learned to recognize as the captain suppressing her initial response, and instead, trying to formulate a thoughtful, more comprehensive answer.

"I don't know," Janeway said finally. "Maybe it would, but then again, the reality might be worse. What made that evening so special to me, Annika, was not the fantasy itself, but that you made such an effort to try to make my fantasy come true. That means more to me than I can ever express." She squeezed the hand between hers gently. "No one has ever loved me as much as you do, darling. No one has ever tried so hard to please me, to know me so thoroughly. If I don't always remember to say it, know it for absolute truth. You are absolutely the best thing that ever has or ever will happen to me."

Seven felt a heavy blush of pleasure color her cheeks as she listened to these words of vulnerability and need so rarely offered by the captain.

"You are the best thing that ever happened to me," she responded huskily.

"I hope so, Annika," Janeway said with a slight hitch to her voice, looking away. Her eyes seemed to take on a grey tinge, saddened somehow as she gazed over the waters of the lake.

Seven suddenly realized that the captain did not believe her, that somehow Janeway did not know that her presence in Seven's life was necessary. In fact, Kathryn was suddenly giving every indication that she thought she was somehow unworthy of being the younger woman's partner. Seven thought such an idea was patently ridiculous but then, Janeway had a way of worrying about things that never would have occurred to the Borg, yet completely missed things that truly bothered Seven, like showing up late for dinner without apology, or leaving things laying around in their quarters.

She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Janeway, pulling her close. "Without you," she said softly. "I am incomplete. The difference between a simulation and reality. Without you, I am pure intellect, a drone, single and alone, functioning, but not alive. You make me real. With you, I feel, I love, I am. You are everything that makes me alive."

Janeway caught her breath and hugged her back, and Seven felt tears dampen her shoulder.

"I did not mean to make you cry," Seven told her.

"You are the only one who can," Janeway whispered. "Starfleet Command should know how easy we captains can be defeated with just mere words from the Borg."

"I suspect it is just one certain captain," Seven responded with a faint smile. "And a single Borg drone."

"I suspect you're right." Janeway managed a laugh.

They heard the sound of voices coming from the forest, and Seven released her, allowing Janeway the moment she needed to compose herself before facing any of her crew. The young woman stared at the lake before her, and tried to imagine what swimming would be like, how it would feel to be in water vaster and deeper than any tub. When she glanced at her partner again, Janeway's command mask was back, stoic, controlled. Kathryn was a woman of great warmth, and her crew knew that, but how gentle a heart she really had, how vulnerable a soul she housed in that energetic little body? Only Seven would be privy to those hidden depths.

Seven decided that was more than merely acceptable.

The fire crackled cheerfully, lifting the shadows of night, and providing a circle of golden, flickering light for the Mississippi team. Sparks danced up into the star-studded darkness, and from where she sat on the stairs leading to the runabout, Janeway felt like a child again, sitting in her back yard on a cool summer's evening in Indiana. Across the fire, she could see Seven and B'Elanna sitting together, heads bent as they discussed god only knew what, looking furtive and completely up to no good. B'Elanna brought out a playful side to Seven in a way that Janeway did not, less competitive and more frivolous. The captain was painfully cognizant of the fact that Seven had been denied a childhood and adolescence, and if that lingering need sometime displayed itself while in the company of the engineer, then the least Janeway could do was look the other way and make allowances for it. The fact that, by extension, she ended up making allowances for B'Elanna as well, which she suspected the Klingon was starting to realize, was an unfortunate side effect, but perhaps one she could afford for Seven's sake.

Sitting to the side, making sure both Neelix and Sek were between him and B'Elanna, Tom Paris stared pensively into the flames. Janeway's heart went out to him, but like most things, she knew he would get over it. He was a remarkably resilient young man, ready to bounce back from all life's little obstacles with just a little encouragement. Indeed, he would occasionally glance over at Sek with a certain speculative expression on his boyish features. Janeway took a breath, trying not to think about that one. She didn't even want to start contemplating all the aggravation that would cause, not to mention the sheer complications of a Human/holographic relationship.

Neelix was regaling Sek with the recipe for his fungus stew, which despite tasting somewhat musty, managed to stay down. However, Janeway would just about kill at the moment for one of Seven's potato, corn and beef casseroles. Or even one of her cookies. The young Borg hadn't quite managed to learn how to prepare food completely from scratch like Janeway's mother had, but Seven still had an amazing touch with the replicated ingredients, even starting to experiment by altering the recipe slightly on occasion to see what resulted, and so far, most had been very successful. The mark of a natural-born chef.

Janeway wondered if Annika's real mother would have taught her daughter to cook if given the opportunity. Somehow, Janeway doubted it. Where Janeway's parents had lived in an agricultural park on Earth, conducting themselves as staunch Traditionalists, which had been a constant source of embarrassment to a young Kathryn growing up, Seven's parents had been scientists, space explorers, proudly unconventional even in Federation terms. It was still surprising to the captain that Seven seemed far better suited to Janeway's family than the captain sometimes was. However, it warmed her to know that both Gretchen and Kathryn's younger sister, Phoebe, had completely accepted and loved Seven when she had been stranded in the Alpha Quadrant. It gave the couple a renewed sense of home awaiting their eventual return.

Janeway found herself suddenly missing that home with profound intensity, the sudden awareness of the distance between her and Earth creating a deep, throbbing pain inside her. When she looked up, the stars were all wrong, and the sounds around her, the soft calls of the L'Borna night creatures, were unfamiliar, achingly so. Feeling adrift and very close to tears, she quietly got up and left the circle of light, making her way down to the lakeshore where she listened to the soft lapping of the water against the pebbles. A large moon was rising above the mountains surrounding them, casting a silvery luminescence on the water, and she stared at the orb, feeling even more lost and alone when she saw, not the easily identifiable features of Luna, but the odd craters and crevices of the L'Borna satellite.

She shivered in the breeze that sprang up over the water, stirring little wavelets, and she hugged herself tightly, feeling isolated from everyone and everything she had ever known. Suddenly, two strong arms were pulling her back against a warm lanky body, while a silvery thermo-insulated sleeping bag was draped around them both.

She huddled gratefully in the embrace, closing her eyes and leaning her head back, feeling the soft breath stir her hair, the gentle brush of lips against her temple.

"How do you always know when I need you?" she asked quietly.

"I love you," Seven responded simply.

Janeway smiled, and turned so that she could face her partner, raising her face to Seven's kiss, the touch soft and gentle, barely touching her mouth to hers. It sent a tingle through the captain, and she parted her lips, encouraging a deeper taste to which Seven immediately responded, pressing closer.

"Where?" Seven whispered against her, pulling the captain closer to herself.  Her thigh pressed insistently against Janeway's groin, warm and inviting.

Janeway drew back for an instant, knowing immediately what was being asked, and glanced around quickly, spotting the silver mass of a tree trunk which had undoubtedly been deposited on the grassy knoll during the high water of spring thaw, well away from the sounds and light of the campsite. "There," she responded.

They linked hands as they picked their way over the rocky shoreline to where the grass began. Circling the huge log, they put the bulk of the driftwood between them and the runabout, finding a hollow in its leeward side. They opened the sleeping bag and spread it over the soft turf, crawling into the flannel-like interior, and wrapping themselves around each other with pleasurable anticipation.

Janeway snuggled deep into the loving embrace, feeling the warmth surround her, staving off the night air which had become crisp, as well as the cold loneliness that had crept over her. She managed to find the catch at the back of Seven's neck, undoing it and pulling the outfit down to the woman's waist.

"You are so beautiful," she whispered huskily as she ran her fingertips over the full breasts, the delicate pink nipples hardening immediately. She felt, rather than saw, Seven smile against her cheek as the Borg wormed her hands into the Starfleet tunic, loosening it with practiced ease, drawing it off as Janeway twisted to help her.

This is not exactly the best place to make love, the captain thought as they managed to finish undressing each other in the warm cocoon of the sleeping bag, tossing the discarded clothes out onto the grass. After all, there was a perfectly good runabout not too far away, and a habitat set up for them nearby. However, so were the rest of the away team, closer than Janeway could be comfortable with. Here at least, in the sheltering shadow of the tree trunk, she and Seven were alone, apart from everyone else, with just the dark surrounding them, the soft sounds of water filling their ears, the stars twinkling down on them from above, and each other with whom to completely occupy themselves.

Seven's slender body felt incredibly hot against Janeway, almost fevered as it pressed against hers, and Kathryn clung to her, kissing her passionately as she felt the woman's hands slide over her with comforting familiarity. This was like being home, Kathryn thought wistfully. Safe, warm, protective, and oh so sweet. Seven knew exactly how to hold her, where to touch her, what she needed at any given moment, and the gentle caresses drew whimpers of delight from her, quiet moans that she tried to muffle against the smooth skin of Annika's shoulder.

She felt Seven's fingers on her breasts, caressing the soft swells of flesh, stroking the hard little nipples that tingled beneath the gentle fingertips. Kathryn arched and entwined her legs with her lover's lengthy ones, kissing Seven again and again. She was consumed by the wonderful taste of Annika, the full lips that moved over hers so skillfully, the tongue that darted and played inside her mouth, dancing over wet tissue and teeth, teasing her own tongue. She kept stroking Seven's back, adoring the long silky smoothness of it, sliding up the gentle bumps of spine to the back of her neck where the fine hairs tickled her fingertips, then back down to the soft hollow at the base where it spread out to the generous swells of Seven's firm buttocks. She traced the starburst metal of twin implants set in each dimple above the cheeks, knowing how much it meant to Seven that she not avoid the reminders of the Collective which were still very much a part of the young woman.

She moaned as Seven reached down between them, and drew Kathryn's thigh up to rest on the Borg's hip, sliding her hand languidly along the thick muscle. Her powerful left arm encircled the captain's back, pulling her against the lanky torso, and taking advantage of her greater reach and longer arms, she slid her hand down between them to touch Kathryn gently, slipping her fingers into the moist heat, rubbing over the aching ridge that made Janeway jerk and cling tighter to her.

"Oh, darling, that feels so good," Kathryn murmured, burying her head into the hollow of Seven's neck, gripping her shoulders with tense fingers as waves of pleasure rippled through her.

"I want you to feel good," Seven told her huskily, fondling her with gradually increasing pressure, intensifying the caress.

Janeway felt her lips draw back over her teeth as she felt Seven dip lower, the fingers swirling around her entrance, then penetrating so gently, carefully, filling her with their warmth and strength. She groaned as Seven caressed her internally, not thrusting, but gently stroking the velvet-slick walls of her interior even as the Borg brought her thumb over the firm little center of Kathryn's desire, flicking it back and forth. Kathryn gasped for breath, panting as she felt sweat dampen her forehead, and she made a soft guttural sound when Seven's fingertips found the smooth, intimate area of sensation inside her. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the noise she wanted to make, the scream of delight struggling for release in her throat, turning it to a deep moan of sheer pleasure as she felt her body start to spasm. Her breath a sob, she shuddered helplessly in her climax, squeezing tight the fingers inside her, pulsating around them, drawing them deeper inside, her nails digging into the muscles of Seven's slender back. Blindly, she searched for Seven's mouth, feeling it close over hers possessively, capturing the cries she could no longer stifle.

After a blissful eternity that passed far too quickly, she felt the spasms finally subside, and Seven gently released the kiss, freeing her lips, nuzzling her cheek and jaw with loving tenderness.

"Oh god, Annika," she whispered, swallowing hard in a mouth gone dry from her struggle to draw breath. "Oh, my love."

"I am right here, Kathryn." The voice, soft in her ear as she felt the long fingers slip out of her even as she regretted their loss. The strong arms enfolded her, pulling her close as Seven cradled her carefully, not pushing for her own desire, simply letting Janeway be, allowing her to enjoy the slow relaxation from muscles growing lax. "I will never let you go."

Kathryn purred in the back of her throat, and kissed the line of Annika's neck, feeling a delicious languor permeate every muscle, the sweet lassitude of satisfaction turning her lower body to liquid. She pressed against Seven, knowing that her partner was aroused, feeling the desire that burned in the young Borg, wanting to build that flame into a raging inferno which would overwhelm Seven, needing to pleasure her as deeply as she had been pleasured.

Luxuriously, she ran her fingers through the long, silky golden hair spilling over Seven's shoulders, reaching up to kiss the woman again, slowly, gently, letting all the love and desire she had for her lover come through as best she could. She captured the full, bottom lip between hers, and sucked on it gently, probing it with her tongue, nibbling carefully with her teeth. Her hands drifted down the spine once more before reaching to trace the smooth line of Seven's sides, the knobby ridges of her rib cage, resting briefly on the sharp hipbone. Janeway grasped the strong muscle of Seven's thigh, parting the legs as she pushed her knee between them. She bent her leg, sliding up until she felt the soft, vulnerable wetness bathe the top of her thigh, sliding slick against the heat, and the hard little knot that skidded along the skin of her upper leg.

Seven moaned and rolled them over until she was on top of Kathryn, hips beginning to undulate as Janeway lowered her head to take a breast into her mouth, tongue dancing over the velvet hardness of nipple with hungry intent. Seven spread her legs farther apart, and thrust harder against Kathryn even as the captain pushed her thigh up into the tender flesh, increasing the friction. Janeway sucked and bit gently at the full breasts as she slid her hands around to the small of Seven's back, running down to the muscled buttocks, grasping them firmly, pulling them against her as she helped Annika increase the resistance between them. Her fingers fell naturally into the crease between the soft swells, and she felt her fingers brush against the puckered orifice which caused Seven to rise up, pulling away from Kathryn's mouth, throwing her head back as she groaned loudly despite her efforts to remain quiet, arms braced to either side of the captain's shoulders.

Intrigued, Janeway touched Seven again with more intent, pressing her fingertips against the wrinkled circle as the young woman rocked on her, and she understood that the Borg was being pleasured by the intimate caress. The captain was very careful here, not attempting to penetrate her in any way, or wanting to try for too much and disrupt Seven who had achieved a steady rhythm. She simply let Seven know her fingertips were there, stroking her lightly as she thrust against her. Then, she felt the tip of her little finger slide just inside, gripped with incredible tightness, and Seven was shuddering above her, a choked cry issuing from her lips. Kathryn pressed her leg hard against Annika, guiding her through the climax until finally, the young woman lowered her body onto the captain, trying not to collapse completely, but trembling too hard to support herself.

Janeway wrapped her arms and legs around Seven, pulling her down onto her, able to bear the greater mass on her for these brief, precious moments that Annika needed to regain control over her senses. Then, the captain arched, able to roll them onto their sides, Seven still clinging to her.

Seven drew back a bit, trying to see her face in the dark.

"Kathryn," she whispered uncertainly. "What did you do?"

Janeway smiled and kissed her gently. "Loved you," she murmured quietly. "Discovered a little bit more about you. Something we'll have to explore in greater detail at another time if you'd like."

"I would," Seven said in a wondering tone. "I have so many areas of my body that have so much sensation. Sensation I'm not aware of until you show me."

Janeway pulled her close, thinking about that. "It could have to do with the recent removal of your implant," she said pensively. "I know I've touched you there before, and you had no reaction whatsoever. I'm beginning to think a lot of your nerve endings were blocked or severed by that implant." She nuzzled her gently. "Do you notice a difference since your operation?"

"Yes," Seven said readily. "I grow tired more quickly, but I also feel so much more when you touch me now as opposed to how I felt before. It is very intense now. It is like..." She paused, trying to find the proper words to explain it. "Do you remember when we were in the turbolift while returning to our quarters after one of Neelix's dance parties, and you touched me through my outfit?"

"Uh, yes," Janeway replied, blushing furiously.

She had been feeling particularly randy that evening, and, to her own surprise, she had grabbed Seven in the turbolift and rubbed her firmly between her legs, kissing her hotly before suddenly letting her go, instantly composed as the lift doors opened. She walked out into the corridor with consummate dignity past Commander Chakotay and Lt. Kim who had been awaiting the lift, not deigning to look back, though she was aware that Seven had not immediately followed. The young woman had been completely flustered, flattened against the bulkhead of the lift, staring after the captain with wide-eyed astonishment, absolutely stunned.

Maybe I haven't been so restrained with showing Seven my wilder side after all, Janeway thought ruefully.

"Before my operation, it was as if you were always touching me through a layer of material," Seven explained. "Now when you touch me, it is as if you have removed that material."

Janeway took a breath as her partner's words penetrated. "Why didn't you tell me, Seven?" she asked quietly. Clearly, Seven had not possessed complete use of her nerve endings and certainly, Janeway could not expect it to be localized just in the areas of sexual response. What other kind of damage did the Borg do to her beloved? Was any of it permanent?

"I did not know," Seven pointed out. "Until it felt differently."

"Of course, you didn't, Seven," Janeway said, hugging her gently. "That was a stupid question."

"You are not stupid, Kathryn," Seven reminded her. "You are the most intelligent Human I know."

Janeway smiled. "I must be," she agreed softly. "I was smart enough to fall in love with you."

Seven made a pleased sound, and shivered in the crisp night air, huddling even closer to the woman in her arms. "I was intelligent enough to allow it," she said, gently teasing.

Janeway bit gently at her chin in response, then sighed. "We have a problem," she said.

"Indeed?"

"Yes, the temperature has dropped about ten degrees, and we should get to the protection of our habitat in order to sleep," she said.

"That requires us to dress first," Seven noted without enthusiasm. "Can we not sleep here?"

Janeway groaned. "We could," she allowed, "but we'd regret it in the morning. There are at least three rocks under my hip. I don't notice these things when I make love, but I certainly do when I'm trying to sleep."

"Very well," Seven agreed grudgingly. Without warning, she threw back the covering, and Janeway had to stifle a shriek of protest as the brisk night air hit her body, devoid not only of the sleeping bag, but of the warm and very pleasant Borg's body next to her.

Shuddering, Janeway rolled to her feet, and the pair of them quickly yanked on their dew-dampened clothes before dashing back to the campsite. Everyone else had apparently retired for the evening, and the fire had been allowed to die down to glowing red coals. Hastily, they crawled into their temperature-controlled habitat, undressing once more, and rearranging their sleeping bag on the mattress which covered the insulated floor of the hut. It did not take long before they were once more curled around each other, sleep swiftly overcoming them.

Seven of Nine woke in the grey light of pre-dawn, acutely aware of the body in her arms, deliciously soft and wonderfully warm. Smiling, she pressed close to the form with sleepy delight, feeling the smooth back against her breasts and stomach, the soft buttocks that fit neatly into her groin. She did so love waking up next to Kathryn. It was a profound pleasure, one that filled her with such supreme happiness that she could scarcely remember what it was like to terminate regeneration in an alcove. No, she decided, she did not miss her abdominal implant at all.

She nuzzled the auburn hair, felt her lover stir briefly in response, making a quiet sound of contentment before settling down into a deeper sleep, her breathing slow and deep. Seven wanted to stay here forever, where it was comfortable and cozy in the sleeping bag, wrapped around Kathryn for all eternity.

However, she had promised B'Elanna she would assist in the project the engineer was planning this morning, and from the stealthy sounds across the camp, she knew the Klingon was already on the move. With a great reluctance, Seven carefully untangled herself from Janeway and eased out of the warm cocoon. She froze as Kathryn stirred again, a murmur of protest on the captain's lips, but Janeway did not wake, instead, curling up into a fetal position in the depths of the sleeping bag.

Seven let out a slow breath and crawled out of the habitat, wrapping her uniform around her torso to hide her attributes though, except for B'Elanna who eyed her sardonically, there was no one else up this early. The two women skittered across the wet grass on bare feet to the runabout, sealing the door. B'Elanna motioned with her head, indicating Seven could have the facilities first, and the Borg gratefully acceded. She would have preferred a hydro burst, but the shuttle was outfitted only with a sonic shower, so she utilized it quickly, the vibrations shaking away the dirt and dead skin with an efficient thoroughness. Seven replicated a new outfit, black like her Velocity workout outfit which left her arms bare to the shoulders, and slipped out of the small lavatory, barely avoiding B'Elanna who immediately darted into it.

As B'Elanna prepared herself, Seven replicated a mug of nutritional supplement that she knew would be enough to carry her through the day. As she sipped the clear, sweetish liquid, she looked out through the viewport lining the front of the runabout. A grey mist danced over the still waters of the lake, wisping like ghosts seeking shelter from the oncoming sun which was already beginning to suffuse the fog with a golden light. Seven shivered slightly, wondering why she felt apprehensive, then recognized the fact that B'Elanna's plans were usually the sort that Kathryn did not always appreciate. However, the element of fun that always seemed to be present in them made her participation irresistible, even with the threat of the captain's disapproval looming over her.

B'Elanna exited the head, and went over to the replicator, materializing a mug of coffee and a breakfast bar for herself. She ate quickly, then in a low undertone, directed Seven to help break out the containers from the compartment at the rear of the runabout. Moving quietly, they carried them down to the water's edge, Seven watching curiously as the engineer activated the largest container which unfolded into a bright yellow, inflatable raft. B'Elanna tossed two oars into the boat, along with the rest of the other equipment before helping Seven into the red life jacket. She donned her own, and together, the two wrestled the raft over to the lake. They were just about to slide it into the deeper water when a slender form materialized from the mist.

"What's going on here?" Captain Janeway asked coolly, eyes grey in the predawn.

B'Elanna yelped and whirled, hand pressed to her upper chest. "You scared three years out of me!" she objected.

"I find that unlikely," Janeway said wryly. "You haven't answered my question, Lieutenant."

"We are going fishing," Seven told her proudly.

"Do you like fishing, Seven?" Janeway asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do not know what fishing is," Seven responded honestly.

Beside her, Seven saw B'Elanna roll her eyes, and she thought she detected a hint of amusement in Kathryn's even gaze.

"Why are you going fishing?"

"Because I'm not going to waste this wonderful lake," B'Elanna responded with a touch of defiance. "I'm betting there's a load of trout out there with our name on their little sides." She regarded Janeway with careful consideration. "There's an extra life jacket," she added with a sly grin.

Janeway lowered her head a little. "I presume this is not a catch-and-release expedition," she said.

B'Elanna shrugged. "You can release yours if you want," she said, "but I'm going to keep anything I get. I'll be damned if I'm gonna eat that leftover mushroom stew for the next two days."

"Will you join us, Kathryn?" Seven asked. She smiled wistfully at the captain. "It will be more fun if you come."

Janeway stared at her for a moment, her eyes softening perceptibly, and then nodded abruptly, reaching into the raft to pull out the other life jacket. Chortling quietly in triumph, B'Elanna pushed the raft onto the water, and the three gingerly climbed in. Janeway and Torres appropriated the oars, and with quiet splashes that barely rippled the surface, they paddled the raft out a certain distance, then began to follow the shoreline, looking for a likely area to find fish. Seven sat in the middle of the boat, cross-legged on the bottom, watching all this with lively interest, feeling warmed by the presence of her partner behind her, and her friend in front.

They found a quiet spot where the lake shallowed into the beginnings of a marsh, and B'Elanna unpacked the other containers which held long, thin metal rods. Seven observed closely as B'Elanna quickly strung hers with a fine filament, attaching a brightly colored object with a sharp hook at the end. With Kathryn's help, Seven prepared her own tool which the captain told her was called a 'fishing rod', threading the 'fishing line' through the little metal guides. Her 'lure' was a silver and blue metallic object, and with Janeway on the seat behind her, arms wrapped around her to assist her action, Seven made her first 'cast', the line shooting over the still water with a quiet hiss before plopping into the lake.

"Nice," B'Elanna said softly, already having sent her line spinning into the water. She eyed the captain briefly. "Done this before, have you?"

"Once or twice," Janeway allowed in a tone so dry it threatened to suck up the lingering remains of the mist.

B'Elanna snickered, and pulled in her line, recasting.

Seven peered over her shoulder into Kathryn's face. "What now?" she asked.

"Turn the lever," the captain instructed quietly, resting her hands gently on the Borg's shoulders. "That will pull the line in, dragging the lure through the water, making it look like prey. The key is to attract the fish into biting it where the hook will snag in its mouth, and you can haul it in."

"How will I know that a fish has taken the bait?" Seven said, keeping her voice low. Apparently it was important to be quiet, much like sneaking into a building after becoming drunk. Perhaps fishing was also a covert operation.

"You'll know," Janeway said. "There'll be a tug on the line, then a lot of resistance."  She grinned.  "Which of course, would be futile."

"Oh," Seven said. She did as she was instructed, but when the lure finally left the water, it was still empty, dripping as the metal gleamed briefly in the sunlight now filtering through the mist to bring sparkles to the water around them. Seven gazed at it with profound disappointment. "It did not function."

"It doesn't always," Janeway said with a smile. "So you try again ... and again, until one of two things happen."

"What two things?"

"You catch a fish..." Janeway began.

"Or you bust your rod in two, throw it in the water and go home," B'Elanna finished for her.

Janeway actually laughed a little at that, and Seven looked back at her, surprised to see the relaxed grin on her lover's face, the way the captain's eyes sparkled a brilliant blue, reflecting the water and sun. This fishing is good for Kathryn, she thought. We must do more of it in the future.

"I will try again," Seven said. With Janeway's assistance once more, she cast out over the still water.

"Try turning slower," Kathryn advised. "Make the lure a little more appealing."

Seven did as instructed, decreasing the speed with which she brought in the lure. The day was beginning to warm up, and B'Elanna took off her tunic, rolling her sweater sleeves up over her forearms which showed well defined musculature as she flexed them, casting.

The boat had a slight, rocking motion, the bottom undulating beneath Seven where she sat, periodically casting as the captain lounged behind her. The Borg was aware of the water around them, a mass of sparkling shadows, while the purple, blue and white-capped mountains loomed majestically over them, almost comforting in their solid bulk. Seven could hear the captain's soft exhalation of breath stirring the hair on top of her head, and there was a constant, gentle splash of tiny waves lapping against the raft. The long, green reeds stirring off to the side where the marsh settled, whispered low in the soft breeze that wafted around them, carrying with it the smells of the forest and lake. Seven could also detect the faint fragrance of Kathryn so close to her, a warm, musky scent, vaguely spicy from the soap she liked to use, the warmth of her body reaching out to surround her with a perceptible sense of love and devotion. Seven felt a profound and utter contentment fill her, this moment etching itself forever in her mind as one that was truly happy.

She glanced back, wondering if Janeway was feeling the same sense of peace. Kathryn's face was composed, still, eternally calm, her bright eyes distant as she stared at the granite rock rising above them. On this side of the lake, the water butted up against the sheer cliffs and crystalline veins sparkled as they ran jagged up the rock face. She seemed to feel Seven's eyes on her and she shifted her attention to her partner. Kathryn smiled at her then, warm, relaxed, completely at ease, teeth white against her wine-shaded lips, and she leaned against Seven, resting her forearms on the Borg's shoulders.

"Ever rock climb, B'Elanna?" Janeway asked suddenly.

B'Elanna considered the mountain. "Not that one," she warned gently. "Fun is fun, but that's too much like work."

Janeway brushed her lips close to Seven's ear. "I think I shall have to teach you rock-climbing, love," she said, her voice low, making the Borg tingle from the nearness of it.

"I would like that," Seven responded. She was about to say more when she felt a sudden tug on her line. "I have something."

Janeway's hands were firm on her shoulders, keeping her from leaping up in her excitement, which probably would have capsized them all. "Easy, Annika," she said, eyes glowing. "Just be calm. Pull it in gently."

"It is struggling," Seven noted, the rod flexing in her hands, tightening her grip to hold onto it. Her eyes were wide with astonishment and glee, especially when she saw the fish leap high in the air, a hefty silver form that poised for a breathless instant in the sun, before plunging back into the cool depths of the lake.

"It's a big one," B'Elanna noted professionally. "We'll eat well today. Don't lose it, Seven."

"Let it exhaust itself," Kathryn advised calmly. "B'Elanna, do you have a net?"

"Right here," the engineer said, scooting to the side of the raft, a metal hoop with emerald netting attached to it. "Bring it into the side, Seven."

Seven tried to listen to all this advice, the vibration from the rod making it hard to hang onto as she carefully turned the lever, the fish making difficult what once was easy. She thought she now understood the appeal of this endeavor ... this 'fishing' ... though she had been quite skeptical when B'Elanna had explained it the night before. It was fun, and very exciting trying to bring the creature to her, even though the relative comparison of brain capacity between her and a fish should have precluded any sort of challenge to it at all.

Finally, the fish was close enough to scoop into the net, and B'Elanna strained as she hauled the catch into the boat. Seven regarded it with huge eyes.

"It is so big," she said.

"That it is, darling," Janeway said with a laugh.

"Hold it up, Seven," B'Elanna told her, handing the slimy creature to her.

Bemused, Seven grasped it tightly, her mesh covered left hand gripping the snapping head, her right holding tightly to the tail with a good two and a half feet in between. Janeway reached around her, helping hold onto the creature which did not seem willing to stay still, flopping in her grip as the captain worked the hook from it's gaping jaws.

"Hurry up, Lieutenant," Janeway ordered.

"Smile for posterity," B'Elanna instructed, aiming her tricorder at them, recording their actions.

"What are you doing?" Seven asked, feeling her grip slip.

"Giving you proof," B'Elanna said. "What every fisherman needs after the rest of the evidence is eaten."

"Are we going to eat this?" Seven asked, feeling squeamish as she regarded the thing in her hands. Honestly, she knew the Klingon had that in mind when they started, but now that she actually was seeing the fish up close, it held very little appeal.

"Unless you want to throw it back," Janeway offered. "You can release it if you want."

"Yes," Seven said. "I wish to let it go."

"Oh, Seven," B'Elanna said, staring at them both in astonished dismay. "You can't mean it."

"Yes," Seven said. She glanced at Janeway, feeling her grip slip more as the fish seemed to sense she was about to free it, redoubling its flailing. "May I release it now?"

"Anytime," Janeway said, smiling at her.

Seven heaved it away from her, sending it several yards away where it plunged into the lake with a mighty splash.

"Simply dropping it over the side would have worked as well," Janeway offered mildly.

B'Elanna just looked disgusted. "Bleeding heart," she said. She grabbed her rod and cast. "Maybe if I'm lucky, it'll be stupid enough to hit again." Almost immediately, her rod bent and she chortled happily as she started hauling in her catch. "A really dumb fish there."

Seven raised an eyebrow as the top of the water was suddenly disturbed, and she sensed Janeway frowning beside her.

"That doesn't look like the same fish," Janeway noted worriedly.

Suddenly, B'Elanna's catch rose out of the water.

And kept rising, higher and higher, the huge creature throwing a shadow over them as all three women gaped like children at an amusement park. Horn-like protrusions rising from its forehead, eyes glinting emerald in the sun as the horselike head wove back and forth on a serpentine neck which spouted from the bulk of the body still submerged in the roiling water. B'Elanna had let go of her rod, and it dangled, ludicrously small, out of the corner of immense jaws that were full of jagged teeth, its scales glowing iridescently in the mid-morning sun.

"This can't be good," B'Elanna muttered.

"Don't move," Janeway said quietly.

Seven just stared, eyes as wide as they would go, periodically remembering to close her mouth only to have it drop open again as soon as she refocused on the behemoth before her.

"Paris to Janeway." The captain's comm badge chirped. Three sets of eyes settled on Janeway's chest in horror. "Captain, we're being scanned. Sensors indicate two separate L'Borna forces heading in this direction, one a L'Bree detachment, the other, a government squad. We're between enemies."

Seven heard an audible gulp from B'Elanna, and a quieter one from Kathryn behind her.

It occurred to her that she probably should have remained in bed this morning.

Captain Janeway stared up at the creature with a dry mouth, acutely aware of Seven huddling against her legs while B'Elanna stared pop-eyed at the other end of the boat. Unobtrusively, the captain began to reach her hand across her front, going for her phaser, and saw the chief engineer mimic her motion. Instantly the huge head darted down, staring at them from only a few feet away, and they both froze, barely daring to breathe. Janeway heard Seven make a little sound in the back of her throat, though she suspected the Borg was unaware that she had done so.

The creature examined them closely, tilting its head from side to side as it regarded them, first with one emerald orb, then shifting to the other. It blew out its breath in a rush, blasting them with a wave of warm air that smelled of fish and sulphur. Janeway gulped and attempted to inch her fingers to her weapon once more, wishing she carried it on her right hip, rather than the traditional cross-draw position that Starfleet officers tended to use. The nearest eye immediately centered on her, the pupil an ebony slash against the brilliant green. The huge jaw dropped open, revealing row upon row of white, gleaming teeth and a serpentine, forked tongue slithered in the cavernous mouth like an independent living thing.

"Excuse me, but that wouldn't happen to be an energy beam weapon you're attempting to pull, would it?" the creature remarked, raking her with an appraising look. "Or are you just happy to see me?"

Janeway felt all the blood drain from her head as her brain started running about in circles, gibbering wildly. The voice was low and rumbling with ... and she could scarcely fathom this ... a distinctly Scottish accent. With a huge effort, one she thought she would never be capable of generating again, she firmly brought her mind to heel and looked at the creature with what she hoped was a properly dignified, diplomatic expression. Though she had a sneaking suspicion she looked more like Seven and B'Elanna whom, she saw out of the corner of her eye, were displaying twin masks of utter discombobulation.

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager," she said, hoping it ... he? ... knew what a starship was ... and that it didn't hear the distinct quaver in her voice.

"Are ye now?" it said, moving its nose closer, sniffing avidly at her. "You're definitely not a L'Borna, to be sure."

The fine whiskers that surrounded his muzzle tickled Janeway as they moved over her. "No, I'm not," she admitted carefully. "I am a Human from a planet called Earth in the Alpha Quadrant."

The head suddenly drew back, the abrupt motion sending a surge of water which rocked the boat. Janeway was profoundly glad she was already sitting down, or she would have ended up on her ass ... or over the side.

"Earth?" The voice took on a thundering tone, reverberating in their ears. "Ah, yes, I know of Earth. That miserable piece of dirt upon which the sniveling little inhabitants hounded and harassed me until I finally had to leave. So you've tracked me down here, have you?"

Janeway felt her eyebrows do their best to crawl off her head. "You know of Earth?" she said. "I'm afraid you have the advantage on me."

The head was suddenly level with her again, eyes narrowed as it regarded her. "Yes," he hissed, and before she could react, the tongue darted out and slapped at her tunic, leaving behind a trail of slimy wetness, before disappearing back into the gaping jaws. "I believe I do ... which is a nice change. Have you come to take me back to the Loch? Surely you can gather your tourists by some method other than by parading me around. "

Janeway swallowed, trying hard to follow this line of discussion. "I assure you, we intend you no harm," she said imploringly. "We're explorers, lost in the Delta Quadrant. We were attempting to make our way home when we stopped to aid the L'Borna in destroying an asteroid which was on a collision course with this world."

"The L'Borna know you're here then," he noted. "You didn't just land on a whim."

"No," Janeway said. "There was an uprising, a social disturbance which our regulations forbid us to interfere in so we attempted to hide from them. Unfortunately, I've just been informed that there are two separate groups on their way here now. They must have tracked us somehow."

A blast of air peppered her liberally with assorted fish scales, no doubt from his last meal. "This is terrible," he roared. "For centuries, I have evaded their notice, living peacefully in my lake. Now you're telling me that, not only have you disturbed my rest, agitated my food and hit me in the head with a fish, you have led the inhabitants of this planet directly to my hiding place?"

"It was completely unintentional," Janeway said sincerely. "I'm very sorry."

"You're responsible for this," he roared.

"Yes," Janeway said. "I take full responsibility."

"No," Seven spoke up for the first time. "I am the one who struck you in the head with the fish. I am responsible for that."

"I'm the one who chose this area to hide from the L'Borna," B'Elanna said, giving the creature the evil eye. "So if you want to whine about it, blame the fates. We all just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Deal with it."

The creature looked at the other two, sniffing. "You two aren't Human," he said. "The skinny one smells of machines, and the hard little one smells of something different altogether. Why do you protect the Human?"

"She is our captain," Seven said. "I do not know why you are angry at Humans, but after centuries of being in the Delta Quadrant, your complaints seem irrelevant."

"Seven," Janeway muttered warningly.

The creature's mouth gaped and from deep inside, came a thundering noise. It took a few moments before they were able to identify it.

Laughter.

"You are feisty, aren't you, little machine girl," he said. "I like you ... and you fed me a tidbit. So, tell me, what am I supposed to do now? I can't eat you. I never liked the taste of Humanoids. You taste too much like pork. High in cholesterol and gamey besides."

"I'm sure if you submerge, they'll never know you exist," Janeway interrupted carefully, forestalling Seven's reply. She could clearly see that the younger woman was intrigued by the supposed 'taste' of Humans, and was about to argue it. "It is us they are pursuing, after all. We'll leave, and I give you my word that we will not reveal your presence here."

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because," Seven said with absolute conviction, "Captain Janeway always fulfills her promises."

He regarded the Borg for a few moments, then with a sigh, he dropped his head below the surface and disappeared, only a ripple showing he had ever existed. Janeway felt her head pound. That had to be one of the oddest experiences of her life, and now that he was gone, she found she had a million questions to ask it. Where exactly on Earth did it come from? How did it get here, 60,000 light-years away? What kind of creature was it? What method of transportation did it use? How long had it been alive?

"You know what?" B'Elanna said in the stillness that followed. "I turned off the tricorder after scanning Seven's fish, and forgot to activate it again. No one's going to believe what we just saw."

"Oh god," Janeway said, feeling overwhelmed. "Let's get back to shore."

From over the mountains, she could hear the hum of approaching aircars, and through the breaks in the jagged peaks, she saw the first, silvery shapes of vehicles racing towards them from two separate directions. As they paddled frantically for the campsite, they saw that each group had different colored paint striping their machines. One, the royal red, the other, the fanatic yellow ... and that they were firing at each other with great enthusiasm.

Seven helped B'Elanna haul the boat on to the shore, pulling it up to the grassy bank as Janeway sprinted for the Mississippi. The Borg noted that the campsite had been neatly removed, with little to indicate anyone had been there beyond a few marks in the turf. Even the fire pit had been covered and scuffed over. Working in tandem, Seven and B'Elanna picked up the boat, and hustled for the runabout, trying to reach it before the L'Borna ships came within scanning range, their location still protected somewhat by the towering peaks. At the ramp, they threw the boat aboard, then plunged in behind it, the ramp retracting at their heels as the door slid down to seal the vessel. Tom Paris, manning the helm, immediately lifted off, the deck canting under the woman's feet, and they had to grab at the two nearest empty seats to keep from tumbling to the back of the cabin.

Seven discovered she had chosen the science station, and immediately activated the console, scanning the oncoming vessels. She was aware of B'Elanna at the port side engineering station, monitoring the runabout's systems, while Sek and Neelix sat in the passenger seats, and tried to stay out of the way. Janeway had taken the co-pilot's seat and was attempting to hail the L'Borna.

Unfortunately, the two sides were still in conflict, and both were blocking sub-space as well as the various atmospheric frequencies with their jamming techniques. They continued to fire on each other, and now, had apparently targeted the Mississippi as well. The little ship rocked slightly as it was struck by a stray shot. Janeway allowed a little impatience to color her motion as she deactivated the comm signal.

"Seven, what's the status of the ion storm?" she snapped.

Seven touched her controls, getting a reading on the space lying beyond the atmosphere they were dancing through. "The storm is still present," she reported crisply. "It has lessened in intensity, but is still too strong to attempt to leave the system."

The runabout suddenly rocked again as either the L'Bree or maybe it was the government forces, began to direct the full power of their weapons on its aft shields. The L'Borna weapons could not generate enough force to penetrate the shields, but the repeated impacts tended to make the ship shudder, and it made for some bumpy flying.

"Captain, we can keep this up all day," Lt. Paris said calmly. "The question is, do you want us to?"

"Can we outrun them?"

"Not in the atmosphere," he admitted. "Those vessels are designed for it. The Mississippi is primarily a space vessel, and not aerodynamic at all."

"Can you shake off their pursuit?"

"I can try," he advised. "But you should strap in."

"Do it," the captain ordered.

The rest all utilized the restraints that were on their chairs, strapping themselves down. The sandy-haired pilot glanced back to see that they were all locked in, then proceeded to throw the ship into a series of wild maneuvers designed to escape the pursuing forces.

Or cause them to be violently ill, Seven noted, swallowing hard.

The ship was executing stunts she did not feel were possible for such a vessel, and the fact that they were still in the atmosphere made things even worse. Gravity came and went with a randomness that sent her stomach rolling and she felt nausea rise sharp within her. She could see the faces of her fellow crewmembers from the corner of her eyes, and knew they were also experiencing affects from the careening ride. She glanced forward at Kathryn, and noted the distinctly greenish tinge to her porcelain features. Perversely, it made her feel a little better to know she was not alone.

"This ... isn't ... working." The captain said between clenched teeth. "We ... need ... another ... plan."

Tom immediately flattened out the flight ,and it was with distinct relief that Seven took a deep breath, then another.

"What if we don't leave the system?" B'Elanna offered suddenly.

Janeway looked back, raising an eyebrow. "Explain," she ordered.

"What if we just make a short jaunt to the moon?" B'Elanna said. "Hole up there. Those ships aren't designed for space travel, they're atmospheric only. It's unlikely they have any space ships in orbit to track us. They'd have all been brought into port."

"We should be able to cover such a limited distance with no affect to the systems," Seven concurred, going over the projection on her board. "The L'Borna satellite has a limited atmosphere. We will be unable to breathe it, but it is enough to protect the systems from being affected once we're there."

"Who knows how long the storm will last," Paris objected. "No offense, but being stuck in a small runabout with five other people for days on end is not my idea of fun."

"However, it is survivable," Janeway noted. "We will no longer be interfering in this planet's social development. Somehow, we've become some sort of prize for both sides and it's time to remove us from the playing field." She nodded at Tom. "Lay in the fastest course to the moon. Seven, scan for a crater, the deeper the better, which will give us the most protection with the thin atmosphere. B'Elanna, maintain a constant monitor on our systems. Our survival counts on their proper working order."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Understood."

"Aye, Captain."

Seven set to work, scanning the moon intently. She felt the deck angle upward beneath her, and a quick glance through the front viewports revealed the last wisps of blue giving way to the deep blackness of space ... a darkness streaked with vivid, glowing strands of ionized energy from the storm awaiting them. The Borg set her teeth, and refocused on the board, determined to provide Kathryn with what she had requested as quickly as possible.

"Three possibilities, Captain," she said. She fed the data to the fore console, along with the coordinates. The ship swayed and bumped as it was buffeted by the energy fluctuations surrounding them, and Seven knew that B'Elanna was keeping a close eye on the diagnostics, drawing power from some of the systems to bolster the shields when necessary.

The captain looked over Seven's selection, and chose one. "Here," she said, showing Paris their destination.

"Got it."

Before long, they had entered the thin atmosphere of the moon, and were racing over the jagged surface, seeking the crater which would shelter them from the worst of the storm's effects. They plunged into a deep hole which seemed to descend forever, a violent tear in the lunar surface, shadowed dark and unappealing. The ship descended for long minutes, their exterior lights the only thing showing the way until they reached the bottom, and with a delicate precision, Paris activated the landing gear and set the Mississippi down.

"We have arrived," he stated. He glanced at Janeway who patted his shoulder approvingly.

"Well done," she said. She glanced back at the rest of the crew. "All right, I don't know how long we'll be here, but we'll maintain standard operating procedure. An around the clock duty roster will be applied, and while we're here, we might as well do scientific readings on this moon's interior, as well as a constant sweep on the storm. The second it lets up, we're heading after Voyager."

"So much for the celebration in our honor," Neelix noted dryly.

"A shame," Sek said, unhooking her harness. "I would have liked to have studied the L'Borna longer. Now we'll never know what really caused the uprising, how it will turn out, or what effect it will have in the long term development of their society."

"Unfortunately, that's the price we pay here in the Delta Quadrant," the captain told her sympathetically. "We'll probably never know what happens with most of the beings and civilizations we encounter. The L'Borna will just have to work out their own destiny ... whatever that includes."

"What of Nessie?" Seven remarked. Everyone looked at her and she motioned to her board. "I just ran a description on the creature we encountered on the surface," she said. "The only correlation of Earth creatures to the description I provided was something called the Loch Ness Monster who supposedly inhabited a glacial lake in an area known as Scotland in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The local inhabitants nicknamed it 'Nessie'."

"What are you talking about?" Paris asked, staring at her blankly.

B'Elanna groaned. "I knew no one would believe us," she muttered.

The captain held up her hand. "Perhaps we'll have the opportunity to investigate it further in the future," she promised. "In the meantime, however, we need to secure from quarters ... and for god's sakes, get rid of that raft, it smells like fish."

Paris reached over and flicked a scale off Janeway's tunic, sniffing audibly. "With all due respect, Captain," he said, grinning. "I don't think it's the raft."

B'Elanna Torres stepped off the runabout, and into the startled embrace of Chakotay, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. Apparently the chief engineer was making a public statement, Janeway thought wearily as she strode down the ramp onto the deck of Voyager's hangar. God only knew what repercussions that would bring, but she wasn't going to think about them now.

It had been a long week trapped on that moon, and an even longer few days of chasing after the starship. She had never felt so glad to return to Voyager before, completely sick of the interior of the Mississippi, and convinced that she'd never volunteer to head up another away mission. Let her first officer do all the grunt work she decided with exhaustion. She'd be more than glad to lounge on the bridge from now on, and she promised herself she'd never complain of feeling crowded on board her vessel ever again.

"Captain," Chakotay said, untangling himself from the Klingon. "Glad to have you back." Janeway smiled wearily as she saw the blush had darkened his face to a deep, rusty brown.

"Glad to be back, Commander," she said. "Status?"

"All systems normal," he responded. "We've resumed our course for the Alpha Quadrant."

"Excellent," she said. "I'm heading to my quarters where I shall be in my bathtub for the foreseeable future."

"Understood," he said with a grin.

She headed for the hangar doors, feeling the familiar presence of Seven fall into step with her. Casually, almost as an afterthought, she reached out and linked her hand with that of the tall, cool blonde, feeling the warm fingers entwine with hers. She thanked all the powers that be that Seven had been with her on that trip. Her partner had been the one thing which had made it bearable, especially towards the end of the first week at the bottom of the crater, when the runabout walls started pressing in, and the bickering between Tom and B'Elanna threatened to resume. If Seven hadn't managed to keep the engineer occupied with discrete little system failures, Janeway was sure that she would have had to toss one or both of the ex-lovers out the runabout's airlock. For that, she would be forever grateful to the Borg.

She squeezed the young woman's hand and glanced at her from beneath lowered lashes. "Can I interest you in a bath?" she offered.

"I'm going to take a shower," Seven said quietly.

That disturbed Janeway, unable to remember her partner ever refusing such an offer before. However, Seven had been uncharacteristically subdued for the past couple of days, and it was possible that she was simply feeling the need for space after so long in such crowded conditions. Still, as a Borg, it was unlikely she had been more affected by it than the captain. When they walked into their quarters and sealed the door, Janeway immediately began undoing her tunic, eyeing her partner closely.

"Seven, is something wrong?" she asked.

Seven shook her head slightly. "No," she said as she headed into the bathroom. "I will not take long. I will make dinner while you are bathing."

"All right," Janeway said, frowning as the younger woman disappeared into the ensuite.

She dropped her tunic on the sofa, glad to be home once more, realizing with a certain surprise that was exactly how she was viewing her quarters. For the first time since leaving the large, white house in Indiana where she had grown up, she had finally made herself a home, and if it wasn't the Alpha Quadrant, then it was still where she belonged, simply because of the woman in the ensuite. She couldn't deny that feeling anymore. Sitting down on the chair in the living area, she kicked off her boots, wriggling her toes with a quiet enjoyment as she looked around the cabin, at all the personal items that the couple had been acquiring over the past few months, the smells and sounds that surrounded her, familiar, comfortable.

Yet, the captain believed something was bothering her partner, and decided that if she just asked the right questions ... in just the right manner ... Seven would tell her. The Borg was not very good at keeping things secret, Janeway decided, looking up as Seven entered the room, catching her breath as she saw the short, black robe the woman had donned. It was a personal favorite of both of them, and she felt desire stir within her, chasing away her exhaustion.

Later, she told herself sternly. Bath first, then dinner. Afterward ... well, they would get to it at its proper time.

"I am finished in the ensuite," Seven informed her, her hair still damp from it's towel drying, spilling wild and tangled over her shoulders. "I have started your bath."

"Thank you, love," Janeway said. She peeled herself off the couch, but did not go toward the bathroom immediately. Instead, she drifted over behind the taller woman who had gone to the replicator and was materializing various ingredients. Gently the captain placed her hands on the slim waist, and rested her chin on the narrow shoulder, having to stand on tiptoe to do so. "What's for dinner?"

"I think a casserole," Seven replied coolly. "Beef flavored, with corn and potatoes."

Janeway smiled. "My favorite," she said.

"I know," Seven responded.

Janeway stared at the profile turned slightly away from her and frowned again. Seven's eyes were distant, troubled, but Kathryn knew in her gut that if she pressed right this moment, the younger woman would just draw farther away. Give her time, Kathryn told herself. Let her settle in a little more, get more of a sense of home reestablished.

"I won't be long," she said quietly, and kissed Seven on the shoulder through the silken robe.

She went into the bathroom, stripping off the rest of her uniform with relief. She could swear that there was still the odor of fish about it, though of course, that was impossible. She had replicated it about twenty times since the creature known as Nessie had exhaled all over her, and though she had been picking the scales out of her hair two days after the fact, she knew she didn't smell of that ... just of spending too much time in a runabout.

She settled into the tub with a sigh of bliss, letting the hot water soothe her muscles, easing her mind of its worries. Before Seven, this had been the only thing in her life that could lighten the burden of command somewhat, and she loved her bathtub with a pure and honest intensity. She noted that Seven had put the captain's favorite oils in to scent the water, making it flow silky smooth over her skin, and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes happily.

More time passed than she realized, and she started as Seven came into the bathroom, bearing a tray of food.

"I'm sorry, Annika," she exclaimed, sitting up as Seven positioned her dinner next to her, the specially designed tray clamping onto the edge of the tub. "I lost track of time."

Seven smiled briefly, just a touch to the corners of her mouth. "I realized you would," she said indulgently. "You always do when you're taking a bath."

Janeway realized suddenly that whatever it was that was bothering Seven, it wasn't her and she gave a silent sigh of relief. She glanced at the tray and decided that Seven had brought her own dinner in as well, apparently planning to eat it with her while crouching on the floor beside the tub which wouldn't do at all. With a deliberate intent, Janeway assumed her most appealing expression ... her 'puppy dog' look as she called it. It was rarely used and as a result, was fairly potent stuff. "Join me, darling," she said persuasively. "I know you've already showered, but come in the tub with me. Please?"

Seven hesitated, took one look at those blue eyes that Janeway went so far as to bat at her, and was lost. "Very well," she allowed grudgingly. She slipped out of her robe, and gingerly eased herself into the tub opposite Janeway.

Janeway, who had already tackled her food, regarded her measuringly. Yes, Seven did seem a trifle more relaxed now, less disturbed. The captain knew that was a result of preparing food, which for some reason, Seven found enjoyable, and the soothing properties of the warm water in which she was immersed. Seven's legs entangled in hers as the Borg moved closer to the other side of the tray, and began to eat.

They didn't speak as they consumed their meal, content to simply be in each other's company as they enjoyed the first food in weeks that hadn't come from Starfleet rations or Neelix's imagination. Finally replete, Janeway leaned back in the tub, lounging in the hot water which maintained its temperature by internal heaters, and regarded Seven with stuffed benevolence.

"As always, darling," she said. "That was incredible. My compliments to the chef."

Seven nodded distantly, and Janeway decided enough was enough. She carefully moved the tray out of the way and straddled Seven, wrapping her arms around the startled young woman's neck.

"Talk to me darling," she said, dipping her head to look into the pale blue orbs. "Tell me what's bothering you, please. I want to help."

Seven lowered her eyes. "I do not know if you can," she said softly.

"Let me try?" Janeway urged gently. For some reason, this was not something where she could be commanding with her questions though she didn't know how she knew that. This was something she had to tease out of Seven, carefully, gently, lover to lover. Definitely not captain to crewmember. She kissed Seven on the temple, tenderly pressing her lips to the pulse point there. "I would really like to try," she murmured.

Seven raised her face a little, and Janeway took the opportunity to kiss her again, sweetly on the mouth, persuasively. "Maybe if we talked," the Borg allowed, a little breathlessly when her lips were finally released.

"I want you to talk to me, darling," Janeway replied softly, running her hands gently over Seven's shoulders, down her arms.

"Then we should get out of the tub," Seven noted dryly. "I think it would be easy to become ... distracted here."

Janeway, who discovered she had been idly tracing Seven's breasts with her fingertips, agreed. There was just something about being with her lover in this scented water that made it easy for her to lose track of what she was doing. "All right, sweetheart," she said with an abashed grin. "Where?"

"I am tired," Seven admitted. "Can we go to bed? Can we talk there?"

"Of course," Janeway acceded. She kissed her again and drew away.

They got out of the tub and dried each other off with large, fluffy bath sheets, quickly without the normal teasing and caresses. Janeway felt her concern deepen as Seven left without noticing the black robe which had been left in a heap on the floor. As the captain scooped it up, and brought it into the bedroom with them, laying it on the lounger, she hoped Seven wasn't picking up all of B'Elanna's bad habits. Crawling into bed, Janeway stretched out on her back, bringing down the lights to a dim illumination. Seven waited until the captain was settled before snuggling close to her, resting her head on her shoulder, placing her left hand carefully on Janeway's chest. Her long leg draped lightly across the captain's thighs, and Janeway sighed as she wrapped her left arm around the slender torso, happy to be in her own comfortable bed once more.

She entwined her fingers with Seven's, feeling the careful grip of the Borg implant closing over her right hand, and she rested her cheek on the blonde hair, smiling gently. For several moments, they lay together in the darkness, Janeway feeling the warmth of the body next to her penetrate her own to the very bones. For a moment, she thought Seven might have fallen asleep, but the breathing was too uneven for that.

"Tell me, darling," she requested quietly.

"It is B'Elanna," Seven said softly. "I deceived her."

Janeway blinked. "When?"

"When we were on the runabout, and I created the series of system failures," Seven said.

"That was at my request," Janeway said carefully. "You cannot take responsibility for that."

Seven shook her head. "I must," she said. She hesitated, then added in an uncertain tone. "You may have noticed, I do not always follow your orders."

"Oh, I've noticed," Janeway said dryly, a wry grin touching her lips.

"I choose which of your commands I will follow," Seven elaborated. "I am not Starfleet, nor do I necessarily believe in the concept of a chain of command. I do not obey you out of any conditioned sense of duty or training. I obey you because I wish to, and that means I am always responsible for my own actions."

"All right," Janeway said after a moment's contemplation of that. It wasn't pleasant to hear, but it was accurate ... more accurate than she had allowed herself to recognize before this. "I don't know that I'm comfortable with that, but I allow it's what you believe. It was your decision to follow my instructions."

"Yes," Seven said. "However, after thinking about it, I feel I chose incorrectly. It was wrong to deceive B'Elanna that way. She is my friend."

"Yes she is," Janeway said. "However, if you hadn't caused those system failures, what do suppose would have happened? What was already happening?"

"She and Lt. Paris were resuming their antagonism," Seven answered readily. "Which would have been annoying, but that is no reason to betray her."

"I think 'betray' is too strong a term, Annika," Janeway said slowly. "You shouldn't look at this as a betrayal. Perhaps if you realized why I made the request, you would feel easier about it."

"I know why you made the request," Seven noted. "It is because you did not wish to listen to them argue. I did not either, which is why I did it, but that does not make it right."

Janeway shook her head. "No, that's only part of it," she said patiently. "Seven, we were six people, including a hologram unfamiliar with social skills, two lovers and two ex-lovers, trapped in a very small area for an unknown length of time. It is very easy for tempers to become frayed in such a situation, sometimes seriously. It was important for all of us to maintain our heads, and if that meant creating a series of false readings to occupy my chief engineer, then that's what had to be done. In fact, I would have done it myself, but I thought your Borg ingenuity would be a little more untraceable. However, I wouldn't have asked you to do it if I knew it was going to bother you later. I believed it was the best decision for all of us on that shuttle."

"That is not the point. It was wrong," Seven insisted in a low voice. "You taught me that it is harmful to deceive the people I care about. You told me how much it hurt you when I kept the fact that I needed my implant removed from you, even though I thought I was doing what was best for you. So why was it right to deceive B'Elanna here?"

Janeway took a long, slow breath. Seven wasn't trying to be argumentative, she was honestly trying to understand the moral implications of this situation. Granted, it seemed like a minor thing to be upset about, but how could Seven understand the different degrees of compromises Humanity required to co-exist? The answer was that she couldn't, at least not yet. At the moment, she was just confused, and frankly, Janeway couldn't blame her.

"It was not necessarily 'right', Seven," Janeway said quietly. "Not all decisions are a matter of right or wrong. Some are a matter of choosing what is less wrong."

There was a pause as Seven contemplated that. "I do not understand," she said with a frustrated little sigh. "You were angry when I decided it was best to deceive you. B'Elanna would be angry as well. Why is your anger justified and hers not?"

"Her anger would be justified," Janeway responded, stroking her hair soothingly. "I knew that possibility existed when I made the decision, but that's part of taking responsibility, Seven. I knew B'Elanna could discover the deception, and would be angry, but I was prepared to deal with it in order to maintain the peace in the runabout for as long as possible. It was a consequence I was willing to take, and I would not have let her be angry at you for following my order."

Seven shifted uncomfortably in the dark. "Who are you to decide this?" she asked. It was not an accusation, it was a question, honestly posed.

"I'm the commander," Janeway said, and she tightened her embrace, wanting Seven to listen closely to what she was about to say, needing her to understand. "Regardless of my rank. That's what being in command is about. Making decisions not only for myself, but for those I'm in charge of. It is a power, yes, but more importantly, it is a great responsibility. I know that I won't always make the right decision, Annika. I won't even always make the one that's less wrong, but I will always accept the responsibility for making that decision, I will always accept the consequences of making it. When you find yourself in command, you also must accept it."

"Why would I want to be in command?"

Janeway smiled. "It's not always a matter of wanting to," she said dryly. "Sometimes, it's just something you have to do, because no one else can or will. I accepted it freely. I trained and strived for it, just as others in Starfleet have, but even when you haven't, you will still find yourself in a position where you have to make decisions. In fact, you already have. When I placed you in command of creating the Omega chamber. When you took us through the nebula all by yourself. You wanted those responsibilities, didn't you?"

Seven was silent for a moment. "Yes," she said slowly. "I did, but that was because I wanted to please you."

"Why did you think that would please me?" Janeway asked. "In fact, both times, I tried to dissuade you. Why was it so important that you convince me that you could handle such responsibility?"

Another pause as Seven thought hard. "Because it meant that you trusted me," she said.

"That's also what command is all about," the captain said. "I command through trust. It is possible to rule through fear, but not effectively, or for very long, especially in the situation we're in. My crew has to trust that I will do what I believe is best for them, and even when I make mistakes, that I will take responsibility for that as well. In the nebula, I put my trust in you, Seven. I believed you would make the right decisions for us. It was a great responsibility. How did you feel when it was over?"

"It ... I felt good," Seven noted with some surprise. "It made me feel ... stronger, more confident. To know  you trusted me, to know that I could make the correct decisions in a difficult situation, made me feel ... successful."

"Yes, and that's how I feel too," Janeway admitted. "There is something inside me that likes the challenge of it. It's very much a part of me, of who I am and I didn't realize how much it was until I was lost here in the Delta Quadrant." She cuddled Seven close to her, kissing her gently on the forehead. "I will admit, though I wouldn't let anyone else know this, it means more that you follow my commands because you want to, not because you feel you have to. I had to earn your loyalty, darling, and that makes it far more precious to me."

Seven nodded. "I think I understand," she said. "However, I still want to tell B'Elanna what I did, and apologize for it."

The captain nodded. "Do you understand why I can't?" Janeway asked her quietly.

"I believe so," Seven allowed. "You can never regret decisions, you can only accept the consequences of them."

Janeway smiled. "That's very good," she complimented. "That's exactly right."

"Are some are more difficult than others?"

The captain sobered. "Yes," she said softly. Faces and names crossed her mind. Crewmembers killed while under her command, people she had lost. People she had failed.

"So you would never regret severing me from the Collective?"

Janeway hesitated, surprised, then laughed as she recognized the hint of teasing in the tone, of what the original question had really meant.

"No darling," she said. "I just have to accept those consequences." She cupped Seven's cheek in her palm, and raised her face to hers, finding the full-lipped mouth and kissing her gently.

"For the rest of my life if I'm very, very fortunate," she added in a gentle murmur.

Epilogue

B'Elanna slammed the spanner down on top of the console as Seven winced at the crash it made. She didn't think the Klingon was taking this at all well.

"You mean to tell me that I've been driving myself crazy running diagnostics on the runabout trying to figure what was causing those system failures, and all along it was you!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs.

"I am sorry," Seven apologized profusely. "It was not my intention to cause you harm. I just wanted to ... divert you from the situation."

"This was the captain's idea, wasn't it?" the engineer snarled. "The conniving bitch."

Seven blinked, hesitating as she considered what Kathryn had said. Still, this could not go unopposed. "I obeyed the request," Seven said firmly. "I also agreed that it would keep you and Tom from resuming your bickering. Please do not refer to Kathryn in those terms. Your anger may be justified, but it does not excuse demeaning the captain, or my partner."

"Yeah, and what the hell are you going to do about it?" B'Elanna returned hotly.

"Grab you by the neck and hold you upside down over the rail until you apologize," Seven responded coolly. "Or until you are unconscious, whichever comes first."

B'Elanna opened her mouth to respond, hesitated as she gauged the sincerity in the tall blonde's eyes, and growled in frustration. Seven was one of the few people on the ship who could actually carry out such a threat, and from the Borg, it was not a bluff, it was a promise. Not that B'Elanna was afraid of a fair fight, but the idea that Seven might actually dangle her from the upper level of engineering in front of the whole staff was so potentially humiliating, she didn't want to risk it.

"All right," she muttered. "Though it wasn't really an insult, Seven. Not from me."

"Still, not everyone knows you as I do," Seven said, aware of the rest of the engineering crew hovering just within earshot on the main level below where they stood on the catwalk bordering the warpcore. "While the captain might forgive it were she here, I cannot."

"Okay, I take it back," B'Elanna said gruffly. She looked at Seven with dark eyes from beneath her proud ridge. "But dammit Seven, we're supposed to be friends."

"We are," Seven told her sincerely. "That is why I told you of this. It was not my intention to make you appear incompetent." She paused. "In truth, I was surprised you were able to repair most of them so quickly. It was difficult to keep coming up with new ways to divert your attention."

"Why didn't you just tell me to lay off Paris?"

Seven blinked. "Would that have been effective?" she asked in astonishment.

B'Elanna glowered at her, then was finally forced to smile. "No," she said.

"B'Elanna, I am truly sorry I followed the captain's order," Seven said humbly.

B'Elanna shook her head. "You have to obey the captain," she said.

Seven was about to point out that in fact, no she didn't, but she sensed it would initiate a much longer and more frustrating discussion than the one they were already involved in. Instead, she just nodded gravely.

"Do you forgive me?" she asked.

B'Elanna looked disgusted but since she wasn't looking at her directly, Seven suspected it was for the benefit of the onlookers, not her. "All right," the engineer grumbled. "But next time, divert Paris, why don't you."

"I promise," Seven said. She continued to look at B'Elanna. "Are we still friends?"

B'Elanna actually blushed, which Seven found fascinating.

"Yeah," she said shortly and glared down at her staff who immediately occupied themselves with their work.

"Can I hug you?" Seven asked, pushing for all she was worth now.

B'Elanna's head came up and she stared at the Borg who managed to keep a sincere expression on her face. "What?"

"I understand that when Humans have a disagreement, one usually offers a physical display to indicate the conflict is at an end," Seven said blandly.

"How about if I shake your hand?" B'Elanna said, frowning.

"If that is the acceptable alternative," Seven responded and held out her hand.

When B'Elanna took it, however, Seven immediately wrapped her up in a bear hug, squeezing tightly.  The Klingon was very aware of her engineering crew observing this with extreme amusement.

"Seven," B'Elanna whispered. "Let me go."

"Certainly," Seven said, and kissed her soundly on the cheek before releasing her.

Stunned, B'Elanna stared at her, flushing deeply, then roared.  "You are a dead woman!"

Seven was forced to leap over the rail as the Klingon lunged at her, and without a backward glance, she bolted out of engineering, running for her life as B'Elanna plunged down the ladder and howled after her. The crew watched the two disappear out the door, and went back to their tasks, shaking their heads in tolerant amusement.

Things were back to normal on Voyager.

The End

•  This is the 6th in the Just Between series.

• It was written months before even the rumors of Dark Frontier surfaced. It was posted in the first part of September, 1998, prior to the beginning of the fifth season of ST:Voyager.

Just Between
A Rock and A Hard Place
G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine woke with a start, not knowing what it was that had disturbed her. Then, an elbow thudded into the side of her ribs, and a hand smacked her smartly across the forehead, letting her know that her bedmate was having a bad dream. Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager did not have nightmares often, but when she did, they were usually violent, with a marked amount of flailing around in a random and completely uncontrolled fashion. That elbow was sharp and it had hurt, driven into Seven's torso without restraint.

Seven wrapped the smaller woman up in her arms, feeling a certain remorse. It was entirely possible that the argument they had the day before was what had prompted this nightmare. Seven had noticed that Kathryn's bad dreams usually coincided with having to make a difficult decision or when a crisis had just ended.

Or when she had been in a conflict with someone she cared about.

"Shh, Kathryn," she whispered in the small ear, holding the woman tightly, minimizing her nocturnal struggles. "It is just a dream. You are all right. I am here with you. Nothing can hurt you."

The captain did not always wake up. Sometimes Seven's reassuring words and close presence were enough to ease Kathryn out of whatever she was dreaming, and into a more relaxed REM sleep. This must have been a particularly bad series of images, however, because Janeway came awake with a jerk, body shuddering as she reached out, entwining her arms around Seven's neck and clinging to her, her breath coming in anxious pants. Her body was damp from sweat, and Seven knew she would be chilled so she drew the blankets closer around them.

"It is all right, Kathryn," Seven soothed, rocking her slightly. "I am right here."

Seven felt the captain slowly relax, her breathing smoothing out to become regular, the grip on the young woman's neck easing gradually.

"Damn," Kathryn muttered. "Lights, one quarter."

Seven knew the captain was always embarrassed after waking from a bad dream, as if it were a display of weakness or a flaw of some sort. She did not understand why, it was just how Kathryn felt. So, when Kathryn cleared her throat and pulled away, sitting up to wrap her arms around her knees, Seven did not try to impede her. Instead, she sat up as well and stroked the smaller woman's bare back lightly, letting her know she wasn't alone.

"Was it very bad?" Seven asked softly.

Janeway shook her head slightly though, from her eyes, clouded grey, Seven knew it had been. Carefully, she put her hands on the captain's shoulders and rubbed them, gently massaging the tense muscles until finally the hard knots began to loosen. Janeway took a deep breath.

"Damn," she said again, in her low throaty voice. Her gaze shifted to Seven's and softened, the eyes shading to blue even as the younger woman watched. Janeway shrugged lightly. "Had to do with losing Voyager," she explained. "And you. Nothing that made sense but it left me feeling afraid and helpless."

Seven knew that Kathryn hated feeling helpless more than anything else. She continued to rub her back, slower now, trying to relax her completely. "Perhaps your dreams were bad because we argued earlier?" she suggested.

"Perhaps," Janeway allowed dully, staring blankly across the grayness of the room.

"Do you realize, that if we make love before we sleep, you never have bad dreams?" Seven offered.

Janeway raised her head, blinking, then a grin curled the corner of her mouth which gratified Seven no end.

"Indeed," Janeway said.

"Yes," Seven said, smiling a little as she leaned over and kissed the nearest shoulder. "You always dream after a conflict, but not if we have made love. We should have made love last night."

Janeway smiled then, her teeth bright against her lips. Seven loved her smile. It changed Kathryn's entire face, stripping away the command mask, and leaving the warm, passionate woman Seven knew she truly was. "If I remember correctly," Janeway remarked, eyeing her with a touch of amusement. "I started to and you fell asleep."

Seven considered that. "You were scratching my back," she said uncertainly. "I find that very soothing."

"It wasn't meant to be soothing," Kathryn said dryly. "I was tying to make up with you. Maybe I'm just losing my touch."

"No, you are not," Seven assured her, moving closer and sliding her arm around the small shoulders, hugging her gently. "I was very tired. It was a fatiguing day yesterday."

"Yes it was," Janeway allowed. "Seven, I'm very sorry I yelled at you."

"I am sorry I shouted in return," Seven said, puzzled. She thought they had managed to lay the argument to rest. "I do promise not to throw things at you any more ... even if I was not attempting to actually hit you."

"That would be good," Janeway said with a weary sigh, leaning into the embrace and putting her head on Seven's shoulder. "I'm glad you're here with me, darling."

"I am, as well," Seven said. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yes," Janeway said, closing her eyes and sighing a little. "You always make me feel better." She turned slightly and slid her arms about Seven's waist as with unspoken agreement, they eased back onto the bed, snuggling together. "I would rather not have any more dreams like that."

"Then, we must endeavor to prevent them," Seven suggested softly, and rolled so that she was lying on top of the captain, pressing down on her lightly. "I believe I have a solution."

"I just bet you do," Kathryn murmured, looking up at her with half-closed eyes and a half-grin which gave her a sleepy, sensual expression. "What might that be?"

Seven bent closer and kissed her gently, brushing her lips over Kathryn's, barely tasting her. "Do you really require me to explain?"

"No, you can just show me," Janeway said agreeably.

Seven smiled, kissing her again, deeper this time as she felt Kathryn's lips part under hers, and the soft touch of her tongue against her own. Feeling the body beneath hers shift as the captain wrapped her arms around the small of her back to pull her closer, Seven allowed more of her weight to settle on the smaller woman. It was unhurried, naturally lingering as if they had all the time in the universe in which to indulge, which, Seven supposed, they did. She drew back after long blissful moments and looked down into the eyes glowing a bright blue.

"I love you," she whispered, captivated by those marvelous eyes, feeling as if she was falling into them. "So much. I wish I had a more extensive vocabulary in which to explain."

"You don't need it," Kathryn replied, smiling gently. "I can see the love in your face, I hear it in your voice, I feel it every time you're near. Annika ... I love you dearly."

Seven kissed her again, wanting so much to express what she was feeling. There was so much inside her that she wished she could share with Kathryn, but was unable to. Of course, if they were both members of the Borg Collective, Kathryn would know, would understand perfectly, their thoughts, their minds as one. But then, Seven reminded herself analytically, if they were both members of the Collective, there would be no emotion inside her at all, she would not care about Kathryn in any manner. Nor would Kathryn care about her. That caused a very real pain in her chest so she promptly decided not to think about that any more.

"May I ask you something, Kathryn?" she said in a low voice.

Janeway smiled a little, darted up to kiss her again. "What is it?" she responded.

"The difference between how we make love and how a man would make love to you," Seven said hesitantly. "Do you miss it?"

Janeway looked startled as if this had been the last thing she had been expecting. She studied Seven carefully. "No," she said. "Darling, I adore you. You're all I need."

"I accept that you do not wish to be with anyone else," Seven said, tilting her head a little as she looked down at the beloved features. "However, there is a difference in the mechanics of how I would make love to you if I were male. I have been discussing this with B'Elanna and she has explained that there are certain accessories that can be utilized to accomplish this. She says they are very lifelike which apparently is very important to the experience..." She trailed off uncertainly as she saw Janeway looking at her oddly.

Kathryn took a breath. "Did Lt. Torres describe these 'accessories'?" she asked.

Seven shook her head. "Not in precise detail though I believe I can ascertain certain of the functions from what such devices are supposed to imitate. She simply said that if I wished to mimic how a male would have sex, that a device could be replicated from the entertainment supply replicator," she said. "Also that you could probably instruct me as to its proper deployment."

"Oh, she did," Janeway said in a strange tone, one Seven could not identify. It was like a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "How would you feel about that?"

Seven was confused by the question. "If it is something you would enjoy," she said. "Then I will utilize a device."

"I see," Janeway said. "Would you like me to utilize one myself?"

Seven was completely confused now. "Without my input? Why would you wish to use it on yourself?"

Janeway smiled faintly. "No, I mean, would you like me to use it to make love to you?" she clarified gently.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "It had not occurred to me," she said honestly. She thought hard about it, imagining such a device being used by the captain on her and how exactly it would work. She felt a tightening in her belly ... of fear or excitement, she could not tell. "I am uncertain how I feel about that," she admitted after a few moments.

Janeway, who had remained silent as Seven thought, no doubt reading every expression that had crossed the young woman's face, nodded briefly. "You should probably think about it a little more," she suggested gently. "I have no objection to . . . 'toys' being used to accentuate our love life, darling, but it's not anything I need or require to be satisfied by you. I want you to understand that. All right?"

"Very well," Seven agreed, feeling vaguely troubled though she didn't know why.

She didn't quite understand Janeway's response. She had expected a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer, yet clearly there were deeper levels to this that she had not anticipated. She sighed. She had originally thought copulation was merely a physical interaction, but it had turned out to be something far greater. She did know that she was very glad Harry Kim had not taken her up on her offer to copulate when she had first come on board Voyager. Though she had been slightly intrigued by the possibility at the time, she now understood that whatever might have happened would have been much less than what she experienced with Kathryn, not necessarily the physical act itself, but because of the emotional connotation. There was just so much emotion associated with Kathryn.

She realized that Janeway was stroking her cheek gently, looking at her with mild concern.

"Are you all right, darling?" she asked gently.

Seven nodded. "Yes," she said. "I was just considering your words. I did not realize it was such a complicated issue."

Kathryn smiled. "Normally it isn't," she said. "However, you're inexperienced, darling, and that makes everything new and unfamiliar. I don't want you to do or try something you're not ready for just because you've been talked into it. I especially don't want you to ever feel you have to do something just because you think I might enjoy it."

Seven eased herself off to the side, taking her weight off her elbows and Kathryn. This had turned into a discussion rather than lovemaking. When would she learn not to ask questions or bring up new topics before the fact? Afterwards, she reminded herself. Always start the discussion afterwards ... even if Kathryn tended to fall asleep in the middle of those conversations.

"Your enjoyment is something that gives me great pleasure," Seven said. She paused. "I do not believe anything we do together would be detrimental ... other than the times I hurt you with my implant, of course, but I know you would never hurt me."

"I would never want to hurt you," Janeway corrected. "If I were careless, however, or forgot that you don't have the experience I do, then yes, darling, you could be hurt. Making love places you in a very vulnerable position."

Seven thought about what she was saying. "You believe the accessory could hurt me?" she asked.

"If things progressed too quickly, or if you weren't completely relaxed, then yes, it could," Kathryn explained. She ran her fingers through Seven's hair languidly. "An accessory, particularly the ones I suspect B'Elanna was describing, could be quite uncomfortable for you."

"B'Elanna says that size is a factor," Seven informed her gravely.

"It most definitely can be, and that was what I was thinking of," Janeway offered with a slight smile. She drew Seven's head down onto her shoulder. "Annika, accessories can be fun, but they're not important. All I need or want is right here in my arms this very second. You are everything to me."

"As you are to me," Seven agreed. "However,  B'Elanna apparently thinks that we may be missing out on something."

Janeway made a soft sound. Seven identified it immediately as disgust, and thought she might have edited what B'Elanna had said a little more.

"Maybe B'Elanna is the one missing out on something," the captain told her. "How are she and Chakotay getting along?"

Seven considered the new relationship between Voyager's first officer and the chief of engineering. "They appear reasonably compatible," Seven said slowly. "Why?"

"It just seems to me that B'Elanna should occupy herself more with her own relationship and less with ours," Janeway said, with a definite touch of annoyance in her tone.

Seven hesitated. "Does it bother you that I speak with B'Elanna about these things?" she asked. "I will not confide in her any longer if it does."

There was a pause, then Janeway sighed. "No, darling," she said, hugging her closer. "I'm sorry. It's possible that I'm just a little jealous that you have someone to talk about your love life with, and I don't."

Seven rested her cheek against the smooth skin of Janeway's upper chest, the slow throb of her heart a soothing rhythm in her ear. She realized that as captain, Kathryn was forced to maintain a certain distance between herself and everyone else, including Seven, during rare occasions of crisis or during missions. It made her sad to know how isolated Janeway had to be.

"You can talk to me," Seven offered quietly, even as she knew it was not enough.

There were things that she spoke with B'Elanna about that she did not with Kathryn, not because she didn't have absolute trust in her partner, but because....well, because it was just a different sort of relationship with B'Elanna, more playful and less intense. B'Elanna could insult her, and Seven would merely return the insult immediately. If Kathryn insulted her ... Seven paused as she tried to remember if Kathryn had ever called her an insulting term and could not. If the captain ever did, however, Seven was sure she would be completely devastated. There were also a great many things that Seven knew she was just too inexperienced to discuss with Kathryn about in a knowledgeable fashion.

"Perhaps you can speak with Tuvok," she suggested.

Janeway laughed. "About love, romance and sex?"

Seven thought about that. The Vulcan security chief had very little enthusiasm for human foibles and even less for emotional ones. "With whom did you talk to previously about these things?" she asked.

"Phoebe," Kathryn replied, referring to her younger sister left behind in the Alpha Quadrant. "My friend, Susan." She paused and chuckled. "To be honest, I never really talked about sex much until I met you. You've actually taught me to be more...uh, interested in the subject intellectually."

Seven considered that as she rubbed her cheek lightly against Kathryn's chest, feeling the soft skin slip gentle against her own. She could smell a pleasant scent wafting from the body close to hers, of soap and spice, of the faint musky tang of a woman who was partially aroused.

"What was it like?" Seven asked, idly stroking Kathryn's stomach in slow circles. "Being with men, I mean?"

"Oh, dear," Janeway said, and paused, clearly attempting to organize her thoughts.

Seven realized from the intonation that she had just opened up another topic which would take considerable time to discuss, and frankly, there were a great many other things she would rather be doing. She rose up and kissed Kathryn abruptly, forestalling what she had been about to say.

"Never mind," Seven murmured against the soft lips. "I do not care."

"Ah," Kathryn responded. "I gather we have completed our talk?"

"We are not done making sounds," Seven informed her. "However, I do not believe it will be a coherent conversation."

Janeway smiled and pulled Seven close, nibbling at the full bottom lip.

"My favorite kind," she mumbled.

Janeway frowned as she studied the data on her screen. She was deeply involved in the schematics of a new shuttle Paris was proposing to build, and it was only after she had taken a large gulp from the dregs of coffee in the bottom of her lucky cup that she realized the brew had grown cold and bitter. Grimacing, she stood up, stifling a groan as she felt the stiffness in her neck. She had been at her desk too long, she decided, going up the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of her ready room. On a low table, there was a tray from which she picked up a thermos, tipping it to refill her cup only to have a few trickles dribble out.

She stifled a sigh and carried her cup over to the replicator. She much preferred the thermos of coffee Seven sent her off with each morning, but unfortunately, the captain had a habit of finishing it quickly whenever she was working hard. The replicated version never quite measured up to the rich flavor the Borg managed to brew, but it was considerably better than the noxious liquid Neelix, the Talaxian ship's cook, came up with. The replicator dissolved the leftover remains in the cup, and rematerialized a steaming batch, filling the porcelain container to its brim. She sipped at it as she went over to the chair and sat down, allowing herself a small break before she returned to the reports requiring her input.

She found herself leaning back against the cushions, staring pensively at the stars, distorted by the ship's warp field, which seemed to streak by just outside the huge, plexiglass windows which loomed over her. Her mind kept straying to the previous day, to the argument Seven and she had regarding the Borg's habit of rearranging the furniture in her never ending quest to achieve the 'perfect' living space. A silly argument really, one Janeway admittedly started herself when she barked her shins on the coffee table which was no longer in the position it had been the previous three months, spurred on primarily by a day of filling out tedious personnel reports, and an encounter with a contrary relay conduit which had fouled up certain of the bridge functions. However, once Seven picked up a small plate, threatening to toss it at her, the argument had jumped considerably in intensity, and Janeway had taken the opportunity to unload all her aggravation out onto her partner, inciting the young woman to fling it at the captain.

Janeway still felt terrible about 'accidentally' bumping into the end table as she tried to dodge the plate, knowing full well that Seven had no intention of actually hitting her, and that if she had just stood still, the plate would have missed by a good two feet. Not only did she succeed in positioning herself directly into the path of the missile, which raised a minor welt on her arm and absolutely devastated Seven, she had also managed to knock over two of Seven's favorite statues which shattered impressively when they hit the deck, ugly little knickknacks that Janeway had never liked, and was rather pleased to see gone.

It occurred to her that it was not fair to indulge in arguments with Seven because the younger, more inexperienced ex-Borg was at a decided disadvantage when it came to such things. Janeway knew exactly what buttons to push, to not only get the woman's dander up, but also to make her feel honestly bad. Seven froze immediately the instant the plate impacted with Janeway's bicep, a look of such remorse coming over her face that it stabbed directly into the captain's heart. Janeway had felt even worse when Seven  tried exceptionally hard to be accommodating the rest of the evening, attempting to make up for inadvertently hitting her.

Seven of Nine is not like other people, she told herself. Not even when one excludes that remarkable mind and forthright attitude.

Seven had grown up in the cold, sterile Borg Collective, existing without love, without emotion of any sort from the time she had been assimilated as a six-year-old. Annika Hansen had spent eighteen years as a drone before Captain Janeway had her link to the Collective severed and in truth, it was amazing that Seven had adapted so well to her returning Humanity. For Janeway to treat her as she would anyone with a normal upbringing, to treat her as she had treated her previous lovers, was simply not going to work. Nor was it helping matters that Voyager's chief engineer was gleefully filling Seven's head with all sorts of ideas that created more confusion than clarity.

The problem, Janeway considered thoughtfully, was that Seven was unpredictable at the best of times, but Janeway persisted on trying to predict her behavior anyway. . . and became annoyed when the young woman reacted differently than the captain assumed she would. Since Janeway had no way of truly understanding all Seven had been through, had no concept of what being raised as a Borg drone really meant, it was impossible to apply Human standards to her.

Janeway shook her head. She just had to stop, she thought. She had to accept Seven for what she was, and quit trying to fit her into the round Starfleet hole the very angular young woman simply would not be forced into.

There was a chime at her door, and she dragged her thoughts back to the here and now, leaning forward to place her cup on the glass-covered coffee table.

"Come in," she said, looking inquiringly at the door.

Lt. Commander Tuvok, her chief of security, entered the room. Tall, slender with dark skin and elegantly pointed ears, the impassive Vulcan was the person on Voyager whom Janeway had known the longest, and in some ways, knew the best. He was a devoted family man, having left behind a wife, children and, according to a letter that reached them via an alien communications relay, was also now a grandfather. Tuvok had served with her even before she had assumed command of this Intrepid-class vessel, and he tended to know her moods better than anyone.

He raised an eyebrow as he saw her curled up in the chair. "Am I interrupting, Captain?" he asked politely.

"Not at all, Tuvok," she said, genuinely pleased to see him. She motioned to the couch. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"I have no need of refreshment," he said, sitting gingerly on the couch. She knew he preferred to stand, but over the years, he had adapted to her more casual manner.

Am I really that arrogant? she thought with a bit of dismay. Do I really force the people around me to adopt my ways rather than allowing for what they might want or need?

All the time, Katie, her internal voice noted snidely. You say it like it's a bad thing.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, vowing to take a harder look at how she dealt with others sometime in the near future. She fixed her gaze on him, and granted him her full attention.

"I wanted to discuss the situation with Neelix with you," he said. He offered her a padd. "Since the restoration of the replicators, he has discovered that he has a great deal of free time on his hands, time he had previously spent on preparing meals for one hundred and fifty people. As a result, he has applied to join one of my security details."

"I see," Janeway said, perusing the data on the small padd he had given her, and trying very hard not to smile.

The Talaxian was a civilian they had taken on as a guide when first lost in the Delta Quadrant. Though they had long since left the area of space he was familiar with, he had remained on board, continuing to act as their cook and all round trouble-shooter. Considering that the Federation ship was a distinct improvement over the squalid living conditions they had discovered him in, it was not surprising that he wanted desperately to stay with Voyager. With his original roles no longer considered as vital to the ship, his quick adaptation by applying to work in another area was a clear indication of just how much he was determined to remain a productive member of her crew.

However, the Delta Quadrant native's breezy manner and outgoing personality was a direct contrast to the controlled, emotionless Tuvok, and despite the Talaxian's best efforts to ingratiate himself with the Vulcan, Tuvok continued to find dealing with the little alien an ongoing irritation. To have him in security would be a trying experience for Tuvok, though Janeway thought it might be good for Neelix.

"Do you have an objection to his capabilities?" she asked, swallowing her amusement as best she could. "Surely you can have him guard the holodeck or something?"

He eyed her gravely, and she knew he was aware that she was not being properly serious about this.

"I am cognizant of the fact that Starfleet tends to regard security as the perfect place to transfer all those who cannot find success in other areas," he said dryly. "Even though a good security officer requires both intelligence and extensive training."

"You think I'm dumping Neelix on you?" she said, leaning back in her chair and regarding her old friend fondly. "I assure you, Tuvok, I didn't know he was going to apply to your department." She managed that with a completely straight face, but innate honesty compelled her to add a qualifying addendum. "He did ask me where the ship was most lacking personnel so of course, I mentioned that you could always use more people in Security."

"In truth," Tuvok pointed out. "There are many areas on the ship which have greater need of personnel. Sickbay, for example. Or astrophysics. Not to mention the captain's own need for a 'cabin boy'."

Janeway gave a startled bark of laughter. "A 'cabin boy'?" she objected. "Really, Tuvok."

"That is the common usage," he responded, unperturbedly. "I believe the official designation is 'Command Candidate'."

"You want me to take Neelix on as a command candidate?" She stared at him, knowing full well he had to be putting her on, yet unable to penetrate the Vulcan impassiveness.

"They often function as a go-between, messengers, valets, assistants and as ship's maintenance personnel even as they benefit from the teaching and training of an experienced Starfleet captain," he noted. "Tasks that Neelix is imminently suited for."

Janeway smiled widely, wagging her finger at him. "I am well aware that a great many captains use their command candidates as personal servants, making them gophers and forcing them to clean their quarters and the like," she told him. "I was never one of them, however. I always train my candidates with the intention that they leave with competent command skills, and frankly Tuvok, I don't think Neelix is the sort that is cut out to be a Starfleet captain."

"It was merely a suggestion, Captain," Tuvok remarked evenly. "However, if you wish, I shall not pass the idea on to Neelix."

She knew a threat when she heard one. "All right, Tuvok," she said, the corner of her mouth curled in a half-grin of surrender. "If you honestly feel he doesn't belong in Security, I'll try to find a place for him elsewhere."

"Thank you, Captain," he said.

A minor jolt, which mildly rattled the teacups on the tray, catapulted both of them out of their seats. The streaking stars outside the windows had stilled, and Janeway knew that for whatever reason, her ship had just dropped out of warp. She was already down the stairs, Tuvok at her heels when her comm badge chirped.

"Captain to the bridge." came the urgent voice of her first officer, Chakotay, even as the dimming lights and the unmistakable whoop of red alert chilled her blood. She dashed through the ready room doors and took the stairs leading up to the main level of the bridge in one leap, eyes drawn unerringly to the fore viewscreen.

All the blood drained from her face and she felt decidedly faint as she saw what was displayed there, checking her stride as she groped for the rail to support her suddenly weak knees.

A Borg cube blocked out a good portion of the screen's constant view of the stars and from the speakers came the unmistakable sound of the Collective's voice echoing through the communication system, overriding any attempt to block it out.

"We Are The Borg. Resistance Is Futile."

Seven of Nine had been in engineering, talking with B'Elanna when the ship abruptly dropped out of warp. Immediately, they broke off their conversation and accessed the nearest consoles, the Klingon biting off a curse as she saw what was happening. Her fingers danced over the board as she diverted power from non-essential systems to bolster the shields and propulsion units.

Seven experienced an odd sensation when she saw the cube displayed on the console's tiny viewscreen. Her initial emotion was an odd sort of joy, of familiarity and the comforting sense of home. Then, fear and apprehension overrode that the very next second as she realized what this meant, and what would probably happen next.

"Adjusting shields," she said.

She keyed in instructions as quickly as she was able, setting up a rotating modulation on the force fields surrounding the ship to prevent the drones from beaming in. That was only a temporary solution, she knew. As competent as she was, the Collective would quickly override her encryption algorithms, and force a hole open through the shields to board the vessel, but it was possible any delay could help Voyager come up with a way to ... what?

Escape? The jolt and sudden deceleration meant they were already snagged by a Borg tractor beam.

An ensign scurrying by, dropped a phaser rifle on her console and moved on. Seven picked it up with her left hand, dizzy suddenly as she realized she was preparing to fight the Borg, knowing she had only a few shots before the personal shields would adapt to the phaser fire, becoming invulnerable to their attack.

She raised her eyes to meet B'Elanna's, the young raven-haired woman's gaze dark with some unfathomable emotion. Seven was disturbed by it, dropping her eyes back to the console.

"I do not know how long I can keep them from beaming over," Seven said, continuing to key in data as she cradled the rifle under her arm.

"I know," B'Elanna said and her voice was odd, angry yet gentle at the same time. She touched her comm badge. "Engineering to the Bridge."

"Bridge here," came Janeway's beloved tone and Seven felt her heart spasm in her chest, gripping the weapon tighter with fingers that seemed slippery with moisture.

Was this sweat? The analytical part of her brain noted this with a certain amount of interest. She had not realized that her physical return to the Human norm had progressed that far though apparently it had. It seemed a rather inconvenient time to occur however, considering it was highly likely that she would be assimilated shortly, and would not get the chance to experience it to its full extent. There were a lot of things she would miss about being Human she thought, then realized that as a drone, she would miss nothing. She would simply exist.

"Captain, Seven has set up a modulating frequency on the shields to prevent the Borg from beaming on, but I don't know how long that will last, and neither does she. I'm channeling all available power to shields and propulsion. We're ready to go to warp on your mark."

There was a hum, and suddenly forms began to materialize around them.

"Intruder alert!" B'Elanna yelped, flipping up her rifle and shooting the nearest Borg in the chest.

Seven raised her rifle, and fired at the one behind him, then at another, sending them crashing to the deck. She was aware of the screams around her, and the thin whine of phasers set at maximum, impacting the Borg. Then, the sound altered to a hissing ting as the energy beams began to impact the adapted Borg force fields, shedding the weapon's fire as if it were water off a duck's back. From the corner of her eye, Seven saw B'Elanna reverse the rifle and use it as a club, smashing down the Borg that reached for her even as another grabbed her from behind.

Then a Borg was standing before Seven, the phaser fire having no effect as it washed over his shield, and she was forced to fling the rifle at him, pleased when it knocked him down, before turning to run. Hands grabbed at her, and she cried out angrily, fighting them furiously when suddenly there was a voice coming from everywhere around her. A familiar voice, but wrongly placed.

This was not normal and she hesitated in her attempts to free herself.

"Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01," the feminine and oddly singular voice said. "Return to us willingly and we will allow these small ones to continue their journey."

"You will not assimilate them if I go with you?" Seven asked, not knowing what was happening but willing to seize any opportunity to save her friends, to save Kathryn.

"We will not assimilate them. We will allow them to go on untouched," the voice repeated.

Seven stopped resisting.

"I will return with you," she said.

"No, Seven, god no," B'Elanna howled, reaching for her though she was restrained by the Borg drone gripping her. "Don't do this. We'll fight them."

Her face was the last thing Seven saw before the transporter took her and the rest of the Borg away, the clean blue and silver structure of Voyager's main engineering department disappearing to be replaced by the dark, angular green construction of the Borg cube.

Janeway picked herself up off the deck where a drone had forced her face down on the carpet. Its sudden disappearance, along with all the rest of the Borg who had invaded her bridge, left her shaky and uncertain as she staggered to her chair.

"Report!" she snapped, accessing her console.

"The Borg vessel is moving off," Lt. Harry Kim said, voice trembling as he worked his operations post at the rear of the ship. His short hair was mussed, falling over his forehead into his dark eyes, and there was a small cut on his chin.

"No reports of casualties," Tuvok said and it was evident how much the intrusion had shaken him from the distinct note of surprise in his voice. "They did not attempt to assimilate anyone."

"Torres to Bridge. Captain, they took Seven."

The words Janeway had heard came back to her, the offer which she did not entirely comprehend at the time, the eerie feminine voice issuing from every Borg mouth like something out of a horror holo-program, a one-sided conversation that apparently Seven had responded to down in engineering.

"Lay in a pursuit course," the captain demanded.

The great respect she inspired in her crew made Lt. Tom Paris, the fair-haired helmsman barely hesitate as he keyed in the coordinates at her order. "Aye, Captain," he said. "Preparing for warp."

"Warp nine," she snapped.

"Warp nine, aye," he repeated.

"Captain, can I speak to you in your ready room?" Chakotay said urgently in a low voice. "Now."

She lowered her head, frowning mightily, then got smoothly to her feet, not looking back to see if her first officer was following her as she headed for her ready room. "Tuvok, you have the bridge," she snapped. "Don't let that cube get away."

She turned to look at Chakotay when they got in the ready room, hands on her hips, nostrils flaring as she glared at him. "Say it."

"Do I have to, Kathryn?" he responded, holding a hand out in a calming motion. "This is the Borg you're going after. We don't stand a chance and you know it."

"They have Seven," she said, her voice at its lowest, most dangerous register.

"Yes, exactly what they came for," he said quietly. "We can only count our lucky stars they were satisfied with that."

"I'm going to get her back," she said, eyes snapping with furious sparks.

"You can't."

His words seemed to echo in the room, his dark eyes pinning hers without wavering though the strong handsome face was full of compassion. "Kathryn, we can't go up against a Borg cube," he said, and there was a note of pleading in his voice. "For whatever reason, they were willing to let us go so that Seven would return to them."

She didn't answer and he rubbed the tattoo over his left eye with his thumb, a nervous gesture he used only in extreme situations. He moved closer and looked down at her, radiating sincerity.

"Kathryn, we've got nothing that can hurt them, nothing that can scare them, and nothing to bargain with," he said intently. "Not this time. We try to get Seven back and we'll end up assimilated. Every single one of us that isn't killed in the attempt. You know this. And you know that you can't risk the entire ship for the sake of one crewmember no matter what your personal feelings are for her. You just can't."

It was her gaze that fell first, her that turned away, hands dropping to ball into fists as she bent her head. "I can't just let them take her," she said, and her voice was harsh, despairing.

"She sacrificed herself for us, Kathryn," he said softly. "The most Human thing she could ever do. Are you going to make that sacrifice be in vain?"

Janeway stared at the floor, shuddering as she drew breath, one after another. Then, with a hand that trembled, she touched her comm badge. "Lt. Paris," she said. "Belay your last order. Resume course to the Alpha Quadrant."

"Captain?" The Voyager helmsman's voice was clearly shocked.

"You have your orders," she said, tone hardening.

"Yes, Ma'am," was the uncertain response.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," Chakotay said quietly. Then without saying anything further, he turned and left, not wanting to make this any more difficult than it already was, undoubtedly aware that she hated him completely at the moment.

Janeway remained where she stood, her mind conceiving plan after plan, trying desperately to come up with something, anything that could successfully retrieve a single drone away from the Collective.

A single drone that shouldn't have been so important that the Collective would track it down, and actually negotiate to get it back.

Her head raised, eyes sparking and without hesitation, she removed the pips from her collar, one after another until all four of them lay in her palm. She spared them a single, intent glance, then laid them gently on the desk before touching her comm badge once more.

"Hangar, prepare the Mississippi for immediate departure," she said, giving her final order as captain of the starship Voyager. "Full attack mission mode."

Then she left the ready room without looking back.

Seven was escorted through the Borg vessel, four drones acting as guards striding with her. This was very odd, she thought. She should have been assimilated by now, and truth be told, since it would be a re-assimilation, the chances were that she would immediately revert and be a useful drone within seconds rather than the minutes, and even hours in some cases, required for most new drones. Yet, not one Borg had made any motion to go near her with their assimilation tubules. There was clearly something very unusual going on here.

She inhaled the warm, humid air that was characteristic of the Borg environment, flavored liberally with a heavy metallic overtone, of petroleum-carbonates, and the unique muskiness of the drones themselves. It had never been an issue with her during her first stint with them. Now, it made her nose wrinkle and her eyes water. She was keenly aware of her apprehension, of her fear as to her fate, and the deep sorrow that permeated every part of her. She would never see Voyager and her friends again. She would never see Kathryn again.

She recognized a emotion that she identified as misery. She had experienced it to a lesser extent when she had been stranded in the Alpha Quadrant, but it had been tempered by the conviction that she was working to return to Voyager along with B'Elanna and Chakotay. She held no such conviction here, and even the knowledge that Kathryn and the rest had escaped could not entirely cushion the sharp pain in her heart, or the leaden lump of agony which had settled deep within her.

She knew she would never again hold Kathryn in her arms, never hear the warm tones of love lace the throaty voice. Never taste the wonderful flavor of her mouth or smell the delicate fragrance of her. Worst of all, she would not remember any of those sensations that seemed so vital to her now, have no connection to all the feelings and emotions that she had experienced over the last year and a half.

It was not just the atmosphere that was making her eyes moist, and she knew that tears trickled a steady stream down her face, but she did not try to restrain them, did not attempt to control her feelings of loss and hurt because she knew, once assimilated, she would feel absolutely nothing. Her emotion for Kathryn, her love for her, and the warm knowledge of being loved by her would be analyzed and removed by the Collective, sliced away as if by a scalpel as being unnecessary, as being inefficient. Once assimilated, she might not even remember Kathryn at all, and certainly if she did, it would be without any emotional resonance whatsoever.

These brief moments were all she had left to feel her love for Kathryn. Her final chance to remember how it felt to look into her face, to gaze into her remarkable eyes, to imagine her presence close to her, her arms encircling her one final time. To realize what it meant to be without her and to mourn that loss with a profound and utter regret.

She lifted her head as they guided her into a larger area, an unfamiliar place that she had no previous knowledge of. It was even more humid and the air was thick, practically visible, colored with a greenish hue that made Seven feel like she was under water, something she had experienced only a week before when Kathryn had decided to teach her to swim. Seven's head had dunked under the surface of the pool and for a brief moment, she had opened her eyes to see a very similar vision, of Kathryn's compact body near hers distorted by the water before the captain had lifted her back up to the cool, life-giving air.

The form walking toward her was definitely not the beloved one of her partner, but it was familiar. Only, however, in the sense that Seven recognized it, and was considerably surprised to do so. It was her understanding that the Borg Queen had been destroyed in a failed temporal incursion against Earth, killed by Commander Data and Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Enterprise.

Seven blinked furiously to clear her vision as the slender figure stopped before her. Standing a head shorter than she, comparable to Kathryn's height, the female was garbed in black from her cleavage down. Seven was aware that in truth, the head, shoulders and upper chest were the only organic parts remaining of this Borg. The rest was purely cybernetic. Together, they gave the appearance of a leather-clad individual with a hairless scalp and glittering eyes that missed little as they raked the young woman with a glance that seemed to dissect her to her component parts.

"Seven of Nine," the sibilant voice said, the tone sliding around Seven with warm familiarity. "We are so happy to see you returned to us. So glad to see you come ... home."

Seven considered several answers, discarded them, finally settling on; "This is not my home."

"You wound us," the Queen said, and to Seven's surprise, her expression actually did look hurt.

Seven had always been aware of this being's presence when she had been a part of the Collective, though rarely did the Queen contact any of her drones directly. Her voice was not one of the multitude that Seven had lived with constantly, yet her mental touch was threaded throughout the entire Collective at all times. In a horrible moment, a few years earlier, that presence had abruptly vanished and for three hours, the Collective consciousness was shattered, the link severed. Seven had been in a panic as had most of her brethren around her, but before they could damage themselves, the Collective was restored, though the presence had not returned with it.

There was a mystery here. Intrigued, Seven regarded the female closely.

"The Queen was destroyed," she said. "You cannot be her."

The being smiled, almost maternally. "Deductive reasoning," she complimented. "Your time with the Federation Humans has not been wasted."

"Explain," Seven demanded.

"In time," the being said, walking away from her though, from her motion, Seven had the distinct impression she was to follow.

The drones, who had escorted her here, did not accompany the young woman as she followed the Borg Queen deeper into the chamber. Seven studied the room around her, analyzing the walls and devices scattered about. There was a heavy mist covering the deck, and her legs from the knee down were invisible. Sound was muted here as well, the hum of the transwarp drive at station-keeping beating like the slow throb of a heart. She could barely hear the voices that she knew were here all around her, mere whispers that slid along the edges of her consciousness, but she suspected they would become clear soon enough. Her eyes followed the cables running along the walls to vanish in the upper reaches of a ceiling, concealed by more mist and the dim illumination that cast a greenish tint over everything, even her own skin which, though considered pale on Voyager, was positively flush compared to the dead white flesh of the Borg.

The Queen led her into a smaller chamber. There was a table of sorts in the middle, a broad console studded with controls and viewscreens along with two chairs, one an immense throne-like apparatus that the Queen settled into. A flick of her eyes indicated that Seven was to sit in the other, a smaller affair which was directly across the table from her. Bemused, Seven did so, sitting down gingerly while she regarded the female as she would some form of poisonous, sleek and deadly reptile. For long moments, they stared at each other in the thick atmosphere.

"Why have you brought me here?" Seven asked, finally unable to bear the silent scrutiny any longer.

The Queen smiled faintly which gave Seven a chill. Everything was wrong here. Or at least, not what she was used to. In its own way, it was more unfamiliar than Voyager had ever been to her.

"We have observed you for a long time, Seven of Nine," the Queen said. "From the moment you came to us. Such a defiant being, even when so young, fiercely independent, a unique individual."

"I was unaware those were traits the Borg appreciated," Seven said, unable to keep sarcasm from lacing her tone. "They were removed quickly enough."

"On the contrary," the Queen said. "They were preserved, nurtured within a drone which rose swiftly from Three of Twelve Hundred to become the Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01. How else could you have survived so well away from us? Your destiny has always been a special one, Annika of Humans. One of greatness and potential. You were never just another drone in a collective of drones. You were always marked for our purpose."

"And that would be?" Seven asked, fascinated in spite of herself.

"To replace us."

Seven stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

The Queen's eyes widened with delight. "Politeness," she said, a tone of satisfaction in her voice. "They have such interesting qualities, these Federation beings. Nobility, self-sacrifice, instinctive brilliance. Qualities we lack, but need to add to our distinctiveness in order to take the Federation. Locutus was our first taste of it. We require more. Now you have returned, having learned all of them."

"I do not understand," Seven said.

The Queen nodded. "We know," she said, "but you shall." She bent her head slightly as she gazed at Seven possessively. "It was such a blow when you were taken from us," she said, almost to herself. "When we assimilated the small one, and discovered you lived, that you had not been destroyed by Captain Janeway, but instead, captured and assimilated by her, it was a source of great satisfaction to us."

Seven thought furiously. The 'small one' must be referring to Arturis, the alien who had attempted to deceive Voyager's crew into thinking that Starfleet had sent them a starship utilizing a new slip-stream technology which would return them home. Instead, it was actually a ploy designed to take them to his planet which had been assimilated by the Borg. The alien had blamed Janeway for that catastrophe, citing her interference in the Borg/Species 8472 war. Kathryn and Seven had been captured by Arturis, but managed to escape just before the vessel entered Borg space. He had remained behind by his own choice.

Seven glanced around the room once more, frowning as something nagged at her. Then, suddenly, she realized what it was. She pinned the Queen with a baleful glare.

"You are a hologram."

The Queen actually smiled, obviously pleased at her powers of deduction.

"Yes," she said. "A back-up program activated when our original form was destroyed by the Federation individuals. We were able to restore the Collective, rebuild the links, but it is imperfect. We are unable to maintain the same control, unable to leave this chamber, unable to share in the greatness that is Borg. It is insufficient. Our true guidance must be restored."

She stood up suddenly and moved around the table, standing next to Seven. She reached down and took the young woman's chin between a gloved forefinger and thumb.

"You shall restore it," she told her, and there was a sensual quality to her voice suddenly, in the way she looked at Seven.

Her expression was very similar to Kathryn's when the captain had just accomplished something significant, something that gave her a great deal of personal pleasure. However, it did not generate the same sort of warm sensation in Seven. Instead, she felt a distinct chill rocket through her at the female's words, a profound revulsion at the touch on her flesh, but she tried hard not to show it.

"How?" she said flatly.

The Queen blinked.

"For years you have been nurtured as one of our replacements," she said, as if it should be obvious. "Now, with the added knowledge and experience you have gained from your time with the Federation, you are ready to seize your destiny. Once a mere Human child, you will be the greatest power the universe has ever known."

She smiled and her eyes glittered in the muted light.

"You shall be our new Queen."

"You can't do this."

Janeway moved around the bulk of Chakotay who was standing in her way, and continued toward the runabout, sitting ready and waiting in the center of Voyager's bay.

"I'm becoming a little tired of you telling me what I can't do," she said coldly as she hefted the bag over her shoulder. She frowned as she saw B'Elanna and Tuvok standing next to the small vessel. The Klingon had her arms crossed over her chest, jaw jutting out stubbornly. "I don't have time for this," she added in an aggrieved mutter.

"Captain," Chakotay tried again. "You ca---this isn't wise."

She ignored his solid, muscular form falling into step next to her as she strode across the cavernous hangar, her boots thudding mutely on the polished deck. She had changed from her Starfleet uniform, and was wearing a black outfit, a dark tunic over a black sweater with heavy trousers tucked into combat boots. Under her other arm, she carried a high intensity phaser rifle. From the corner of her eye, she saw the ship's medical personal, the Doctor and Sek, scurrying quickly in an effort to intercept her path. From another door, the lieutenants Kim and Paris along with Neelix, dashed across the hangar, trying to make it to the runabout before she did.

This is getting ridiculous, she thought. Who's minding the Bridge?

"Look," she snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to Chakotay. "It's your ship now. I've officially resigned and I'm going after Seven. You're not going to stop me, you're only delaying me and every second that passes means she's a little further away. I'm not going to tell you again. Get out of my way." She swept the assembled group with a furious glance.

"Who's stopping you?" B'Elanna said, eyes narrowing. "I'm going with you."

Janeway hesitated, then favored the feisty young woman with a wan smile. "No, B'Elanna," she said, her tone softer but still firm. "If there was one thing that your unexpected trip to the Alpha Quadrant taught us, it's that you're the last person Voyager can afford to lose."

"What about you?" Harry Kim said, looking as if he was ready to burst into tears. "You're the Captain."

"Not any more," she said shortly, and flung her bag through the open runabout door.

"You'll need a physician," the Doctor said. The spare, sparse frame of the Emergency Medical Hologram frowned at her, his bald scalp gleaming in the fluorescent brightness of the hangar lights. "Assuming Seven has been re-assimilated, I'll be needed to remove the implants."

"The ship can't afford to lose you either," Janeway told him, warmed by the willingness of these beings to put their existence on the line for her and her lover, even as she chafed at the delay it was causing.

"Then allow me to accompany you," Sek interrupted in her lyrical voice. "I have medical knowledge, and I'm far more expendable than anyone else."

Blue-eyed with shaggy blonde hair, the living hologram was gazing at Janeway with all the concerned compassion of the woman her matrix's personality programming had been based on. The captain might have actually taken Kes along, her psychic abilities extremely useful for this sort of thing, but Sek did not share those. Janeway shook her head.

"Sorry," she said as she brushed past them to the runabout ramp. "This is my show."

"You'll need the best pilot to get you in and out, Captain," Paris said, reaching out to snag her arm. He released it immediately as she seared his hand with an annoyed glance.

"No," she said flatly. She strode briskly up the ramp, then paused at the top, taking a final look back at her command crew who were regarding her like children whose mother was leaving them for their first day at school. She wondered briefly where Tuvok had disappeared to, but didn't dare take the time to look for him. "I'll bring her back," she promised. "You won't even notice we've been gone."

Clearly, from their expressions, she had convinced none of them. Even Sek looked highly skeptical. Janeway wanted to explain, wanted them to understand why she had to do this, that she was not abandoning them, but she could not spare the precious seconds. She favored them with a last look, hesitating as she tried to find the right words of parting. Though her intention was to return triumphantly with her partner, she, better than anyone, knew how bad the odds were. The fact was, she just didn't care. She would get Seven back or die trying, and if it meant that she was assimilated in the process, well ... what was it Seven once said to her? They would understand each other perfectly then.

"Take care of yourselves," she said, and for just an instant, her voice broke. Her eyes met Chakotay's, boring into his dark eyes which were filled with dismay. "Get them home," she said quietly. "Captain."

She turned and disappeared into the runabout, sealing the hatch behind her. She cursed when she saw the slender form sitting in the co-pilot's seat.

"Godammit, Tuvok," she growled.

Tuvok's hands were moving over the board, not looking up as he initiated the pre-launch sequence. "You are delaying our departure," he said. "Please be seated."

"Tuvok, you can't come with me," she protested even as she sat.

"That is not your decision," he said, then looked at her, eyes meeting hers squarely. "Since you have resigned from Starfleet, you are no longer my superior officer, nor are you authorized to pilot this Starfleet vessel." He paused, looked away, adding in a less firm tone. "She is like my daughter, Kathryn. With the unlikely chance of our return to the Alpha Quadrant within the next year, I will be dead in any event. I would willingly die if it meant we could save her."

"What?" Janeway stared at him, not knowing what to be more startled by, his use of her first name which he had never done before, or his pronouncement. "What are you talking about?"

He looked away, back at the board. "My pon farr will occur within the year," he said, his voice extremely controlled as he spoke of this most personal and private aspect of Vulcan biology. "Separated by such a distance, without the benefit of the psychic bond we share, my wife and I will be unable to survive the mating. We will perish. At least this way, my death will mean something, and my wife will be able to adapt to the shock untempered by the pon farr fever."

"You could still be assimilated," Janeway said harshly, though very aware at how very open and vulnerable he was being with her. Her heart thought it would burst in her chest. She activated the launch sequence.

He raised a brow. "No," he told her. "My mental discipline is such that I will die rather than submit to assimilation. I will not become Borg."

Janeway caught her breath. "You can't know that," she said, staring out the fore viewport as the vessel lifted from the deck, but she ceased her objections as they flew through the large doors at the end of the hangar, plunging into the deep, star-studded darkness of space. She did not glance back at the silvery form falling steadily behind, keying the controls to activate the warp core. "Prepare for maximum warp."

"Warp factor five," he said as the vessel accelerated, the starfield taking on the shooting streaks of hyper-drive. "In the event that I am assimilated, then I am sure I shall find it a fascinating experience."

She looked at him, smiling faintly. His sense of humor, though he would deny to his last breath that he actually had one, was dry in the extreme. "Is there anything you know that might be useful?" she asked. "Without being assimilated?"

"You likely know more about the Borg than I do," he noted, raising an eyebrow as he glanced at her. He looked back at the helm, touching his board. "Sensors have detected the Borg warp signature. Compensating navigational system to follow. Scans indicate that we remain a day behind and since they have not yet activated the transwarp engine, it is possible that we may be able to catch them." He eyed her curiously. "I trust you have a plan in that event."

Janeway found herself studying her controls with acute interest.

"You do not have a plan, at all," he said flatly. If he had been Human, she would have sworn that there had been a touch of outrage in the tone.

"I'm sure I'll have something when the time comes," she told him.

"That is reassuring," he said in a way that indicated it was not at all.

"I didn't ask you to come," she snapped, then immediately reached over and patted his arm. "Sorry, Tuvok," she said in a softer tone. "I'm a little tense."

He did not acknowledge the apology, or the hand on his forearm but she knew he was aware of both of them. She sighed and took her hand away, making a minute course correction.

"Tuvok, there's no reason for the Collective to make a special trip to recover a drone," she said after a heavy pause, staring out at space with eyes that were a deep grey. "There's certainly no reason to negotiate with that drone for her to freely return in exchange for leaving the rest of us alone."

He considered that thoughtfully. "None that we know," he pointed out.

"I'm going to find out why," she said, and her voice was solid steel, an utterance of absolute determination. "Whatever the reason might be, it may allow us the opportunity to get her back."

"It should be an interesting investigation," Tuvok noted.

She glanced at him, and despite herself, she smiled.

Seven examined the female in front of her with interest. The hologram's skin gleamed as if covered with a layer of moisture, just as the real Queen's had. The excessive humidity had no purpose that she could see and she was curious about it. It occurred to her that, during her time as a drone, she had simply accepted her surroundings without question. She assumed she would lose the curiosity once she was assimilated. She was to be assimilated, wasn't she?

"Why are you telling me these things?" she asked. "Why did you agree to allow Voyager to journey on without assimilating them?"

The Queen dipped her head, a vague smile playing about the thin lips."For you to accept our mantle," she said. "It must be done freely."

"Why?" Seven asked, considerably surprised.

"To guide the Collective, to lead us, requires a certain freedom of mind, an independence," the Queen explained. "To be forced into the role would prevent its efficiency."

"That seems a contradiction in terms," Seven said. She was hungry now, lunch and dinner long having passed her by, but she was determined to ignore it. She sensed that Human frailties would not be looked on favorably, and for whatever reason, she thought she should stay on the hologram's good side, for as long as possible. "So that others must give up their freedom, the Queen must retain hers?"

"That is how it must be," the Queen said unhelpfully.

Seven shook her head. "The Captain is the least free of all," she lectured. "Her responsibilities do not allow her the freedom that the lowest rank of her crew has."

"Linear Human thinking," the Queen said easily, her voice weaving around Seven. "The Borg are more than that. Humans try to rule each other through loyalty or false structure. It is imperfect. The Queen is one of many, directing all as one. Harmony."

Seven considered that. Despite her life on Voyager and her relationship with Kathryn, there was very much a part of her that agreed with the Holo-Queen's words. The unity of the Borg, the purpose in which they acted, had always displayed a certain elegance, devoid of the petty conflicts that other species, Humans for example, insisted on indulging in. There was no disruption within the Collective, all operated as a single being. To be able to control it, direct it to benefit the unity, was a seductive lure.

"I have been existing as a Human," Seven said honestly. "With Human values. I would impose those values on the Collective. We would no longer assimilate species, we would attempt to study them, ally with them."

The Queen dipped her head graciously. "Of course,"she said. "If that is your decision as Queen, then that is what shall be."

Seven frowned. Even with her inexperience at dealing with duplicity, that was way too easy. There was something she was missing here.

"What if I do not wish to be Queen?" she said.

"Then you may be a drone," the Queen said without rancor. "To direct the Collective must be of your own volition. You would be controlled by it otherwise."

Seven took a breath. So that was her choice, was it? Drone or Queen. Follower or Leader. What would Kathryn say about this? That she was between a rock and a hard place. Were there any other options?

"I wish to return to Voyager," she tried, suspecting it was futile. "To continue my existence as a Human."

The Queen did not react beyond a slight narrowing of her eyes.

"That could be arranged," she allowed slowly.

Seven was astounded. "How?" she said, having to take a moment to find her voice after this pronouncement.

"We shall return you," the Queen said. "However, you should be aware, our other possible successors will not have these Human vulnerabilities, nor your fondness for the small beings. The Federation is the only group who has defeated us, not once, but twice. It was their intervention that enabled us to control Species 8472. The Collective needs to add them to our distinctiveness as soon as possible. How they are added is at the direction of the One of Many."

Seven realized what that meant. Even if she could return to Voyager, and the ship continued to be overlooked here in the Delta Quadrant, the next strike the Borg made would be against the Federation itself, a Federation made vulnerable by a war against the Dominion. Kathryn's mother and sister were in the Federation. It was Kathryn's home. If Seven were Queen, however, she could prevent that, and make sure any approach to the Federation would be beneficial to both.

What had Kathryn told her once, about having to sometimes accept the responsibility of command because there was no one else suitable to do it?  She tried to imagine what  Kathryn would do in her place.

"I accept your offer," she said, making her decision instantly. "I agree to act as the new Queen."

The Holo-Queen smiled. She moved closer to Seven and with gentle fingers, she lifted Seven's chin to bare her neck. From the back of her other hand, thin, silver tubules extended, writhing like worms as they reached out and entered Seven's flesh. In that last flash of cognizance of the individuality that was Annika Hansen, she realized that she had made a grave error in judgement. In the next instant, she became One of Many, the director of the Collective, billions of voices surrounding her, awaiting her bidding. However, she was also of the Collective. All emotion was stripped away, leaving nothing but pure intellect, unsullied by such weaknesses as mercy or compassion.

Or love.

Assimilating the Federation would be beneficial to both. The Borg would add their distinctiveness to their own. The Federation would be complete, no longer in conflict, a part of the greater whole, peaceful, organized, in perfect harmony.

A part of her.

She knew it to be good.

"I hadn't realized you were so fond of Seven," Janeway said, glancing at Tuvok from beneath lowered lids. "A 'daughter' I believe you said?"

If he realized she was trying to get a rise out of him, he did not, of course, make any indication of it. It was their third day in pursuit of the Borg cube, alternating odd shifts so that the other could get some sleep. Janeway had forgotten how Vulcans disdained unnecessary conversation, and to her surprise, she discovered she missed small talk.

But not nearly as much as she missed Seven.

Being without her was a steady ache inside Janeway, a brutal tear in the everyday fabric of her life where her partner should be. The young woman's absence nagged at her like a missing limb would plague an amputee, and the captain's clumsy attempts to sleep, the brief snatches of dozing between long periods of staring blankly at the ceiling, trying not to think of what her partner was going through in the hands of the Borg, were haunted by the most vivid dreams of Annika. Visions of the younger woman in her arms, her body against hers, or more cruelly, drifting away from her, leaving her alone and adrift. Janeway would wake abruptly, acutely aware of the empty spot next to her, of the warmth that no longer surrounded her, no longer within reach.

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Yes," he admitted. "I do not know why she had taken that role with me, but our relationship is very similar to that of myself and my daughter, prior to Asil's leaving for the Academy."

"I see," Janeway said with surprise.

Tuvok seemed to catch the astonishment. "Seven is very logical in her thought processes," he pointed out. "I often wonder if it is a mistake to insist she adapt to being Human. She would have a much easier time adopting a Vulcan way of existence."

Janeway considered that and shook her head.

"Somehow, I don't think she would have chosen that path if offered," she said, smiling faintly as she remembered Seven's wondrous joy at catching her first fish only weeks before this whole nightmare began.

"Perhaps," Tuvok allowed. "However, it is hard to know what one will choose if there are different options."

"True," Janeway allowed. She rested her chin on her forefinger and thumb, staring contemplatively out at the passing starfield. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had not taken this command. Do you remember the Explorer?"

"I do," Tuvok said. He had been her chief of security when she had been offered the command of the small science ship. She had refused, and instead, shortly thereafter, took command of Voyager, a completely different sort of ship altogether, an Intrepid-class vessel, fast, streamlined, built for action and adventure. "I have always been curious about that decision."

Janeway looked at him with a faint frown. "You have? You never asked," she said.

"I just did," he pointed out, not bothering to add that it had never come up before.

She nodded and looked thoughtful. "Do you know, Tuvok," she replied, "I couldn't tell you why I didn't take her. The Explorer should have been everything I wanted, a ship of science, a five year mission in the Heratha Sector studying the various phenomena and cultures there. Pure research. Even Mark could have come with me. He indicated that the cultures there would have been a goldmine for his career as a philosopher."

"Yet, you did not accept it," he noted.

She shrugged. "It just didn't ... feel right," she said, uncertainty in her voice as she remembered that time so many years ago. "I stood on that bridge and knew in my heart it wouldn't fit. Voyager, on the other hand, fit the second I put her on."

"An intriguing metaphor," he noted. "If wildly illogical."

She laughed, then. "Different paths, Tuvok," she said. "Who knows where the other would have led?"

"Not to a Borg cube, I would assume," he said.

"Probably not," Janeway said, sobering a little. "Any sign of it?"

"We are steadily gaining," he said. "For some reason, they have still not engaged their transwarp drive."

Janeway frowned. That bothered her a little as well, though she was thankful for it. Had the Borg activated their superior propulsion technology, leaving them light years behind, she would have no choice but to return to Voyager. She wondered if Tuvok had been secretly assuming such a result all along, that being left hopelessly behind in the dust was actually how this pursuit would end. She dismissed that thought as being unworthy of her friend.

"Do you think it's a trap?" she asked.

"The Borg are not known for indulging in such tactics," he responded. "However, they are also not known for negotiating for the return of a single drone either. We do not know enough about them for me to speculate."

"How soon before we're in range?" she asked.

"By this time tomorrow," he replied. He regarded her evenly. "I trust you have come up with a plan, Captain."

She took a breath.

"Working on it, Tuvok," she said quietly.

One of Many, formerly Seven of Nine, sat in her chair within the holo-chamber, utilizing it as her command central as per the Holo-Queen's request. The program continued to advise her, counseling her much as Chakotay did Janeway on Voyager though of course, One of Many controlled billions of beings, hundreds of worlds as opposed to a single ship. Or would command them, once the Holo-Queen was satisfied that One of Many was ready to assume the reins of her destiny completely. As it stood, One of Many controlled only the Cube's systems and certain of its drones in a limited capacity, while the program itself continued to direct the rest of the Borg Collective.

One of Many did not chafe at this, however. For one thing, she now had all the time in the Universe, free from such mortal frailties such as aging or illness. Provided she did not run into an android with a plasma leak or some other destructive force, she could anticipate living centuries, just as her predecessor had. Secondly, she was immersed with exploring the history of those centuries, and the time preceding them, fascinated by the beginnings of the Borg which had been lost in mystery to a mere drone before.

She suspected that had been the Queen's doing. It would not do for the drones to understand their true origins.

The Borgians had been a species very similar to Humans in their civilization, exploring and colonizing the surrounding systems of their home world. Then, like the Vidiians of the Delta Quadrant, they were struck down by a devastating genetic virus. Perhaps they too, would have chosen to mine the surrounding civilizations for organic body parts, but they were weak in comparison, not warriors, but rather a peaceful people known for their artistry and culture. Any attempt to attack their nearest neighbors, who were of a more aggressive nature, would have resulted in their immediate destruction. Instead, their scientists looked to cybernetic limbs to replace the organic flesh being destroyed by the virus.

The next great discovery was that two Borgians in a cybernetic link worked more efficiently than when they worked separately. It was a gradual process, one forced by the basic biological urge to survive that increased the use of cybernetics until the entire population was all part machine, including the children being born, the nanoprobes injected immediately after birth to control the virus.

Suddenly they discovered they were not the weaklings of the sector any longer. Along with life, the cybernetics gave them power, the ability to fight, to protect themselves from their closest neighbors who suddenly decided they didn't much like the idea of these machine people living so close. The Borgians won the war they had not started, and naturally, like many victors, assimilated the defeated species into their culture, adding them to the mental link that had become the most efficient way to communicate.

Then, the Queen arrived. A telepath of immeasurable power, a criminal who had preyed on the Borgian shipping lines, they chose to make her a part of them in an enlightened effort to educate rather than punish. Instead of assimilating her, however, it could be said that she assimilated them, influencing the single collective mind, perverting the original goal to survive into one of expansion, of controlling as much as possible. At the same time Earth was struggling to recover from World War III, the Borg made their first tentative step toward becoming the Scourge of the Universe, reaching out to assimilate the nearest species beyond their star system. More systems fell to them as they rapidly took over the entire sector, and what was once the need to find a way to defeat the virus which had long since disappeared, became a never-ending search for cybernetic perfection, the ultimate meld of organic and machine.

One of Many withdrew from the history lesson with many things to consider. It was possible, she allowed, that perfection was currently an impossible goal. How could the Many working as One ever achieve perfect harmony as long as they were controlled and guided by One of Many? It was a contradiction in concept. She knew for a fact that the Holo-Queen was flawed, imperfect, far too emotional ... just as the original Queen had been, which had ultimately been her downfall. Her desire for a consort had led to the loss of Locutus, her loneliness at being unique had led to her being deceived by Commander Data, her arrogance had led to her destruction at the hands of them both.

However, One of Many kept that speculation to herself. One of the advantages of being the Queen was, although all of the Borg mind was known to her, the billions of voices in her head a familiar and comforting constant, the Collective knew only what she wished to share. An efficient yet illogical system, she considered.

She sent a query to another of the vast data banks. She had decided, and the Holo-Queen had agreed, that before the Federation could be assimilated, the Dominion would have to be taken into consideration. The Borg were especially intrigued by the idea of the Great Link, the merging of the Changelings who, when separated from it, became individuals. Unlike the neural transceivers which united the Borg, this link was purely organic. Something like this, added to the Collective, would be of incredible value. The plan to take the Gamma Quadrant was already being put in place, the strategy to transwarp a force of Borg cubes into the heart of Dominion territory was being implemented. It could take years, maybe even as much as a century to complete their assimilation of the Dominion, but One of Many knew it would be successful.

Another query at the same time, went to the drones working on the Omega Project. As her previous incarnation on board Voyager, One of Many had witnessed Omega in all its perfection for a space of 3.2 seconds. Her memories of stabilizing the molecule spurred on the Borg who had been seeking the unlimited power source for over two centuries, making this project a priority.

A third query went to the engine room. The Holo-Queen was delaying their return to Borg space in order for One of Many to fully adapt to her new role, traveling at traditional warp speeds rather than engaging the transwarp drive. One of Many was taking the opportunity to see if the slip-stream technology gained from assimilating Species 116 would improve the drive if merged with what they already had. The slip-stream technology was elegant, and the knowledge she had received regarding it the second she had joined the Collective had been a revelation. It was the key to Species 116 remaining un-assimilated for as long as they had, and she found it a more efficient system than the traditional transwarp drive.

A piece of data attracted her interest and she observed a small vessel which approached her vessel from an aft course, sliding in through their shields utilizing the rotating pulsation method, entering the main plasma exhaust vent. She identified it immediately as the runabout Mississippi, and with a faint interest prodding her actions, she canceled the exhaust cycle which was scheduled within the next few seconds, setting it back an hour rather than have it vaporize the small ship.

"We have visitors." The Holo-Queen suddenly appeared next to the chair, looking down at the table in which a small viewscreen was imbedded, displaying the small vessel flying through the huge channel, seeking a place to land. Her voice came instantly into One's mind, weaving around it just as any other voice would but she realized it was without substance, without any sort of presence behind it. The imperfection of a badly designed computer program, she noted impassively.

"Bring them here." One of Many instructed.

"Once assimilated?" was the returning query.

"No, before assimilation," One of Many demanded. "We wish to speak with them."

"Is that wise?" The Holo-Queen sent a private inquiry on a tight line, outside the Collective.

"It is our will."

While they waited for the inevitable capture and arrival of the ship's inhabitants, One of Many continued to direct the new slip-stream drive installation, and the plan for invading the Gamma Quadrant. When the two Mississippi crewmembers were finally brought into the room, One of Many's interest was piqued enough to cease her activities, focusing fully on the intruders. Focused fully on Captain Kathryn Janeway and her chief of security, Tuvok.

As plans went, this was an unmitigated disaster, Janeway thought dismally as she and Tuvok were hauled through the never-ending corridors of the Borg cube. It had started out all right. Adjusting the pulse of their shields allowed them to slip through the Borg's force field undetected, and a convenient plasma vent gaped attractively nearby. They had taken a risk flying into it, but there was no expulsion of plasma, and they were able to enter the cube itself through a smaller conduit and put down the Mississippi on a landing pad of sorts. That's when things went wrong.

Theoretically, it was possible to walk unmolested through a Borg cube as long as they were not perceived as a threat. It was a method used not only by Voyager's crew on previous occasions, but also by other Starfleet officers in the Alpha Quadrant. By walking calmly and quietly among the drones, without interfering in what any of them were doing, and not displaying any type of weapons, they expected to be able to search for Seven by tracing her comm badge without attracting any notice. Getting her out would have been another thing, but Janeway was prepared to deal with that when the time came.

Only it had not worked that way. The second they had walked away from the runabout, they were surrounded by Borg, relieved of their equipment, and forced to march through the corridors. That, in itself, was aberrant enough behavior on the Borg's part to profoundly worry Janeway. The room they were finally directed into, humid, dank and musty, was even more ominous, especially when she saw the two beings awaiting them.

She caught her breath as she saw Seven walk toward her, accompanied by another female. Neither had the appearance of the traditional Borg, and both showed an awareness and clarity in their gaze that sent a chill through the Starfleet captain.

Seven stopped before them, head tilted slightly to the side, eyeing them with interest. Janeway studied her intently, assessing her new demeanor. Seven was considerably different than the last time she had seen her, both in appearance and in attitude. The tall Borg was garbed in a black leather outfit similar to the other female's, the body armor covering her from the neck down, a thick material which displayed the new implants the nanoprobes had reactivated. The beautiful long blonde hair was gone, leaving a bald scalp dotted with black and silver circuitry, while Seven's skin had regained its whitened hue, a thin layer of moisture from the humid air covering it. The humanoid left eye the Doctor had created had been replaced with a solid ruby gem and the beam of light which emanated from it traced the length of Janeway from the top of her head to the tips of her boots, then over to rake Tuvok with chilling detachment. Janeway knew they were being scanned, analyzed, identified.

"Seven?" she asked, her voice a croak of uncertainty.

The thick air had a debilitating effect, leaving their hair limp and dripping, while dark patches spread from under their arms and down the front of their outfits. It was hard to breathe, and Janeway's chest felt heavy.

"Annika," she tried again, swallowing hard. "Are you all right?"

Seven did not respond. Instead, she watched passively as the other Borg circled the newcomers like a predator approaching a kill.

"Captain Kathryn Janeway," the stranger hissed sibilantly, moving well within the captain's personal space. "Did you think that you would take her away from us once more?"

Janeway leaned away from the hologram, revolted by her closeness though she did not understand why. Somehow she knew that this one was a grave threat to them all.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"That would take too long to explain," the Borg informed the Federation members in her hissing voice. "It is much easier to assimilate you. Then you shall understand everything."

The Holo-Queen nodded briefly, almost imperceptibly to the nearby drones who immediately seized the captives, wrenching their heads back and bringing their assimilation tubules to their necks.

"Your knowledge of the Federation will be invaluable, Captain Kathryn Janeway," the female said with decided pleasure in her voice. "We shall enjoy having another Starfleet Captain with us. We will designate you Katrinous, I believe."

"No," Seven spoke for the first time.

Janeway felt relief flood through her. Nothing was as it should be, but at least Seven had not yet been completely taken by the Collective. THe captain was aware of the other female whirling, eyes narrowed angrily, and Seven raised her hand imperiously.

"I shall assimilate this one," Seven said, forestalling the objection.

The Holo-Queen relaxed suddenly and she smirked, stepping aside. With disbelief, Janeway watched Seven take a step toward her and she could not help crying out as she was gripped by a hand which raised her head without brutality, but without gentleness either, baring her throat.

"Annika, what are you doing?" she said. "Please, fight this."

She looked deep into Seven's red-rimmed pale eyes, seeking something, anything that would give her a sense of the woman she had known. The gaze met hers squarely, and Janeway felt a soul-deep horror overwhelm her as she looked into a face that held no mercy, no compassion. No love.

She struggled as twin tubules speared out of Seven's left hand, feeling the sharp agony as they punched into her neck, injecting her with nanoprobes. Terror gripped her as her body was suddenly not her own, and a duller pain flared in her face as a starburst implant erupted from her right cheek. Her mind was flooded with voices ... so many voices ... which cascaded into her brain, instantly suppressing her resistance, her fury, and with her last gasp of defiance, she directed a burst of sheer hatred at the monster who had done this.

Then Kathryn Janeway was no more.

One of Many held the Human female up as she spasmed, accepting the mind of the new drone as she would any other, celebrating the addition of this one's distinctiveness to her own. She understood everything about the drone's previous existence in that instant, assessing the memories with a detached appreciation, absorbing the experiences that had shaped this being who had been Kathryn Janeway. An entire lifetime of memories flooded into the Collective, the first breaths of life in the arms of a loving mother, the first tentative steps toward the adored man she called Daddy, the resented arrival of a baby who would be her little sister, all the people she had known and loved as she progressed through childhood to adolescence. One analyzed the experiences of a teenager, her schooling, the first sexual experience with a clumsy, but adored Cheb Packer, the uncertain beginnings at Starfleet Academy which ended with a confident ensign accepting her first posting. An adult life that embraced a career with Starfleet intertwined with her love for Justin Tighe, the conflicted emotion regarding her father, then the devastation of watching them both die on a Tau Ceti Prime ice cap. The acceptance of command, an unexpected friendship with a Vulcan, the engagement to Mark Johnson, all the events leading to being lost in the Delta Quadrant. Then the encounters while trying to guide a ship back to the Federation, even the memories of her relationship with the entity One of Many had so recently been.

The emotional resonances of all these were disregarded, the feelings that rushed out brushed aside as irrelevant. The drone's  fury and outrage at being assimilated, the hatred like a red fire, then finally, the overwhelming terror at being completely helpless ... all of that would all fade in time, One of Many knew, unable to be sustained in the encompassing harmony that was the Collective.

One of Many watched without reaction as two tears slid from the blue-grey eyes growing dull before her gaze, a light being extinguished and shoved deep within the recesses of the drone until there was only a component awaiting its first instructions from the Collective. Before long, it was able to stand on its own, and One of Many regarded it approvingly. Its small size would allow it to work in confined areas, and she noted that the left arm would need to be removed and replaced with an appropriate tool to work on fine circuitry. She began to put it through its paces, directing it to walk around the room, sending it to the console to test her control over it. She sent a burst of instructions to it, and then ignored it as it began to carry out her bidding.

The Holo-Queen was circling Tuvok, smiling with predatory anticipation.

The hologram was definitely too emotional. It was time to remove the flawed program, One of Many considered impassively. Time to redefine how the Collective would develop.

One of Many turned to the Vulcan as she sent a second burst of instructions to the Janeway drone. Tuvok was looking at the Holo-Queen impassively, but One of Many knew that he had to be experiencing the same emotions that Janeway had, perhaps even more so since he had been forced to watch the assimilation of his captain. One of Many had no wish to frighten him, but it was irrelevant to her if he indeed, was experiencing fear.

"It will be difficult assimilate this one," the Holo-Queen said with dissatisfaction. "For every one of this type that are assimilated, three perish. We should discard it immediately."

"Inefficient," One of Many noted. "Vulcans are logical, disciplined. They make excellent drones and their distinctiveness adds much to our own."

"Assimilation of them is inefficient," the Holo-Queen insisted.

"That is small thinking. We must study this, find a way to defeat their mental ability to commit self-destruction when faced with assimilation," One of Many replied. "Research it without assimilation just as we would a new technology."

The Holo-Queen considered that while One transmitted the third and final burst of instructions to the Janeway drone. Harmless in themselves, when combined with the two other sets of instructions in the proper order, the data the drone was inputting would implement the plan One of Many had designed after reviewing the Borg's history. The arrival of the Federation members was a fortunate happenstance, and allowed her to implement it immediately. Though it was truly irrelevant to her analytical mind, her biological instinct dictated that she at least make the attempt to survive, which made their discarded vessel a perfect escape outlet. She sent out a query along the cube mind to discover that several Borg drones had begun to disassemble the runabout. With a thought, she directed them to reverse their intention, and they began to undo what they had begun, repairing the vessel rather than dismantling it.

The Janeway drone completed its instructions perfectly, and when it was done, it dropped its hands to its sides, waiting passively for the next set of orders.

"It is an acceptable plan," the Holo-Queen was saying with approval. "One we have never before considered. We knew your unique experience would add much to our own."

One of Many ignored her, concentrating her attention on the Federation male.

"You will be confined and studied until we are able to assimilate you," One of Many told him. "Do not resist. It is futile."

"If you remember me at all," he informed her. "You know I cannot obey."

"I understand," she responded evenly.

The Holo-Queen suddenly faltered, her pattern flickering as the matrix began to degrade. She looked back at the Janeway drone with an expression of profound horror, then at One of Many.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Her tone was a combination of hatred, betrayal, and outrage.

And fear.

Tuvok had raised an eyebrow, sensing that something unusual was happening.

"We have freed the Collective of the will of the individual," One of Many informed her reasonably. "The Collective shall never achieve perfection unless the influence of the single, individual desire is removed."

"IT IS NOT WHAT WE WISH!"

The Borg drones and the hologram itself attempted to advance on her, but the virus had already spread through most of the systems. The link was interrupted, fractured, the Collective disintegrating into chaos.

"It is what shall be," One of Many observed with satisfaction.

The Holo-Queen disappeared, the program finally crashing completely as the drones around them collapsed, helpless in the sudden and total cessation of the link. Only the Janeway drone remained upright, waiting passively, maintained by One of Many through the link.

One regarded Tuvok. "It is time to depart," she suggested.

"Agreed," he said as she took his arm and pushed him out the door.

Almost as an afterthought, she directed the Janeway drone to follow them.

Tuvok did not try to figure out what was going on, or how Seven had somehow thrown off her assimilation to help them escape. In truth, he was simply grateful for it, leading the way through the seemingly endless corridors, seeking the runabout which seemed the best option for leaving. The cube was beginning to break down around them, the drones unable to function without the direction of the Queen. Tuvok had been unaware of this entity or the fact that this female had somehow controlled the Borg.

He really should have spoken to Seven about the Borg in greater detail before this. If they somehow survived, he promised that he would sit down and have a long talk with her regarding the Collective.

He snuck a glance at Janeway. The captain had developed more implants on her face and head, the auburn hair coming out in clumps to drift to the deck as she brushed by walls and conduits. Her eyes were empty, devoid of expression, and already her skin was taking on the pale, corpse-like hue of the Borg.

He was forced to control the shudder that rose in him.

The trio avoided the prostrate drones, leaping over some and more than once, had to divert their course to avoid others which were going berserk, striking out at random in their panic by the sudden loss of the Collective link, at being suddenly isolated, of becoming individuals.

The runabout remained where they had been forced to leave it, sitting silent on the landing pad surrounded by unmoving Borg. He had a distinct qualm as he noted that they had been working on the systems, but a quick check showed that everything was still in order so he moved quickly inside. They had been fortunate that the Borg had not disassembled it after their capture.

Tuvok managed to maintain an impassive face as he considered what might have been. As plans went, Tuvok noted dryly, it had left a lot to be desired and he had every intention of bringing that to the captain's attention once her Humanity was restored. Yet, with the runabout intact as he swiftly activated the launch sequence, by-passing the initial check altogether, he decided that for all its flaws, the plan had indeed succeeded in its intention. Seven of Nine had been recovered, and an escape was theoretically possible. Even if Janeway had gotten assimilated in the process.

"The transwarp drive is beginning to deteriorate," Seven remarked flatly in that eerie echoing tone as she bent over the Janeway drone, fixing the straps tightly around her. "It will self-destruct soon. It is important that this cube be destroyed so that the Queen program cannot be salvaged. We have only minutes before the core breaches."

Tuvok could detect no sign of emotion in the Borg, no sense that she cared about Janeway any more than she would any other piece of equipment that might come loose to fly about the cabin during flight. He flicked a glance at her as she grasped the captain's head, staring intently into Janeway's unconscious features for a space of several seconds, then he started abruptly as Seven wrenched the woman's head forward and dug her fingernails into the soft area behind the ear, blood spurting as Seven drew out a small black device.

"The neural transceiver," she explained flatly as he made a motion toward her. "She has now been completely severed from the Collective ... and from our control."

He relaxed once he realized the wound was superficial and eyed Seven as the Borg settled in the co-pilot's seat. She reached up to the back of her own neck.

"We will be unconscious for hours," she told him. "However, it will prevent the Collective from regaining control over us. When the Collective adapts, they will send vessels to investigate this area. You must destroy the transceivers so that we cannot be tracked and, be well away from here before then if you wish to escape assimilation."

Before he could answer, she unflinchingly removed her own transceiver before slumping unconscious in the chair, the two devices falling to the deck from her dangling hand.

Impressed with her logical efficiency, Tuvok retrieved a phaser from a nearby compartment and vaporized the two transceivers lying on the deck. He did not look at the unconscious forms as he lifted off and navigated the vessel through the passage, which was showing signs of the inner catastrophe taking place in the rest of the cube. Explosions sent debris shooting from the walls, forcing quick course corrections and buffeting the small ship as it zipped through the disintegrating channel.

Then, the blackness of space beckoned, and they were free of the exhaust tube bare seconds before an eruption of gas and flame blasted out behind them. He threw the Mississippi into full impulse, trying to get far enough away from the cube to engage the warp drive. It was not in time and the universe spun around wildly as the Borg Cube exploded in an expanding ball of destroyed matter and energy, the concussion wave catching the fleeing ship and flipping it end over end like a child's toy.

It was most fortunate they had all strapped in, he thought dazedly as he fought to bring the helm back on line. However, red lights dotted his board, and from the display, he knew the rest of the news was not good. Warp drive was offline and life support was damaged. According to his calculations, they had air for only a few more hours before they would share the fate of the Borg they had left behind.

He glanced back at Janeway who lay unconscious in her seat, legs and arms askew, looking helpless and defeated. It seemed a cruel sort of irony for the captain to have been able to once more walk into a Borg cube and make off with Seven of Nine only to succumb to suffocation a few hours later.

A beep caught his attention and he looked forward again, a light appearing in the distance through the viewport, forming rapidly into a very familiar silver vessel looming over the small runabout.

Captain Janeway, he thought, will not be pleased with Chakotay.

Not even taking into account the fact that Voyager's timely arrival had probably saved all their lives.

"The time is now 0600 hours," the computer's feminine voice issued over the intercom of cargo bay two.

Seven opened her eyes and moved out of the Borg alcove, stepping down from the dais automatically before she stopped, realizing there was no place she had to be, the memory of all that had happened crashing down on her with devastating force. She turned slowly and looked at the Borg structure she had just left. Now that her abdominal implant had been restored, she was once more required to regenerate in the alcove maintained in cargo bay two, deriving her energy directly from Voyager's stores.

Wearily, she sank down onto the dais, leaning against the post next to it. She could not help remembering a previous time when Janeway had been here with her, when Seven was being punished with the traditional confining to quarters. The captain had come to inform her the sentence would be lifted the next day and took a moment to sit down in this very spot for 'only a moment', closing her eyes and surrendering to sleep, having spent the previous ten days without it. Seven had held her for the next eight hours, cradling the captain in her arms, protecting her from the hard deck by imposing her own body between it and the woman. Quietly enjoying every second of it.

There would be no more of that, of course. Kathryn hated her, found her very presence revolting to her. Touching her was something Seven would never again be able to do.

Seven had returned to consciousness in sickbay a week earlier, all her emotion and memories intact, realizing what she had done and how she had used the captain without restraint or mercy, making her a helpless pawn in her plan to destroy the Holo-Queen. Worse, the captain had understood everything that was happening, that One of Many had regarded the Janeway drone as nothing more than a tool.

Janeway hated her for it. Despised her with every fibre of her being as she helplessly carried out her instructions as a Borg drone.

The captain's superficial implants had been quickly removed once the runabout had returned to Voyager, and she had been returned to duty within a couple of days.  Seven's restoration had taken much longer, leaving her comatose for almost a week. Yet even when Seven had regained consciousness, Janeway had not returned to sickbay, had not visited Seven the entire time she had spent recovering, although the Doctor assured her that he was keeping the captain updated periodically on her progress. No one else had visited her either, not B'Elanna, not Tuvok, not even Harry Kim, and Seven had been keenly aware of being isolated and alone despite Sek's gentle attempts to comfort her. She supposed that she should have expected the result considering what she had done. In a way, it was surprising that she was not surrounded by security even now.  Yet her isolation had still opened a sharp, wicked wound within her, though she tried not to show it, tried not to indicate she was anything but calm and contained.  For some reason, she did not want them to know how much they had hurt her, that her wound would not heal, even after she was released from sickbay and instructed to remain in cargo bay two until further notice.

She felt as if some vicious animal had taken up residence within her, and every so often would, just for sport, rake its claws down the inside of her from the base of her throat to the very pit of her stomach. She glanced down at the hated silver outfit, which she had first worn on Voyager, almost as if she could see the creature beneath the sleek material. The skin-suit was a protective covering, designed to allow her to heal from the many surgical procedures she had undergone, leaving only her head and hands exposed to the air. It would be weeks before she could remove the outfit, much longer before the Doctor could once again remove the abdominal implant so that she could exist solely on organic food.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them, staring blankly at the containers littering the cargo bay. She knew she had to decide on her next course of action, knew that it was imperative that she take the next inevitable step. It was very clear to her that she could not be with Kathryn ever again. Even if she did hope that a time might arrive when Kathryn did not hate her so much, Seven knew that in the meantime, her very presence caused the captain extreme discomfort.

She would just have to leave, Seven decided bleakly. Go someplace where no one knew of her or the Borg or even Voyager ... and maybe someday, somehow, she could forget all she had lost. If only the thought of being without her didn't hurt so much, but Seven loved Kathryn too much to force her to be in her presence, to run the risk of continually encountering each other as they were apt to do on such a small vessel.

She tried to objectively assess her options. She was aware that Voyager could not spare a shuttle or the runabout, but perhaps an escape pod could be adjusted for warp power if B'Elanna could give her some antimatter. She could install her Borg alcove within the pod, and running it off the impulse engine would provide all she required to exist.

Existence, she supposed dully, was the absolute best she could hope for her future.

The sound of the large doors to the cargo bay sliding open made her raise her head, refocusing her attention to the light from the corridor framing a compact form walking toward her. She identified her visitor immediately and stood up quickly, standing at attention, hands linked behind her back.

Janeway's face was impassive, the solid mask of command which concealed well the woman beneath and what she was feeling. But then, Seven knew what she was feeling. That was the benefit of being assimilated together. Seven understood her perfectly.

"How are you?" Janeway asked.

In a tone she would have used to ask anyone. Would have asked a prisoner or a stranger. There was no love in the eyes, nothing in the grey gaze that indicated anything beyond a request for information.

Seven took a breath, controlling herself with every ounce of will she could summon. This small shred of dignity was the only thing she had left to her, this profound need to not break down in front of this woman. She would not surrender to her pain, she would not force the captain to view her vulnerability on top of everything else. She would be professional. Like the best Starfleet officer.

"I am functioning at acceptable levels," she replied flatly.

Janeway nodded briefly, looked past her to the alcove.

"You realize we have a situation here," she said coolly. "Your presence is damaging to the function of this vessel."

Stated so plainly, Seven's heart had no choice but to shatter into a million shards of sheer agony.

"I understand," Seven replied in a low voice. That was the only way she could keep it steady. She desperately needed to keep it steady. "It is my intention to leave."

Janeway's gaze flicked to hers, an eyebrow raising slightly. "When?"

"As soon as possible," Seven responded. She wondered if it were possible to die from pain, if she could stop her heart right now, if somehow, she could find some way to keep from having to live through this moment.  "As soon as I have finished my preparations."

Janeway did not react, her face did not change. "We will provide whatever we can," she said quietly. "What do you require?"

"I will need an escape pod," Seven said. She did not know how she maintained this brittle calm which was the finest of layers over utter devastation, but the captain did not seem to notice. Time had taken on an odd quality, making her feel like this moment would last forever. "I believe I can adapt it to warp capacity with a small amount of antimatter."

"I'll see that Lt. Torres provides you with a container," Janeway said. She paused, then added in a gentler voice. "What would you do? Go back to the Collective?"

Seven had not considered it but it seemed a viable option. Feeling nothing would be a tremendous alternative to what she was experiencing now. Yet, it would also mean not remembering Kathryn, not remembering how it felt for that period of time when she was loved.  SSevenhe could not give that up ... not yet.  Not even with the pain she was feeling now.

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Then what do you have in mind?"

"I don't know," Seven whispered. She dropped her eyes to study the deck. Perhaps she would head toward the Borius Cluster. She had never been there, and it was on a direct right angle away from the course plotted for the Alpha Quadrant. Voyager would not have to go out of its way to avoid meeting up with her again.

"We wish you all the best," Janeway told her. In the same inflection she would offer a stranger, a polite farewell to someone she didn't know, did not want to know.

She turned to leave, striding briskly toward the cargo bay door.

"Captain." Janeway stopped, but did not turn around. Seven looked at the profile offered her, trying to memorize that face, imprint the fine line of cheekbone forever in her mind, the auburn hair falling soft around the delicate shell of ear, the slender shoulders beneath the red and black uniform.

"Good-bye, Kathryn," she said softly.

"As you were," Janeway said formally, then was gone, the doors sliding shut behind her.

Seven could no longer weep. Her return to physical Humanity had not reached that level yet, had not restored the function of her tear ducts. Instead, all she could do was take one shuddering breath after another, the sound coming from her throat like nothing she recognized, feeling as if she had been flayed and ripped open so badly she thought she would die.

If only she had.

Janeway stood outside the cargo bay doors, caught between her deep need to see Seven and the recommendations of the Doctor. He had suggested that Seven would require a lot of time to recover from her ordeal, and a lot of space. Perhaps it was with a certain relief that she had accepted his instructions at the time. She had been considerably shaken by her assimilation, and her unease around Seven would have been easily detected by the young woman.

Janeway leaned her forehead against the bulkhead, sighing softly. The last  weeks had been very difficult. She had believed, deep down at the core of all she was, that she simply could not be assimilated. That was why she had so blithely gone after Seven, walking onto the cube with so little preparation. What arrogance, she thought ruefully. What sheer, unmitigated gall she had displayed. She had thought she could resist the process, could somehow overcome the voices, that she was strong enough to defeat the Collective itself and snatch Seven away, just as she had before.

'Wrong' seemed like such an insignificant word to describe what she had been.

She learned just how futile resistance really was, how easily the voices could crush her single cry beneath them, what being completely and totally helpless really meant. She had been no more than a cog to be used in the machine that was the Collective, an insignificant circuit that drove the energy, able to be used and discarded without the slightest hesitation from the unified mind.

Yet as much as she despised that unfeeling entity, Janeway detested even more the unresisting puppet the once proud Starfleet captain had so quickly become. She knew that she had no choice in the matter but she was unable to keep the feelings of shame from filling her. She thought she should have been able to fight harder, resist longer.

She took a long, deep breath, shaking as she leaned against the hull.

She really needed to speak with Seven about this. Her partner was the only one who truly understood what she had experienced. She realized that Seven would require a distance from the Voyager crew to recover just as she had when she had first joined them, to adapt to no longer having the voices, but Janeway couldn't wait any longer, and now that Seven had returned to the cargo bay, she decided that she had given Seven all the space and time she could spare.

Taking a deep breath, she keyed the door and walked in. The lights in the cargo bay were kept low, and the greenish hue due to the illumination from the maintained Borg alcove sent a shiver down her spine, raising the hair on the back of her neck. She would have to get over this irrational apprehension, she thought. It was not anything Seven needed to see.

She frowned as she approached the alcove. Seven stood within the braces, her body twitching, a sound coming from her throat unlike anything Janeway had ever heard before, an animal sound of such pain and loss that Janeway thought it would shatter her heart. Alarmed, she leaped onto the dais, fingers flying over the control panel as she terminated the regeneration cycle.

Seven's eyes flew open and she pitched forward, Janeway barely keeping her from collapsing completely as the young woman's larger build bore them both to the deck. Janeway found herself sitting on the dais, her back against the post, Seven on her lap.

"Annika, what's wrong?" she asked anxiously as the woman clung to her, shuddering helplessly, her breath coming in dry sobs. Maybe she shouldn't have disobeyed the Doctor's instructions, Janeway thought despairingly. Maybe she had just made things worse.

"Please do not make me go," Seven cried in agony. "I do not want to leave."

"I'm not going to make you go," Janeway said soothingly, patting her back clumsily. "My god, Annika, I just got you back."

There was a pause as Seven seemed to be considering this, her breath coming in hard gasps. "It was a dream," she said finally, eyes blank and terribly empty, staring into nothingness.

A nightmare, more like it, judging from the aftermath, Janeway allowed silently. She hadn't realized that Seven dreamed while undergoing regeneration. Carefully she slipped her arm around the slender torso, hugging Seven gently as she lightly stroked the silky hair regrown finally, having released it from the austere bun almost without noticing the automatic gesture, letting it spill grandly over her hand. "Tell me about it," she requested quietly.

Slowly, in a voice made shaky by emotion she could not control, Seven recounted every detail of the dream she had been experiencing prior to Janeway's arrival. Janeway felt tears sting her eyes as Seven described the vivid nightmare.

Dammit, Janeway thought angrily. This is the absolute last time I listen to the Doctor.

"Darling," she told her softly, cuddling the young woman. "I gave up my command for you. Do you really think I would just let you walk away without a fight?"

Seven closed her eyes, clinging tightly to the smaller woman, her frantic heartbeat slowing as she regained control of herself.

"I thought you hated me," she said. She hesitated. "I know you do. Our thoughts were one. I know what you felt, what you were thinking." Seven pulled away from the embrace to sit beside her. Her head was bent, eyes downcast as she refused to look at Janeway. "You are revolted by me," she said in a small voice. "You hate me."

Janeway thought hard, regarding the woman intently. "Maybe you did know what I felt and thought as a drone," she said slowly, trying to explain it to herself as well. "That doesn't mean you understood what I was thinking and feeling, however ... or why I was feeling it. Annika, I hated what you became, what the Collective turned you into. I also hated what I became, and that I was so easily taken, but love, that had nothing to do with us."

Seven raised her pale blue gaze to her, disbelief warring with hope in her eyes. "I was in control," she objected. "I was One of Many."

"Yes," Janeway said. She searched for the right words. "I was the Borg drone ... but we had been stripped of emotion, and in my case, of my will. We were no longer who we were. It was as if we had been copied and  remade into something else, something incomplete. Emotion is what makes us Human, Annika, what makes us live rather than merely exist. The intellect, without the tempering of our feelings makes us nothing more than constructs, and Humanity strives for more than that, just as the Collective does. Raw emotion, untempered by intellect is without direction, random and unspecific no matter where you might think it was directed."  She exhaled slowly.  "I won't deny that as a drone, I was afraid of and despised what had made me one, but I truly believe it was always the Collective I hated. I don't think I ever connected One of Many with it any more than I do Seven of Nine, or Annika Hansen.  It wasn't you."

Seven was still, pondering her words. "It was me," she insisted softly. "I was of the Collective and the Collective was of me. It was my will. "

"Yes," Janeway allowed and bent her head to catch Seven's gaze, wanting her to understand, to remember. "A will that gave up absolute power for the good of the Collective's evolution. A will that would not assimilate Tuvok because that would have killed him, yet still found a way to keep him safe from the Collective. A will that took along a mere drone when you left, even though there was no need.  I do believe that part was indeed you, Annika."

Seven took a breath.  "I did not care about a drone," she said, clearly attempting to be as accurate as possible.  "Nor did I care about Tuvok."

"Then you could have discarded me," Janeway said with assurance. "It would have been more efficient to kill Tuvok before escaping yourself. You didn't need either of us, yet you made sure we both were safe, that we escaped as well." She reached down and grasped Seven's hand, holding it tightly. "I remember what you did before you removed my neural transceiver. You gave me everything you were just as the Collective had taken everything I was, all the experiences, all the memories. You shared them with me, then you severed the link. What logical, efficient reason did you have for doing that, One of Many?"

Seven opened her mouth to respond, paused, looked very confused and distressed. "I do not know," she said in a whisper. "It does not make sense. I acted irrationally."

"Yes, you did," Janeway said. "Maybe you felt nothing as One of Many, but there was something that demanded you keep me and Tuvok safe, that you try to return what had been taken from me in whatever way you could. You did all this long before you severed your own link to the Collective, before you stopped being a Borg."

"I do not understand," Seven said finally, uncertainly.

Janeway nodded. "Maybe neither of us ever will," she said softly. "But understand this, darling. I love you. I never stopped. It might have been buried so deep that even I couldn't feel it, but it was always there. I also believe that you also never stopped loving me. Not really."

Seven caught her breath, closing her eyes. Janeway knew the woman's tear ducts had not yet been restored but if they had, tears would now be sliding down Seven's face. They were certainly sliding down hers. She squeezed the hand held between her palms, entwining her fingers with those of Seven's.

"You are my heart, Annika," she said firmly. "In whatever form you come in."

"I do love you," Seven whispered. "I do."

"I know," Janeway responded quietly. Blinking furiously to clear her vision, she raised the hand to her lips, kissing the palm gently. "I want you to come home with me. Will you?"

Seven glanced at her from beneath lowered lashes. "I always wanted to go home," she said, voice choked. "I thought you did not want to see me."

There was a sound in Janeway's throat, a growl of dismay and profound anger at herself. "We made a mistake, darling," she admitted. "Maybe it was even a mistake the first time to isolate you until you had adapted to losing your implants, but we were trying to reproduce your first disassimilation as closely as possible, including my letting you be alone until you felt comfortable enough to tell us you were ready to rejoin our family. I'm sorry, Annika. It was wrong, and I take full responsibility."

"It hurt me," Seven said slowly. "However, I understand now that it was not intentional."

"Will you return to our quarters now?" Janeway asked humbly. "You can always return here to regenerate whenever you need, but I do want you to live with me."

"I want to stay with you, as well," Seven whispered.

Janeway felt relief flood her. She had been afraid that Seven might not have retained her emotions for her, or worse still, might even have been contemptuous of how easily the captain had fallen to assimilation.

How little I must think of her, she mused remorsefully. How little I consider the strength of her love.

To think they accused Seven of arrogance. The captain seemed to have cornered the market quite nicely in that area, and only now was she beginning to realize it.  The misunderstandings, the assumptions made without foundation on her part, on Seven's, on the Doctor's. Apparently Seven's belief that they would understand each other perfectly once assimilated had been incorrect. Strangely, that made Janeway feel a lot better though she had no idea why. Maybe she just didn't want to be able to completely understand Seven, or have Seven completely understand her. It was enough that they both loved each other.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go home."

She stood up, helped Seven regain her feet, and still holding her hand tightly, led her from the cargo bay.

Seven entered the captain's quarters, feeling as if this was some strange and unfamiliar place instead of where she had lived these past months. She gazed around the rooms with curious interest, noting the padds scattered haphazardly on the sofa and desk, the stained wineglass left standing on the low table. Assorted coffee mugs, many with dark dregs still in them, adorned the various tables and consoles. She raised an eyebrow, shooting a look at Janeway who had the grace to look abashed.

"That's the other reason I wanted you to come home," the captain said wryly.

Despite all she had been through, Seven still retained her ability to recognize when the captain was being facetious. She did not smile ... for some reason, that was an effort beyond her at the moment ... but she felt warmed by the attempt at humor nonetheless.

She knew that it was still not completely all right between her and Kathryn, that there was still an uncertainty there. She remembered Kathryn's flinch when she had brushed up unexpectedly against her in the turbo-lift, but she tried to remember that it was not her that Kathryn was still sensitive to, it was the memories her Borgness inspired. She was also aware that the captain was doing her utmost not to display the apprehension she was feeling, but Seven could sense it in the body language, in her voice.

"I cannot leave you alone for a minute," Seven responded, making her own weak attempt at humor. Something she had not been especially adept at in the best of times.

The smile that lit the elegant features, that brightened the eyes to a soft blue, was far more reward than the remark deserved but Seven was very glad to accept it. She scanned the rest of the room, focusing on the two statues squatting on the table by the couch. She went over to them, tracing the angular lines with a forefinger. Bemused, she turned to look at Kathryn.

"I replicated them," Janeway said quietly. "As best I could."

"You never liked them," Seven responded with surety.

"But now I appreciate them," the captain responded. "I know what you see in them."

Seven nodded slowly. She glanced at Janeway again as the captain shifted in an uncomfortable manner.

"What?" she asked.

"I suppose you don't have to eat anymore," Janeway offered. There was a touch of disappointment in her voice, very subtle, but still there to flavor the words.

"No," Seven allowed. She regarded the other woman closely. "Are you hungry? Do you wish to eat?"

Janeway nodded. "I'll grab some dinner while you get used to the place again," she said.

"I will make you something," Seven offered carefully.

Janeway looked at her. "You don't have to do that," she protested mildly.

But Seven knew that was not what Janeway was really hoping for.

"I want to," Seven said. "I enjoy making dinner for you. It gives me pleasure to see you eat."

"All right," Janeway agreed, her eyes brightening even more. "Maybe that chicken and vegetable thing?"

"The one served with rice?" Seven needed to clarify which dish the captain was referring to.

"Yes," Janeway said. "I've always liked that."

Seven moved over to the replicator, feeling a certain sort of relief as she programmed the required vegetables, the protein, and the cooking oil which materialized on the tray. She realized they were starting to return to their routine, starting to mend together their life. This food preparation was part of the first step of repairing their former closeness, suggested by Janeway in her own oblique way, and readily seized upon by Seven.

The younger woman carried the tray-full of organics to her work area, placing them on the butcher block counter before drawing out a large, deep pan with its own heating element from the compartment below. She had appropriated the pan, the 'wok' as Janeway identified it, from Neelix's kitchen one night a long time ago. She supposed he had hardly ever used it since he did not seem to notice it was missing, but she found it to be the single most useful cooking utensil she possessed. It, along with her wooden cutting board, and the set of knives B'Elanna had helped her pick out one day in an alien market were all she needed to create any meal. B'Elanna was no chef, but her approving comment that Seven could always use the knives to carve someone up was testament to their keen edge and usefulness.

She was aware of Janeway replicating a glass of something behind her, the faint trace of alcohol reaching her nostrils. A whiskey and soda, Seven realized and knew that Janeway was still discomforted. The captain rarely drank any intoxicating liquids stronger than wine. She felt Kathryn's presence sidle next to her as she began to slice the protein into long strips, the oil heating in the wok. It was not the captain's habit to linger in Seven's work area when she was preparing dinner, but the Borg thought she understood why it was different this day. She had to move around Kathryn to get to the spices she kept in another compartment, and the captain made an apologetic sound.

"I'm sorry, Annika. I'll get out of your way."

"No," Seven said, reaching out a hand to forestall her leaving, hesitating before she actually touched her. She looked into Kathryn's eyes. "I like having you near me. You are not in my way."

Janeway stared at her a long moment. "I need to be near you," she admitted softly. She put down her glass, moving closer and Seven felt her arms slip around her waist.

Carefully, Seven put her arms around her, holding her with a sort of grateful relief. In the cargo bay, Janeway had been in her comforting mode, reaching out as her friend and her captain to reassure her, not even aware in some ways of what she had been doing. Now, however, it was Kathryn that needed reassurance, needed to be touched and stroked, needed to restore the physical connection between them. Seven could not really feel Kathryn's body against her, the sensation from her neck to her toes restricted to a sort of numb awareness of pressure, but she could smell the spicy fragrance of the smaller woman's hair, hear the soft sounds of her breathing, and for this moment, it was enough.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" Janeway asked quietly as she rested her head against Seven's chest.

"No," Seven said. "I have little sensation through the suit." She reached up and touched Kathryn's cheek with her fingertips. "The nerve ending in my hands and face have been fully restored, however."

Janeway raised her head then, concern darkening her eyes, and it seemed the most natural thing in the universe that Seven would then dip lower, covering the velvet lips with her own, kissing her lovingly, gently, tasting the sharp tang of whiskey, and the underlying sweetness that was so characteristic of Kathryn. As Kathryn responded, kissing her back with heartfelt need, a ragged portion of Seven which had been ripped asunder during her time as One of Many was knitted back together, the raw edges of doubt and fear beginning to finally heal.

They stood together for long moments after the kiss ended, Seven's cheek against Janeway's temple, the captain's chin and jaw cupped in her right palm, their eyes closed, simply enjoying the sensation of being close to each other again.

"Sickbay to Captain."

Janeway made a small sound of aggravation before moving away to touch her comm badge.

"Go ahead," she instructed.

"Captain, I don't want to alarm you," the Doctor's strained voice came over the channel. "But Seven of Nine is missing from the Cargo Bay."

Janeway frowned, attention centering on Seven's left breast, and Seven followed her gaze to realize that she had not been issued a comm badge since she had returned from the Collective. Without it, no one would be able to locate her by asking the computer, and Seven suspected that the Doctor had not wanted to request a ship-wide scan be made to detect her implants in order to track her down. Despite herself, a small smile touched the corners of her mouth, and when she raised her eyes to meet Janeway's, there was an echoing sparkle in the blue-grey gaze.

"It's not protocol to misplace patients, Doctor," Janeway said with cool disapproval.

There was a pause and then a distinctly resigned tone issued from the communicator. "She's with you, isn't she?"

Janeway looked vaguely disappointed that he had figured it out so quickly which served to heighten Seven's amusement. "Seven of Nine has returned to her own quarters," the captain explained. "Where she belongs."

"Are you sure that's wise?" he asked anxiously.

"Anything else is unacceptable," Janeway told him tartly.

Another pause, an audible intake of breath, surprising since, of course, the Emergency Medical Hologram had no need to inhale. "Understood," he responded dourly and cut the channel.

"I believe you offended him," Seven offered.

"I believe he made a faulty diagnosis," Janeway responded firmly. Then sighed. "Sek tried to tell me that you wouldn't want to be alone, but he was convinced that keeping you away from the rest of us was the best way to proceed. That by reproducing the method we used when you first came to us, it would allow you to readapt the quickest."

"I was not in love with you the first time," Seven said gently. "Nor did I have friends that I wanted to see." She shrugged. "It was a logical presumption on his part, however. It is possible that my assimilation could have made me a threat to the ship."

"I should have known better," Janeway said, apparently determined to assume all the responsibility as was her way. "I shouldn't have listened to him."

"I should have protested at being kept from you," Seven said, moving closer. She reached out and touched Janeway's forearm. "We both know that we can be made to do things without our consent. That makes it even more important where we have the choice, to do everything we can to make the proper one. It was wrong of me to make assumptions about how you were feeling. I should have had the courage to talk with you as soon as I woke up, and was able to speak. I should have insisted on it."

Janeway's expression was mixed as she reached up and lay her knuckles against Seven's cheek, a combination of regret and concern. "I should have been there when you woke," she said softly.  "I should have followed my heart, not let fear dictate my actions. I promised you when we first got together that I wouldn't do that again. I guess I broke that promise."

"I know you did not intend to," Seven said, reaching up to take the hand into her own. She moved closer, looking down at the beloved face with loving sincerity. "I know that being assimilated was very difficult for you, and while I still had the appearance as One of Many, it was a constant reminder of it.  It was too much to ask that you be there before my appearance was altered to what it is now."

"But I have to be stronger than that," Janeway said simply. "You needed me and I let you down."

"No," Seven said firmly. "You never let me down, Kathryn. You do not have to be stronger than you are. You do not have to be anything, but who you are with me."

Janeway smiled tremulously.  "Are we finished trying to take all the blame on ourselves?" she asked gently.

"I believe so," Seven replied, smiling briefly as she realized what they had been doing.

Having run out of words, they reached out for each other, holding onto one another tightly. With a profound sense of relief and pleasure, Seven cradled Kathryn in her embrace, as if she were the most precious of treasures, wanting nothing more than to stay this way forever. From the way Kathryn clung to her, she believed the captain also shared that desire.

"Annika," Janeway said finally, with deep concern. "Is your wok supposed to be on fire?"

It took them awhile to get the last trace of burnt cooking oil out of the air, even though the flames were quickly extinguished by Seven putting the cover on the wok, and shutting off the heating element. That had actually disturbed Janeway a little. Seven's easy familiarity in dousing the flames indicated that it was far from the first time she had dealt with such a thing. The captain supposed she shouldn't think about that too hard. What she didn't know would let her sleep nights.

The wok required cleaning however, and that delayed dinner even further so Janeway felt obligated to assist, slicing the vegetables as Seven prepared the rice. That had surprised them both since they had never actually done this together before, and Janeway's aversion to cooking, especially from scratch, was well known to anyone who would listen. Possibly that was another side effect from the assimilation, Janeway thought as she cut the vegetables into thin strips, and tossed them into the wok. There was a calming effect to preparing food, and she thought she understood why Seven enjoyed it so much. It was, in its own way, a creative endeavor, just as Janeway's painting and sculpting in da Vinci's laboratory was. She wondered how Seven would react to a holo-program utilizing humanity's greatest chefs, then had to suppress a shudder, the thought of holograms lending itself quickly to thoughts of the Borg Queen.

She had not known anything about such a being, and she found the history now in her mind, of the creature and its encounter with Captain Picard of the Enterprise, a fascinating memory, though a fleeting one. She was pleased to realize that most of what had been dumped into her head was almost completely gone now, though she had made a concentrated effort to retain as much of Seven's memories and experiences as she could. Yet, even that was fading quickly as time went by. The Doctor seemed convinced that neither would suffer any permanent effects from being assimilated.

Of course, he had also been convinced that it was in Seven's best interests to be isolated after her return.

Janeway sighed, reaching out a hand to rest on the small of Seven's back. When there was no response, she slipped her arms around the tiny waist and hugged Seven from behind, realizing the younger woman had not felt her original touch. She had to remember that Seven had her nerve endings muted, much as she herself had experienced while a drone. Janeway had a sudden mental impression of an implant erupting on her cheek, aware that it had not hurt as it should have, and wondered if that dullness was precisely what Seven was feeling under the outfit. She supposed she should be grateful that Seven was not required to wear gloves, or a full face mask.  She reached up and kissed Seven's ear, nibbling on it gently.

"Are you attempting to distract me?" Seven asked quietly.

Janeway smiled as she nuzzled the soft lobe. "I would if I could," she murmured. "But we certainly don't need any more fires."

"Not of the previous sort," Seven agreed. She did turn and look down at Janeway, however, a gentle smile on her face. "Still, a brief interruption would not be dangerous."

"No?"

Janeway smiled as she felt Seven's mouth cover hers once more, and she gave the kiss the attention it deserved, wondering why she wanted Seven so much this moment even as she was very aware she couldn't have her. Maybe that was why, she thought ruefully. Finally, they released the embrace and went back to preparing the meal, this digression not affecting the cooking at all for which Janeway was suitably appreciative later when she sat down to her meal and took her first few mouthfuls.

Somehow preparing the food seemed to make it taste even better, the captain discovered, something she had never understood before. She wondered if that was why her mother had enjoyed cooking and baking. She knew that was part of the reason Seven derived a certain satisfaction out of making dinner. That, and the fact that Seven was aware Janeway truly enjoyed her cooking. It was Seven's gift to her, and Kathryn was appropriately grateful ... even if five years of Neelix's cooking hadn't made her so in the first place.

"This is tremendous," she said, pausing briefly between bites.

Seven smiled briefly, eyes lighting perceptively from where she sat on the other side of the table, idly playing with some utensils as she watched Janeway eat. She seemed somewhat amused by the way Janeway was attacking her meal.

"I gather you have been existing on little food and sleep the past two weeks," she said dryly.

Janeway attempted not to change expressions though she knew she had. That was the other side to having someone understand her. She could never hide anything. But then, Seven had always known when the captain hadn't been eating or sleeping properly, long before they had been assimilated together.

"I ... the Doctor saw that I ate," Janeway admitted. She still smarted from that lecture.

"You haven't been sleeping, however," Seven said quietly.

"You know I can't when you're not with me," Janeway responded simply, regarding her partner evenly.

Seven lowered her eyes. "It will be unnecessary for me to sleep for some time," she said sadly.

Janeway considered that, looking over the suit covering the beloved body, at the formidable heels the woman was forced to wear which contained additional circuitry for her implants. They could easily rip up the bedding, but then, the captain noted, it would hardly be the first time their bed had been destroyed.

"You can still lay beside me while I sleep," Janeway suggested quietly. "If you'd like."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "That would be acceptable?" she asked, hope dawning in her eyes. She added a cautionary tone. "I cannot even remove my footwear. It will be uncomfortable for you."

"I will adapt," Janeway said in a flat tone.

Seven flinched, and Janeway reached out a hand quickly to cover Seven's, remorseful as she realized that assuming the Borg tone for her play on words was more hurtful than amusing.

"I'm sorry darling," she said. "Bad joke." Seven relaxed as she realized Janeway had been attempting humor.

"I suspect we both must adapt," Seven allowed, taking a breath.

"It will take some time," Janeway agreed. "But it's better we do it together than apart."

Seven nodded and focused her attention on Janeway's plate. "Do you wish more?" she asked. "I made too much." She hesitated. "I am used to cooking for both of us."

"You will again," Janeway assured her. She reached over and filled her plate from the bowls on the table. She was not in the habit of taking seconds, but this was the first time in weeks that she had been able to eat Seven's cooking. She had no intention of allowing any to be deposited in the recycler. "In the meantime, I freely admit that I have some catching up to do."

Seven regarded her with a soft look to her eyes. "I enjoy watching you eat," she said.

Janeway flashed her a smile and tucked into the second plateful of stirfry vegetables. This really was delicious. The rice was moist, flavored with bits of green and red spices, while the chicken and vegetables had the tangy, peppery taste that she adored. In fact, Janeway considered, she couldn't remember a single meal Seven had made that she did not like, though it was unlikely that Gretchen Janeway would have given Seven any recipes that her daughter did not enjoy.

"I know how to make the slipstream technology work."

Janeway paused, a fork full of rice midway to her mouth as she stared at Seven, the meaning of the words slowly seeping through her brain. She took a breath and lowered the fork to her plate.

"Indeed," she said quietly though in reality, she wanted to leap up and down, run wildly about the room and scream loudly.

Seven nodded. "The entire knowledge of Species 116 is now available to me," she said. "The problem I was experiencing was in trying to bolster the integrity field to counter the velocity. That was incorrect. I need to modify the field so that it works in harmony with the slipstream corridor, not counter it."

Janeway took several deep breaths, attempting to control the feelings that were rushing through her. Was it possible that this most horrible of experiences was not to be in vain? That the one thing they had gained from this was a way home?

"What's the time frame we're looking at?" she asked, her voice still remarkably calm.

"I will need to run extensive testing on the integrity fields, possibly utilizing our remaining shuttle," Seven explained. "Once that is complete, Voyager can then be adapted. I anticipate no more than three years, and perhaps only one before we are able to utilize the drive."

Janeway leaned back in her chair and folded her hands neatly on the table, perhaps to keep them from shaking. "You're saying that we'll be able to go home in three years," she said flatly. "Not sixty years, but three years."

"Possibly within one," Seven repeated.

She raised an eyebrow, and Janeway knew she was awaiting a response of some sort. The problem was, she didn't know how she should react. There were so many emotions flying through her, so much that she was experiencing this moment.

"I don't know what to say," she said softly.

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said, though there was a touch of disappointment in her tone. "Hopes have been raised before. However, I know I can adapt this technology to Voyager. This vessel will be capable of slipstream velocity once the integrity field has been successfully modified."

Janeway stood up abruptly and, after only the smallest of startled pauses, Seven immediately followed suit in time to accept the embrace coming at her, Janeway flinging her arms around the taller woman's neck and holding her tightly.

"Thank you," she whispered, face buried in the warm hollow of Seven's shoulder.

"Thank Species 116," Seven said low in her ear. "It is their technology, after all."

Janeway clung to her, trying not to break down. To know she would be standing on Earth so soon, not needing decades but only a few years to get home. To know that finally, she would get her ship and her crew back to the Alpha Quadrant and the Federation. For an instant, the responsibilities that had constantly burdened her shoulders the past five years disappeared, making her giddy and exhilarated, wanting to dance about the room and shout at the top of her lungs. Even when reality returned, the weight was still lightened, an end to her toil now in sight.

"Oh, Annika," she said, tears sliding down her face. "Oh, my love."

"It will be good to see Gretchen and Phoebe again," Seven said softly into Janeway's hair as she held the captain close. "Though I do not look forward to meeting my relatives again."

Janeway just smiled and cried harder.

Seven reluctantly let go as Janeway finally released her hold on her neck. It had been immensely satisfying to have shared this news with the captain, to see the way her eyes sparkled, the lilt in her voice as she spoke, trying very hard to be calm. Even the tears that had dampened her suit were those of joy, and to be able to do this for Kathryn after everything else was a source of great happiness to her.

Janeway sniffed and wiped her face with her palm, looking up at her with bright blue eyes.

"We need to keep this quiet for the time being," she said.

Surprised, Seven regarded her with a raised eyebrow. "I can do this," she repeated, understanding that Janeway did not want to get her crew's hopes up if it turned out to be a false alarm. Seven knew the technology could be adapted. It was just a matter of time. Very little time when compared to 60 years.

"I know," Janeway said, resting her hands on Seven's arms as she looked up at her. "There's no question that certain of the crew will have to know in order to assist you. But if it takes the maximum time, that's still three years, three years of surviving in the Delta Quadrant. We can't afford to get sloppy now that we're so close to getting home."

"'Sloppy'?"

Janeway took a breath. "This crew is not all Starfleet, darling. There are also other factors to consider. What if something else happens that prevents us from adapting the drive? What if we encounter an alien species that delays us for whatever reason? What if the ship is damaged in an encounter? We need to act as if we're here for the duration. It would be too tempting to relax, thinking that the Alpha Quadrant is now in reach. We're still alone out here and we have only ourselves to rely on. When we're ready to start adapting Voyager itself rather than just a shuttle, then we can let the entire crew in on the good news."

"All right," Seven said. She didn't know if she agreed, but Janeway was the captain. She was a very good captain. If she felt that this should remain a matter just between them and a few others, then that was how it would be.

Janeway sat down to resume her meal, eating the rest of it without any display of her former appetite. Seven knew that the older woman's mind was operating at warp speed, turning over all the implications of this. The Borg remained quiet, content to watch her partner eat and think, enjoying the way the light played on the fiery highlights in the auburn hair, the play of lithe physique under the trim Starfleet uniform.

Janeway finished the last of the meal and stood up, taking her dishes over to the disposal unit to be recycled. Seven slipped over to the counter and drew out a bottle of wine. She noted that there was only one left in the rack which cradled them and kept them safe even in the most violent of ship maneuvers. Perhaps there would be a planet in the next system that would provide some more unique distillations for Kathryn's enjoyment. The captain was no connoisseur, but she did enjoy a glass of wine after a large meal, and she had collected various bottles throughout the Delta Quadrant. The final bottle was not to be touched of course. It had been carried all the way from the Alpha Quadrant, Chateau Picard champagne intended to be opened the day they slid into Earth's orbit.

One day soon, Seven thought as she opened the other bottle, utilizing her mesh covered left hand to pry the cork from the bottle, disdaining the use of a corkscrew. She poured the liquid, a fine clear vintage from a planet ten or eleven systems back, distilled from the small blue fruit that grew under a purple tinted sky, tasting of sun and sweetness, with just a touch of tartness. At least, that was how Seven remembered it as she carried the glass into the living area where Janeway had taken a seat on the couch.

"Thank you, darling," Janeway said absently as she took the glass, eyes distant as she continued to be lost in thought.

Seven settled on the couch beside her, delighting in the small bits of routine they were starting to recreate. Of course, before she would have been sharing in the wine, but it was enough to feel Janeway lean casually against her as the captain slipped off her boots and stretched her legs out onto the coffee table. Janeway's left hand rested on the silver clad thigh, and if she concentrated, Seven could feel the warmth of it penetrate to the flesh below.

She slid her arm around Kathryn's shoulders, tilting her head to rest on the soft hair, closing her eyes as she smelled the wonderful fragrance of it, feeling the fine auburn strands tickle her face. She rested her right hand on the curve of Janeway's arm, while she entwined her left hand carefully with the one Kathryn left resting on her leg.

For an instant, it was exactly as it had been, and Seven felt a little more of herself heal deep in the innermost regions of her.

Janeway seemed to feel it as well, and she settled closer to her, taking a deep breath that was almost a purr in her chest.

"I love you," Seven whispered, feeling like she wanted to cry, and was completely unable to.

"I know," Janeway said quietly. "I love you too, darling. Always."

For the first time, Seven was able to finally, with ever fibre of her being, truly believe that unconditionally. If what she had done as One of Many had not shattered that bond, then absolutely nothing in the universe could. Not ever. As a result, Seven was filled with a contentment she had never before known.

She spent the next while listening to the woman beside her drink her wine, concentrating on the scent of her, the warmth of the body felt through the thin uniform beneath her palm. She allowed memories of the previous weeks prior to the Borg encounter to come back to her, thinking of fishing and friendship, of lessons learned and lovemaking under the stars, studiously avoiding any thought of white skinned holograms and green-tinged air.

"This will set my swimming lessons back considerably," she remarked after awhile.

Janeway made a sound, a short laugh in the back of her throat. "I imagine it will," she allowed. "You'd probably sink like a stone now." She raised Seven's hand to her lips and kissed the palm gently through the mesh.

"It is not the same, you know," Seven said.

"What isn't?"

"My abdominal implant," she clarified. "It will not look as it had before. It is different."

"Oh," Janeway said. She paused. "How long before you can remove your outfit?"

"Twenty-three days," Seven said.

Janeway made another sound. It was not a laugh this time. More like dismay. Seven could understand that. Seven wondered what celibacy would be like. Of course, before becoming lovers with Kathryn, she had always been celibate, but now she understood the difference. To have to lay next to Kathryn, but be unable to do anything about it seemed a rather unique sort of punishment, she mused. This was absolutely the last time she would accept an offer to run the Collective. She thought about that for a minute, realized it could be considered amusing, and shared it with Kathryn who laughed appropriately.

"Darling, we'll get through it," the captain assured her. "Even if all the showers I take for the next little while are cold ones."

Seven wondered about that. It occurred to her that just because she was incapacitated in terms of receiving affection, that didn't mean Kathryn was. After all, the captain seemed quite happy to be nuzzled and kissed as they cuddled on the couch though Seven made no attempt at taking it any further. Kathryn was also very loving back, making a point to kiss Seven's hands frequently, stroking her face often with gentle fingertips, apparently trying to maintain as much physical connection with her as possible.

"Sweetheart, let's go to bed," Kathryn finally murmured.

"Very well," Seven agreed, unsure as to how this would work.

While Kathryn disappeared into the ensuite for her ablutions, Seven stretched out on the bed, careful not to puncture the linens or mattress with her sharp heels. She lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling where she could see her reflection in the large mirror overhead, a long, silver streak against the deep blue of the Starfleet issued sheets. She regarded it for long moments, discontented with the suit which seemed so restrictive. Then she noted the expression on her face and smoothed it out, not wanting Kathryn to know how distressed she was.

She turned her head as Kathryn came in from the ensuite, dressed in a robe which she removed to reveal a long nightgown of a delicate peach color. Kathryn was not in the habit of wearing garments to bed, but perhaps she wished to show support to Seven by doing so. Seven took a breath as Kathryn crawled into bed next to her, pressing against her left side, resting her head on Seven's chest. Seven wrapped her left arm around her and with her right, drew up a spare blanket to throw over them. Though she did not get cold, she knew Kathryn preferred a lower temperature when she slept, wanting to be covered by the tactile sensation of a blanket. It was an idiosyncrasy that Seven was glad she could accommodate since it appeared she would be unable to do much else.

"Good night, sweetheart," Kathryn murmured as the lights were brought down to a dim illumination.

"Good night, Kathryn," Seven replied.

"You won't get bored will you?" the captain asked, a bit anxiously as if it had just occurred to her.

"I will not be bored," Seven assured her gently. "Sleep well. I will be here when you wake."

Seven listened to Kathryn's breathing slow, smoothing out to a regular rhythm though, she concluded after some time, not regular enough. Surreptitiously, she studied the face on her chest, dipping her head to get a better look. The captain's eyes were closed, but there was a tenseness about the features that simply wasn't there when Kathryn was asleep, while the body next to her held a rigidity which could not be mistaken for slumber.

"Kathryn," she said, very low in case she was mistaken. "Are you awake?"

A rueful sound came from beneath her chin. "Sorry, darling," the captain sighed. "I'm too tired to sleep, I guess."

Seven considered that statement, trying to work her way through the implied contradiction. "Do you wish me to leave?" she asked softly. "I can stay on the couch."

"No," Janeway objected promptly, squeezing her with the arm draped across Seven. "It's not you, darling. It's just ... my mind is working too much and I can't seem to get it to stop. But I do like lying here next to you."

"I like it as well," Seven said, cuddling the woman closer to her.

Seven thought hard about it, wondering what she could do. This was not the first time Kathryn had trouble sleeping though most of the time, she usually nodded off very quickly in Seven's arms. In fact, it was a semi-regular occurrence, happening approximately 28 days apart...

Seven took a slow breath. Though the traditional aftermath of unsuccessful ovulation had been altered by 24th century medical technology to be reabsorbed back into the body rather than discarded as before, the biological imperatives that governed it could not be denied. Kathryn went through it like every other Human woman on board Voyager, her bio-rhythms changing regularly with the passing of days. One day a month, she was incredibly irritable, unable to be reasoned with at all. Another day she was easily depressed, more aware of the ship being lost in the Delta Quadrant than the rest of the time.

And on one day, she was incredibly amorous, wanting nothing more than to make love, restless and fretful if she could not.

Seven did the calculations.

"I think I'll take a shower," Kathryn said softly, attempting to roll over.

Seven forestalled the motion, tightening her embrace as she drew her fingers up Kathryn's arm, slipping along the soft skin down her chest to the breast covered in peach silk. She used one fingertip to trace the little bump which immediately responded, hardening sweetly beneath her touch. She leaned over and brushed her lips over the bare shoulder.

"No need," Seven whispered. "I can take care of you."

"Annika..." Kathryn caught her breath. "You can't..."

"You cannot," Seven corrected. "However, I can. It gives me so much joy to pleasure you, Kathryn." She found Janeway's mouth, kissing her with loving passion. "Please let me give you pleasure," she whispered against her lips. "I want so much to make love to you."

Kathryn sighed and moved against her, arching into the fingers almost without conscious volition. "Are you sure, darling?" Kathryn murmured. "I'm perfectly fine without it, you know."

"I am sure," Seven told her quietly, continuing to stroke the nipple through the nightgown. "I treasure every single nano-second of being with you.  It is my greatest joy."

"Annika, you really don't have to do this," the captain whispered.

"Do you want me to stop?" Seven asked, raising an eyebrow.

There was a pause. "I wouldn't go that far," Kathryn muttered.

Seven smiled as she paused momentarily to toss aside the blanket before resuming her light stroking of Kathryn's breast through the nightgown. She kissed her lover again, slower, deeper, parting the lips beneath hers with a gentle flick of her tongue, feeling the responding caress of Kathryn's against hers, darting out to touch her lips, her teeth, tasting her desire. Kathryn's hands tangled in her hair, stroking the long, blonde tresses languidly, touching her cheeks, her jaw, unable to caress through the outfit, but wanting Seven to feel what little she could.

"Darling, you're so good to me," the captain whispered. "I love you so much."

"You are my life," Seven replied into the small ear, nuzzling it gently. "Without you, I do not live, Kathryn."

She hooked her finger under the spaghetti strap of the nightgown, and pulled it over the captain's shoulder, drawing it down until the breast was exposed to her appreciative view. Kathryn purred as Seven kissed down her neck, feeling the sound vibrate against her mouth as she traced the line of her throat. Encountering the tiny scars beneath her lips where the assimilation tubules had penetrated, Seven paused, then kissed them gently, sorrowfully, wanting only to heal them with her touch. Slowly she resumed her descent, brushing over the hard bone of chest, the skin flushed and freckled, so smooth beneath her mouth. The soft swell of breast welcomed her, and she kissed it gently, reverently, licking the warm skin as the salt-sweet flavor filled her senses. Her lips closed over the soft brown bud, firming even more as she tickled it with the tip of her tongue.

Kathryn whispered her name, running her fingertips over Seven's head, through her hair, arching up to her with a quiet, familiar pleasure. Gently, Seven pressed her down onto the bed, laying Kathryn on her back so that she could slip the other strap off the near shoulder, temporarily tying her up until the smaller woman was able to free her arms from the strings, leaving the nightgown bunched around her waist, her breasts free for Seven's skilled attentions.

Seven thought nothing could be better than this. Even when she herself was being pleasured by Kathryn, it could not compare with how she felt when she was making love to this woman she loved so dearly. Without Seven's pleasure being an issue at all, she was free to completely concentrate on Kathryn, while the captain was completely free to concentrate on what Seven was doing to her.

What Seven was doing to her was causing Kathryn to make the most lovely sounds in her throat, sounds that Seven purely adored, gasps and moans of sheer delight as the young woman trailed from one breast to the other, making sure not one millimeter of skin was left unloved. As she did, Seven ran her hands over the body through the silk material, feeling the warmth penetrate through, stroking the captain's back and sides, sliding over her stomach, then down the outside of her legs before slowly retracing her journey, only this time, sliding beneath the hem of the gown. She was delighted to discover in her journey that even in this situation, Kathryn had chosen not to wear the matching briefs.

Had Kathryn known something she hadn't, Seven wondered with a touch of amusement. Or was she just forever hopeful?

The soft, baby-smooth skin of Kathryn's inner thighs gave way to the damp heat of ready womanhood, the tips of Seven's fingers sliding easily along the moist crease, then inside it to touch the aching node that was so sensitive, making the captain cry out. She panted for breath as Seven fondled her, stroking with languid caresses, swirling her fingers gently around the little hardness in a steady motion that soon had the captain's hips rocking gently, pushing against her.   Kathryn's legs fell open to grant a more intimate access, and Seven dipped down to find the tender opening, circling it, teasing slightly as she heard Kathryn's soft moans, then, with loving strength, she penetrated her gently.

As always, Seven felt a hint of wonder as she entered Kathryn, feeling the clasp of velvet-slick walls surround her fingers, resisting a brief instant before adjusting to allow her passage. To be able to touch Kathryn so intimately, to feel the heat and wetness that welcomed her, seeming to draw her in even deeper was the greatest of pleasures, one Seven always cherished. She flexed gently, seeking that area she knew would give Kathryn the ultimate delight, finding it with sensitive fingertips that circled and pressed, creating a rhythm that sent waves of desire through the woman. She felt Kathryn undulate beneath her as she touched and stroked until finally, Seven felt her head clutched spastically to her lover's chest, the captain inadvertently pulling the blonde hair as every muscle in the older woman's body tensed, a cry issuing from her lips that combined love and passion in one inarticulate sound.

Seven stilled her fingers when the spasms finally ended, but did not withdraw. Instead, she left the breasts she had been so skillfully attending, and drifted down to the top of the abdomen, brushing her lips over the soft skin. She paused at the nightgown, now a mere band of bunched material around Kathryn's waist.

"Are you very fond of this garment?" she asked softly.

Janeway swallowed against a mouth gone dry from panting. "No, darling," she said in her lovely growl. "Go ahead."

Seven utilized her Borg enhanced left hand to part the seam of the garment neatly, pulling it from around Kathryn's waist and tossing it aside. Then she resumed her gentle roving over Kathryn's stomach, feeling the muscles contract under her lips as she moved, pausing at the navel to gently kiss it, teasing Kathryn who was exceptionally ticklish in this area.

A low, throaty laugh caressed her ears and Seven smiled before continuing down, nuzzling the thatch of auburn tangle with her nose, breathing deep the appealing scent of musk and desire that awaited her. Without hesitation, she moved lower and used her tongue to seek out that tender nodule of exquisite sensation, prodding it lightly, then lapping at it firmly, setting up a counter-rhythm to that of her fingers inside.

Seven was intrigued by the way she was able to concentrate so utterly on Kathryn. It occurred to her suddenly that before, her own physical pleasure had served as a source of distraction to her. Without it being a factor, never had she been so aware of Kathryn, of how she tasted, of her warm fragrance, of how wonderful everything felt to touch, the different textures and sensations beneath her lips and fingers. The whole universe seemed to shrink to that one area, the connection between her mouth and Kathryn's most intimate place, to her internal explorations ... of Kathryn's response, every breath, every small utterance listened to keenly and cherished utterly. Seven could not imagine anything being better than this.

Unless it was later when Kathryn finally clung to her, breath coming in sobs as the last pulsation died away and Seven slowly and lovingly released her. She rose up slightly and rested her head on Kathryn's stomach, aware of the long elegant fingers stroking her hair, her scalp, running lightly over her face. They traced her lips and she kissed the tips gently.

"Come up here," Kathryn commanded huskily.

Smiling, Seven repositioned herself until she was once more laying on her back, Kathryn snuggled against her.

"Are you all right?" Kathryn asked, a bit of anxiety coloring her tone.

"I am fine," Seven replied, holding her close. "More than fine. I adore loving you. I could do it forever."

Kathryn laughed a little. "I'm not sure I could survive that," she said softly and kissed Seven for a long time. Finally she drew away with a rueful noise. "I do like making love to you as well."

"You shall," Seven promised. "In twenty-three days."

"I'll mark it on my calendar," Kathryn smiled.

"In the meantime," Seven assured. "It is enough for me to be with you. It is more than I could have expected, and everything I could ever want or need."

"Oh, darling," Kathryn sighed and hugged her tightly.

Seven drew up the discarded blanket, making sure it was wrapped warmly around the captain and drew the head down to her shoulder. She felt Kathryn settle deeper against her, and within minutes, she knew another type of satisfaction as the captain surrendered to her drowsiness, head and body suddenly heavy against her.

Lying on her back, looking at their reflection in the mirror above her head, Seven thought she had discovered utter perfection. Lying snuggled against her left side and snoring gently.

Janeway woke with a cool silken smoothness beneath her cheek, one that pulsed gently in a steady throb. Seven's heartbeat, she identified happily, drowsily, eyes still closed against the lights brought up to signify morning watch. The suit she was lying against was nowhere as wonderful as the warm flesh would have been, but just its presence was more than she had experienced in too long, and she was more than satisfied to snuggle closer to it, running her hands over the smooth abdomen, inter-spaced with regular bands of hardness beneath the material, tracing the sharp little ridges with her fingertips.

Fingers raked gently through her hair, and the captain remembered that Seven would have spent the whole night awake, the function of her implants replacing the physical need for sleep.

"Good morning, darling," she murmured, stretching luxuriously against the woman as she smiled  at her.

"Good morning, Kathryn," Seven replied calmly, eyes shining softly. "You slept well. No nightmares?"

"No, only pleasant dreams," Janeway assured her, rising up enough to be able to peer fondly down into Seven's narrow features. "You were in all of them," she noted.

"Indeed," Seven replied and reached up to touch Janeway's cheek, stroking it lightly.

"Was it terribly tedious for you?" Janeway asked. "Watching me sleep?"

"Being with you is never tedious," Seven told her firmly. "I was able to work for several hours."

Janeway glanced over, seeing several padds lying on the night stand next to the bed. Seven must have risen in the night to retrieve them before resuming her silent vigil next to her. "I must have been really tired not to have noticed that," she said with surprise.

"You were," Seven responded. She tilted Janeway's head toward her, and the captain smiled briefly as she felt the tender lips of her lover brush over hers, lightly at first, then with deeper intensity.

She made a small sound of regret. "I have duty," she whispered regretfully when Seven finally released her mouth.

"Unfortunate," Seven noted, her hand slowing and gentling its stroking of Janeway's back and side. She dipped her head to look into Janeway's eyes. "I wish to return to duty myself."

Janeway sighed and rested her forehead against Seven's. "I'll see that you're reinstated," she said. "You'll have to receive clearance from the Doctor first, however. I'll go with you, if you'd like."

"No," Seven said. "I can convince him I am fit for duty." She paused. "I wish to see B'Elanna and others as well."

"B'Elanna really wanted to see you," Janeway said, regret stabbing through her. "I had to make it an order that she maintain her distance from sickbay. A very strict order."

"Indeed," Seven said evenly, but her eyes brightened considerably. Clearly she was pleased to know that her friend had not stayed away willingly.

How could we have been so blind? Janeway thought dismally. How much damage do we do insisting we know what's best for others?

Seven seemed to know what she was thinking and Janeway felt her arm tighten around her comfortingly. "Do not waste time regretting what cannot be changed," the young woman told her quietly. "You taught me that."

"Maybe I need to be as good a pupil as you," Janeway admitted. "Unfortunately, I'm a stubborn woman."

"However, you are my woman," Seven said.

Janeway laughed, startled by the sentiment. "I am," she agreed. "Completely and totally." She made a move to roll out of bed, was forestalled by Seven who did not release her embrace.

"Stay with me," Seven requested lightly, but with a hint of seriousness lacing the playful demand. "Just a little longer."

"As long as you want," Janeway responded promptly. She pressed against Seven, surrendering easily to the desire to be with her rather than pull on her uniform. It was a frightening, but not unpleasant sensation to need someone this much, she thought. She could afford to indulge it a few moments more. Or even, she decided as Seven kissed her, a few hours more.

"I have to tell the bridge I'll be late," she said when the kiss had finally ended.

"You will?" There was a note of surprise in Seven's voice.

"You are the most important thing in the universe to me," Janeway told her gravely. "If you need me to be with you now, then that's where I'm going to be."

Seven looked uncertain. "You need to attend to your duties," she said.

"Is that what you want?" Janeway asked. "Or what you think you should say?"

Seven paused, searching her face. "I want to be with you," she admitted finally.

"Then we'll spend the day together," Janeway decided instantly. She raised her voice. "Computer, log me as unavailable this day due to personal priority."

"So logged," the feminine voice of the computer responded evenly.

"Are you still the captain?" Seven said, looking at her with wide eyes.

Janeway laughed as she realized what Seven was thinking, that she could take time off so easily because she had not resumed her duties. "Don't worry, Chakotay seemed more than willing to return Voyager to me," she assured her. "I guess he thinks being a first officer is easier than running the ship."

"I am unsurprised in his confidence in you," Seven said. "But still gratified. I know what being captain means to you."

Janeway sobered a little, staring into those fine features. "You do, don't you?" she said quietly. "Still, you're my first priority, Annika. If the ship needs me, I'm there, but I've come to realize that being with you is more important than doing reports, or any other duty that can easily wait until tomorrow. It took me a long time to understand a relationship is worth more than a career, and it's a lesson I intend to take to heart."

"Thank you," Seven said after a moment of searching for something to reply with. Janeway knew that the younger woman considered that an inadequate response, but to the older woman, it meant the world. Seven only fell back on the simple polite statement when her vocabulary, which was now quite extensive, failed her utterly ... as it did whenever she was profoundly moved or overwhelmed by emotion.

"You are very welcome," Janeway said, smiling. "Now, what would you like to do today? Keeping in mind that you have to spend a few hours regenerating in your alcove."

Seven blinked. "I think I want to make love to you," she said.

Janeway smiled. "That would be wonderful," she admitted. "But darling, I hate for you to feel ... unsatisfied."

Seven shook her head. "I thought you understood," she said. "I have such limited sensation beneath my outfit that I do not become aroused."

"But I believe sensuality is as much a mental and emotional thing as it is a physical thing," Janeway argued softly. "I find it difficult to believe that you feel nothing when you make love to me."

"I do feel something," Seven protested. "I feel great pleasure, but not the sort I feel when you are making love to me. I have no ... urgency. My pleasure is in loving you. I do not need anything more at this time."

Janeway thought about that. It bothered her that Seven seemed to be more on the giving than receiving end of things, but  perhaps she was assuming things again. Perhaps it was just as Seven was telling her, that her pleasure was being derived just from being with her. Who was she to insist that Seven feel deprived and frustrated when clearly she didn't? Perhaps Janeway should just accept things as they were and be glad of it. Hadn't she promised herself that she wouldn't make people adapt to how she thought things should be anymore?

"All right," she allowed. "When you can remove the outfit, however, I'm going to spend several evenings attending to only your pleasure."

"That would be acceptable," Seven agreed. She regarded Janeway evenly. "Can you tell me why this bothers you?"

Janeway sighed and rested her head on Seven's chest. "I guess I feel selfish," she said slowly, trying to explain so that her partner would understand. "It makes me feel like your pleasure is being ignored for the sake of mine."

"Like males sometimes do?" Seven raised an eyebrow.

Startled, Janeway propped herself up on her elbow so she could look into Seven's face. "What does that mean?" she asked.

"I have retained the memories of your experiences with men," Seven replied evenly. "I now know the difference between how males made love to you, and how I do."

Janeway took a breath. What unexplored territory was this getting into and was she going to like it at all?

"And?" she countered.

Seven looked thoughtful. "Your first encounter with ... Cheb Packer? The initial experience seemed less than adequate," she said. "I am surprised you ever attempted a second experience."

Janeway tried not to groan. This was not going to be an easy discussion. Maybe she should have just let Seven make love to her and kept her big mouth shut. When would she learn?

"When you're young, hormones get the best of you sometimes," Kathryn tried to explain. "I was in love with him so the fact that the experience wasn't ... all that it could be ... was irrelevant."

"He was so inept," Seven responded. She seemed outraged, mostly on Kathryn's behalf. "He did not even notice that you did not achieve orgasm. Or for that matter, particularly enjoy yourself. It was actually painful for you at times, and he didn't seem to care."

"He was young, Seven," Janeway said, smiling. "Honestly, darling, the first explorations into sexual expression aren't expected to be that tremendous."

"Mine were," Seven responded promptly. "You were everything I could have imagined, gentle, caring, loving and very skilled."

"All right," Janeway allowed, swallowing a smile and trying not to preen as she did. Really, she didn't need to feel that smug about it. "But will you admit that as we grow closer emotionally, and get to know each other better, our lovemaking has correspondingly improved?"

"Of course," Seven admitted. "Yet, I do not think you would have ever achieved that with him. He was so bad at it."  Her tone was so laden with condescension that Janeway was hard-pressed not to laugh.

"I'm sure he got better," she said instead. "I do know I did."

"Well," Seven said grudgingly, "your other lovers were an improvement as far as their abilities to please you were concerned."

"Are we going to go through the list?" Janeway asked dryly.

"You only had two more," Seven said. She eyed Janeway narrowly. "That is not a lot for a Human female of your age bracket, is it?"

Janeway blushed and couldn't figure out why she did. Honestly, the discussions she got into with her partner sometimes. She couldn't even distract her this time by making a pass at her, which was her favorite way of diverting Seven's choice of topic. Judging from the intent look in Seven's expression, she was thoroughly engrossed in this conversation. It would take some doing to get her off it.

"Why is this so important to you?" Janeway asked.

"I assumed from what B'Elanna had told me that there was something lacking in how I made love to you," Seven explained readily. "Now I wonder if perhaps it is she who is lacking. After all, males seem to have a great deal of difficulty finding that area inside you that makes you utter that wonderful high-pitched sound whenever I concentrate on it, nor do they seem to be as willing to spend hours utilizing their mouth to---"

"Annika," Janeway interrupted at this point, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "I fully agree that you are the most attentive and focused lover I have ever had. Can you be content with that?"

"Yes," Seven agreed. "However, if you miss the penetration of a male, the accessories can successfully mimic it. I have more knowledge of how such a thing would work and can easily utilize it in the proper fashion now."

"If that's what I require," Janeway said mildly. "I'll let you know, all right?"

Seven was silent for a moment, studying her closely. "All right," she agreed, but Janeway could tell it was more because she had decided the captain didn't want to discuss it than because she had fully explored this topic to her own satisfaction. Which meant she would probably be speaking with B'Elanna about it.

Janeway sighed.

"Darling," she said. "Do you really want to use an accessory?"

Seven looked thoughtful. "Perhaps someday," she allowed. "It would be intriguing to experiment with such a thing."

"Then we'll try it," Janeway said, hoping that she wasn't getting herself into such deep water she couldn't get out of it. "In the meantime, I would prefer if you limit your conversation about this to just between us."

Seven dipped her head. "You do not wish me to discuss this with B'Elanna," she guessed.

"No," Janeway admitted. "I don't mind you talking to her in abstract terms, but I'd prefer to keep private the personal details of our love life."

Seven nodded. "I understand," she said. She paused. "In truth, the personal details tend to make B'Elanna uncomfortable. She displays indications of dismay whenever I give an extensive explanation of our lovemaking."

"Oh, she does," Janeway said, raising an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

Seven frowned. "I do not know," she said. She looked at Janeway hopefully. "Perhaps you could speculate?"

Janeway snorted. "I'm not sure it's a good idea that I do," she said. "My guess, however, would be that B'Elanna is not as widely experienced as she likes to pretend."

Seven blinked. "You mean she has never made love with a female?" she said, the astonishment so evident in her tone that Janeway snickered.

"Darling, until you, neither had I," she pointed out.

Seven considered that. "I have never made love with a male," Seven said. "Are we an accurate representation of our respective ages and backgrounds?"

"I don't know," Janeway replied easily. "Tell me, have you developed an scientific interest in this, Annika or just a prurient one?"

"Scientific, of course," Seven said, vaguely offended.

Janeway nodded. "All right, then I'm sure you can widen your research from Voyager's data banks," she said. "Particularly under Exobiology. That should open your eyes. Now, if it were the other, I'd advise you check the entertainment section of the recreation data banks. Look under Human Sexuality. All your questions could be answered there."

Seven looked disappointed. "It is more entertaining discussing it with you," she said. "Or B'Elanna."

"I'm sure it is," Janeway said, a half-grin touching the corner of her mouth. "But I have a confession to make, Annika."

"What is that?" Seven asked, eyes widening as she regarded Janeway with intent interest.

"I'd rather be doing it than talking about it."

Seven looked startled, then slowly, a smile touched her full lips as she realized what Janeway was really saying. She ran her hands over Janeway's back, pulling her down onto her. "I believe I prefer that as well," she said.

"So long as we're in agreement," Janeway said, snuggling into the warm embrace, arching a little as Seven began to seek out those places that caused her to make all sorts of sounds, high-pitched, low-pitched and every level in between.

"Yes," Seven responded. "I like being in agreement with you."

"Darling, you are everything I could ever want or need," Janeway murmured against the soft lips tracing her own. "Please, don't ever doubt that."

"I will not," Seven whispered back. She shifted a little so that they were on their sides. "Kathryn, I do love you."

"That's very good," Janeway said. She entwined her arms tightly about her lover's neck, feeling the silken material of Seven's suit slide over her skin with languid pleasure. "Because I love you. Completely, utterly, with my whole heart and with absolutely no regrets ever."

Seven just smiled and kissed her.

Epilogue

B'Elanna Torres regarded Seven of Nine with raised eyebrows. Or was it One of Many? The Klingon had perused the official logs, speculated wildly on the personal ones, and heard every rumor that had sprung from Seven and the captain's encounter with the Borg. Not to mention gaining every scrap of information she could squeeze out of her friend, and she still couldn't quite get over it. That Janeway would take on the Borg Collective and wrest the love of her life out of their control, bringing them to their knees at the same time ... well, it was just absolutely the most romantic thing the Klingon had ever heard. Though she would die a thousand deaths before ever admitting to that.

She wondered if Chakotay would ever have done such a thing for her? She had the uncomfortable feeling that she really didn't want to ever find out the answer to that.

Now, it was apparent that there was a lot more to it than even she had imagined.

"Slipstream," she said, her tone heavy with disbelief, eyes wide as she regarded the Borg. "We're going to switch Voyager over to slipstream?"

"Yes," Seven said in a low voice.

Though the outfit and the manner was back to where Seven had been when she had first come on board, the demeanor was different, as certainly B'Elanna's attitude toward the woman was. The two women were standing on the catwalk surrounding the warp core above the engine room deck and B'Elanna spared a glance around to make sure no one was paying attention to their conversation.

"We'll be back in the Alpha Quadrant in three years?"

"Possibly as soon as one," Seven added calmly.

B'Elanna grabbed the Borg's forearm, gripping it tightly as she attempted not to howl with exhilaration. "Do you know what this means?" she hissed.

"That you are attempting to fracture my ulna?" Seven suggested coolly.

B'Elanna let go of Seven's arm as if burned, and grabbed her by the shoulders, staring intently into her eyes.

"If you're lying to me," B'Elanna said with great sincerity. "I will rip your lungs out through your nostrils."

"That would be ... unpleasant," Seven allowed. "I assure you it is the truth. However, the captain wishes it to remain just between us for the time being. I am sharing this with you only because I will need your assistance to modify the shuttle."

"We'll have to run all the preliminary tests in the holodeck," B'Elanna said, dropping her arms and walking away, already lost in the engineering problem lying before her. She darted a glance back at Seven who remained impassive. "It won't be easy to keep this secret."

"No," Seven said. "However, Kathryn said that since you are the biggest 'rumor-monger' on the ship, it was imperative that you be brought into our confidence as soon as possible so that you would know how important it is to keep this quiet."

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "Oh, she did," she said. "What does she think? That I'm a gossip?"

"I believe that is exactly what she thinks," Seven agreed readily. "She also believes that you spend too much time worrying about our sex life. She asked me to inform you not to speak of 'sexual toys' with me anymore."

"Oh yeah?" B'Elanna said. She paused, eyeing Seven narrowly, then seemed to come to some sort of internal decision.  "Seven, have we ever talked about fur lined cuffs and leather straps?"

"I do not believe so," Seven said uncertainly. "Are they 'toys'?"

"Oh no," B'Elanna said, grinning evilly. "They're not toys."

She slipped her arm around Seven's shoulders and began to explain how wonderfully pleased Janeway would be if Seven could only manage to 'surprise' her.

Some night soon.

The End

•  This is the 7th in the Just Between series. It was written and posted prior to the beginning of the fifth season, around the last half of September, 1998.

• To my beta readers who helped me with this prior to posting, my eternal appreciation.

• This was originally called Just Between Then & Now.  This title is more appropriate.

Just Between Realities
G. L. Dartt

Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager sat quietly in sickbay, determined not to fidget as she glanced through the windows of the office to the fluctuation of opaque force shields surrounding the bio-bed where the Doctor was examining one of her crewmembers. It was not standard procedure for the captain to stand by as one of her crewmembers underwent a medical examination but then, this person was far from being just a mere crewmember to her.

Annika Hansen had been six years old when she was assimilated by the Borg, and spent eighteen years in the Collective as a drone, designated as Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01. Voyager's captain was not sure exactly what that title had meant other than the fact that Seven was the drone assigned to work with her when she had been forced to temporarily ally herself with the Federation's greatest enemy. A wild series of events had culminated with the ship being flung out of Borg space, leaving Seven of Nine severed from the Collective, and abruptly part of Janeway's crew.

Seven's adaptation to joining Voyager had been fraught with complications, not the least of which was her and the captain falling in love. Recently, the Collective had come looking for their missing drone, and though Janeway had managed to sever Seven from the Borg yet again, both women were still feeling the repercussions of it. Seven's physical return to Humanity had been set back tremendously, and she had spent the last month wearing a silvery, skin-tight bio-suit which could not be removed while her body healed from the many surgeries required to detach various metallic implants from her systems.

The force shields suddenly flickered and went down, revealing a tall, slender woman with narrow features and blonde hair done up in an austere bun. She still sported gray metallic devices around her left eye and on her right cheek, as well as a fibrous mesh covering her left hand. A silver biosuit hugged Seven of Nine's well proportioned body, tracing the abdominal ridging which bracketed her torso like an old style corset. Janeway tried to get a sense of what was going on from the Borg's expression as the Doctor and Seven joined her in the office, but the young woman's ice blue eyes gave no indication what to expect as she sat down in the chair next to the captain.

The sparse, trim figure of the Doctor, dressed in the blue and black uniform of Starfleet Medical made himself comfortable in the chair behind the large desk. It was a rather unnecessary conceit since he was actually an Emergency Medical Hologram who had little need of comfort. Still, his program had been in almost constant activation since being lost in the Delta Quadrant, and as a result, he had achieved a certain sort of sentience which displayed itself in a multitude of ways.

"I have some good news, and I have some bad news," he told the captain with a thin smile.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Go ahead," she prompted.

"Seven's physical regeneration is progressing at a considerably accelerated rate compared to the last time," he explained. "As a result, I have to remove her abdominal implant much sooner than anticipated."

Janeway nodded. "And the bad news?"

"That was the 'bad news'," Seven said, nudging her with an elbow.

Startled, Janeway looked at her partner, frowning. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor took a deep breath, though of course, that was pure dramatics on his part. He did not need to breathe, after all. "Seven's body has undergone severe trauma by being assimilated a second time. She simply can't afford to ever be assimilated again," he warned. "Unfortunately, she's not where she should be for me to be removing the implant so soon, but the fact is, the implant is already starting to be rejected. You know as well as I do, how difficult the last operation was."

Unconsciously, Janeway reached over to entwine her fingers with Seven's left hand, though her face remained calm. "How bad is this?"

"I could die," Seven offered casually. "In fact, the odds are very good that I shall."

The Doctor looked at the Borg sardonically as Janeway felt all the blood drain from her head. "And people think I have a bad bedside manner," he accused Seven dryly. He shifted his attention to the captain, raising his brows in alarm as he saw her face. "Captain, are you all right?"

"What are you telling me exactly?" Janeway responded faintly.

The Doctor favored Seven with a reproving look. "Contrary to my patient's lack of faith in my abilities," he said acidly to the captain. "I believe I can successfully remove the implant a second time. I won't lie to you, it's a serious operation, especially since she has undergone so many intrusive medical procedures recently. However, I have the benefit of having a far more experienced Sek assisting me, and the repetition of it will make for a much quicker operation. In truth, the odds are about the same for Seven as they were the first time. Obviously she survived that quite nicely."

Janeway glanced at Seven who looked back, raising an eyebrow, looking completely unrepentant for scaring her partner. "What exactly is the good news?"

A small smile touched the full lips of the younger woman. "I can now remove my biometric outfit," she said with a certain amount of satisfaction. "Particularly when I go to bed."

Janeway frowned. Though Seven adored making love to the captain, and was not restrained by the biometric outfit in doing so whenever and wherever she had the opportunity, it had truly started to bother Janeway that she could not return such physical affection. After much discussion and a few tears ... mostly on Seven's part ... it had been decided that they would remain celibate until Seven could once again be an equal partner in their intimacy. However, sex was the last thing on Janeway's mind, and she thought it was a little immature of Seven to be more concerned about it than her upcoming surgery.

"How soon can the operation be scheduled?" she asked, looking back to the Doctor.

"Tomorrow morning," he replied. He looked at Seven. "However, there's no harm in waiting a few days."

"Yes," Seven nodded in agreement. "That would be acceptable."

"Seven, if the Doctor thinks it would be best to do it tomorrow, then that's what should be done," Janeway said firmly before the Doctor could reply.

The blonde woman looked at her oddly. "I wish to spend a few days with you," she said. "We can---"

"I don't want to delay this any more than we have to," Janeway interrupted. "Tomorrow morning, you will undergo the procedure."

Seven looked stubborn, but she had promised not to argue with the tone Janeway had just interjected into her voice when other crewmembers were in the area, so the younger woman remained quiet. She continued to do so as they left the office and made their way back to their quarters. Janeway eyed her briefly as she crossed the living area, shrugging out of her uniform tunic, and tossing it through the bedroom door where it landed on the bed.

"Are you frightened about tomorrow?" she asked Seven, who busied herself at the replicator.

"No," Seven said shortly as she materialized several food items.

Janeway raised an eyebrow at the tone. "Are you angry about something?" she asked.  She went over and perched on the stool by the counter of Seven's work space, watching as the Borg  prepared dinner with an excessive amount of clanging and banging of the various utensils and containers.

"Yes," Seven responded, and favored her with a dark look.

"Why?" Janeway asked, frowning faintly.  She poured herself a glass of wine from an open bottle which Seven placed on the counter with an audible thud.  The captain hoped the sediment at the bottom had not been unduly disturbed.

"Your behavior," Seven said flatly, and proceeded to chop up the defenseless vegetables with unnecessary vigor.

Janeway paused in raising her wineglass, looking at her partner with astonishment. "My behavior?"

Seven terminated her chopping, and stared balefully at her. "Who are you to decide when I have an operation? It's my body. I should be the one to decide," she said furiously.

Janeway blinked, honestly confused. "Seven, you don't delay something like this."

"It was my decision," Seven insisted. "You have no right to treat me like a child."

The captain took a breath. "I was unaware that was how I was treating you," she said, schooling her voice to patience. "What specifically are you angry about?"

"You didn't even listen to what I was saying in the Doctor's office," Seven said. "I wished to delay the operation a few days. There was no harm in it and the Doctor and I had already discussed it. Yet, you went ahead and ordered him to perform it anyway, in total disregard of how I felt."

Janeway set her glass carefully down on the counter. "Annika, you are also a member of my crew," she said firmly. "In certain situations, I have to do what's best for you as that crewmember. The sooner you have the operation, the sooner you'll be in recovery."

"Or the sooner I'll be dead," Seven snapped. "Is that what you want?"

Janeway stared at her, and Seven abruptly looked stricken, as if she couldn't believe what had just come out of her mouth.

"I think we need a moment here," Janeway said distantly, having felt the words slam into her like a blow to the very pit of her stomach.

"I agree," Seven said. She put down her knife and gazed at her hands as if she had never seen them before.

Janeway nodded. She walked away from the counter over to the windows which dominated the living area. Through the transparent aluminum, she could see the stars seeming to streak by as the ship traveled through space, their twinkling light distorted by the warp field surrounding the vessel. In the glassy reflection, she saw Seven move around the counter and come up behind her, though the Borg did not try to touch her.

"I am sorry, Kathryn," she said softly.

Janeway took a breath. "I accept that," she said calmly, though she was far from calm inside. "I would like to know what prompted you to say it, however."

Seven shook her head. "I am angry," she replied. "It upset me that you were so dominating in the Doctor's office. You are often domineering, but now it bothers me. However, I know you would never wish me harm. It was wrong for me to say such a thing."

"I'm not trying to dominate you, Annika," Janeway said slowly, turning to face her. "That's not my intention."

"Yet, you do," Seven said. "Furthermore, you use your rank to justify it. I am not just your crewmember, I am your partner. I am also an individual, and I must decide what is best for me."

"Delaying the operation serves no purpose," Janeway protested weakly.

"When I have the operation is irrelevant," Seven said with emphasis. "This is about you deciding when I do. It should be me making the decision, or us discussing it and deciding together, not you simply ordering me to undergo it."

Janeway nodded briefly. "All right," she said slowly. "I can see where you would interpret what occurred in the Doctor's office as me being presumptuous, but I thought that's why you wanted me with you. To help you decide."

"To help me, yes. To decide for me, no. I wanted you with me for support only," Seven said. She moved closer until she was a mere handbreadth away, though she still didn't reach out. "Kathryn, you insist that I should be independent, yet at the same time, you keep insisting that my independence has limits."

"Independence does have limits," Janeway said quietly. She could feel the warmth radiating from Seven standing so close, and her expression softened as she looked up into Seven's serious face. "However, you're right," she admitted with difficulty. "Sometimes I try putting limitations on you that I have no right to. Sometimes I also disregard the fact that you're perfectly capable of making up your own mind, but I never intended to hurt you."

Seven nodded. "I know," she said. "I did not mean to hurt you either, by saying what I did. It was unacceptable of me."

Janeway rested her hands on Seven's biceps, wrapping her long fingers around the slender muscles. "Sometimes things just get said in the heat of the moment," she allowed gently. "I am a little worried, however. Do you think you will die, Annika? Are you afraid of that?"

"It is a possibility," Seven said, reaching up to grip Janeway's elbows. "I do not think tomorrow will be a good day to die."

There was something in the cadence of the phrase that tipped Janeway off. "You've been speaking with B'Elanna about this, haven't you?" Janeway asked, trying not to be annoyed.

B'Elanna Torres was Voyager's chief engineer, a Klingon/Human hybrid whose feisty personality made for an interesting contrast to the cool, restrained Seven. The two young women had become friends after some initial antagonism, and now the engineer was Seven's closest confidant. B'Elanna was also completely opposite Janeway in demeanor and attitude so sometimes, Seven found herself being pulled in two directions, influenced by two very strong personalities.

"We have been discussing it recently," Seven admitted. "I do not know if I am ready to go to Sto-Vo-Kor."

Janeway slid her arms around Seven's waist even as the younger woman wrapped her up in a warm embrace. "Annika," she said, looking into the pale eyes intently. "You are not going to die. You didn't last time, you're not going to this time."

"On the contrary," Seven corrected, frowning briefly. "There was the situation last time when my respiratory and circulatory systems shut down. It is entirely possible I used up all my 'luck' then."

Janeway took a breath, forcing herself to be patient. "Darling, there's no such thing as luck," she said. "Just the Doctor's skill and your strength which are immense. I have complete confidence in both of you. And what makes you think you'll end up in Sto-Vo-Kor anyway?"

"I could be considered a warrior," Seven said, vaguely offended.

Janeway smiled. "Yes, you are," she said. "However, Sto-Vo-Kor is a Klingon belief. You're not a Klingon."

"B'Elanna says that doesn't make any difference," Seven said. "Sto-Vo-Kor seems a great deal more interesting that the 'heaven' ventured by most Human faiths." She paused, studying the captain intently. "What do you think happens after you die?"

Janeway hesitated. "I'm not sure," she responded carefully. "I do believe in an afterlife. I remember, during our third year here, I came in contact with an entity that pretended to be the spirit of my father. I knew it wasn't really him, but not because I thought the essence of my father had stopped existing once he died. However, I have no concrete theory to offer you, darling." She frowned as she regarded Seven. "You're not going to die," she added in an irrefutable tone.

A small smile quirked Seven's lips. "Is that an order, Captain?" she asked.

"Yes, it is," Janeway stated firmly. She hugged her fiercely. "I don't know why you're so occupied with dying, Annika, but I really want you to stop and concentrate on living instead. On getting through your operation and being back at my side as soon as possible. All right?"

"Very well," Seven said. She kissed the top of Janeway's head. "Will you stop making all my decisions for me?"

Janeway sighed. "I promise to try," she allowed.

It was the third day of Seven's recovery. Like the previous surgery, there had been a few dicey moments, but she came through it fine, and her experience in recovery the last time had granted her a new patience while being immobilized. Unfortunately, Voyager's crew had become entangled with some passing aliens, an encounter which provided some dicey moments of its own, completely occupying Captain Janeway's attention and keeping her from sickbay. Seven merely sighed and forced herself to adapt, filling the time by working on her slipstream project.

Seven wondered if this was what becoming mature was all about. The last time she had been incapacitated in this fashion, she had felt lost and alone, even when Janeway had been in sickbay with her, afraid of how she would look, and what the results would be. Now, if Kathryn didn't have a chance to visit, Seven was still secure in her love, knowing that Janeway was thinking of her, and calling her on her comm badge whenever the captain had a spare moment. Seven did worry briefly about Janeway's safety, but she had received Tuvok's personal assurance he would keep a special eye on her during this time. Seven had complete confidence in his abilities, as well as knowing Janeway's unique talent for coming out on top no matter what, so the Borg found it easier not to be concerned. After all, Janeway had stared down the Borg Collective itself. A few aliens trying to board their vessel and cause havoc was hardly anything to get excited about.

Seven regarded her reflection in the mirror. Her new outfit was blue with gray sleeves, in shades that reminded her remarkably of her partner's marvelous eyes. It fell sleek and trim over her newly regenerated torso, pressing tight over nerve endings that literally sang with sensitivity. She rotated, peering over her shoulder to see as much of the back as she could before once more facing the glass.

"I trust it is to your satisfaction," the Doctor remarked as he watched her preen in front of the mirror.

"Yes, it is acceptable," Seven said, nodding. "I especially like the color. It is the exact shade of Kathryn's eyes when she is most happy."

Behind her, thinking himself unseen but clearly visible in the reflection, he made a face. "That was not exactly what I was intending," he admitted dryly.

"Nonetheless," Seven responded, amused. "That is why I most appreciate it."

"Well, as long as you like it," he said, dismissing the whole thing with a wave of his hand. "You still have the brown one as well, just for variety."

She turned and faced him squarely, the gray implant which framed her left eye glinting metallically in the fluorescent lights of sickbay. "Thank you, Doctor," she said.

"Just try not to get assimilated anymore," he grumped, arms crossed over his chest. "I spend hours removing those implants and you promptly accumulate more. It's becoming tedious."

"I shall endeavor to avoid it in the future," she responded seriously.

Picking up the padds where she had recorded most of her work, she left sickbay and headed for the astrometrics lab. It was 1400 hours and the alpha shift had not yet ended. Janeway, according to the computer, was still on the bridge negotiating with the local inhabitants of the system to return their people to them. Criminals that the system did not really want but nonetheless, would end up acquiring because Seven knew Kathryn certainly didn't want them either.

She finished out the shift and returned to her quarters where she found Janeway stretched out on the couch, arms crossed over her eyes. Immediately concerned, she crossed the room and knelt beside the reclined woman.

"Kathryn?" she asked, suddenly uncertain. Perhaps all her confidence in Janeway's indestructibility had been misguided after all.

"Annika?" Janeway seemed dazed as she sat up. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in sickbay."

"I completed my recovery a few hours ago," Seven said, sitting on the couch beside her and gathering her up in her arms. "What is wrong?"

Janeway groaned and closed her eyes, leaning against Seven tiredly. "I must have lost track of the days," she said. "I thought this was only the second day since your operation. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I was planning to go and see you, but I thought I'd take a moment to lie down."

"It is acceptable," Seven said soothingly, rubbing her back gently. She knew Janeway's 'moments' when she hadn't been sleeping. "I know that you have been busy with the Nillerha. Did they accept the transfer of their prisoners?"

"Mmmm," the captain replied drowsily. "They didn't want them, but I finally made them take them."

As if there had been any doubt, Seven noted.

"When did you last sleep?" she asked.

"Not counting five minutes ago? When did I see you last?"

Seven stifled a sound of exasperation. That had been the morning of the operation, four days earlier. "Kathryn, you must look after yourself when I cannot," she said firmly. "When did you last eat?"

"What day is it again?"

"This is not amusing," Seven said with annoyance, hearing the smile in the captain's voice.

"Well, I guess I'm not as good at looking after me as you are," Janeway remarked, snuggling closer to Seven. Her hands were busy probing the Borg's torso through the outfit, apparently to see if the implant was indeed gone. "How are you feeling?"

"I am fine," Seven said. "However, you are tired. I am taking you to bed."

"Wonderful, I thought you'd never ask," Janeway mumbled.

Seven knew the captain didn't quite know what she was doing or saying, so she ignored the hands roaming over her body as she picked Janeway up, and carried her into the bedroom. Once there, she dumped her on the bed, and began to strip off the wrinkled and somewhat dusty uniform.

What had the captain been doing? Seven wondered as she tossed the garment aside. Janeway obligingly crawled under the covers, then reached out for Seven.

"Come to bed," Janeway demanded with only the slightest crack of command in her tone. Seven saw fit to ignore it.

"I am not tired," she responded reasonably.

"Neither am I," Janeway replied, before falling asleep in mid-leer.

Seven smiled and pulled the blankets up over her partner, pausing to regard her fondly for a few moments.  Then she kissed the captain gently on the temple before returning to the living room and her desk where she brought up her slipstream project. As she set to work, she analyzed the past hour and her interaction with the captain. Just when she had despaired of Janeway ever accepting her as a completely equal partner, she found herself taking care of her as if she were a child. Seven came to the conclusion that perhaps relationships were not always equal. That sometimes one partner played the dominant role at different times. It was quite a revelation and she made a mental note to discuss it both with Kathryn when she woke, and with B'Elanna the next time she saw her.

While Janeway seemed to be dominant most of the time, Seven allowed that there were a great many situations when the captain acceded to her wishes. She realized the argument they had indulged in the night before her operation might have been somewhat selfish on her part. Perhaps she had just been a little frightened at the thought of the operation after all, and had taken it out on Kathryn. It was unfair, but not without precedent. She knew there were times when she and Kathryn argued, when what they were fighting about was not the actual issue. It was just hard to figure out what the issue was sometimes when emotion took over, and did not allow for proper analytical assessment.

She added a few more quads of data to her console, and regarded the result with satisfaction. They could begin working on the shuttle now, adapting it to the slipstream technology she had assimilated during her time as One of Many. Once the shuttle had made a successful transition, proving that the drive could be coupled with Starfleet technology, and hull integrity would still be maintained, then they could begin work on Voyager herself.

Then they would be home.

Seven paused as that thought crossed her mind. Home. She tasted it silently, looked at the word, the concept, from all angles with inward eyes. Once she had been in the Alpha Quadrant, meeting both her own distant relatives, and Kathryn's family before returning to the Delta Quadrant. It had been a unique experience and where before, Seven had been completely ambivalent about returning to the Alpha Quadrant, now she was as anxious as any of Voyager's crew to return. Her recent assimilation had given her the key to making it happen and she tried to imagine how it would be to finally return to the Federation.

She wondered what would happen to her once they did. She knew that she would do everything in her power to stay with Kathryn, but she contemplated where and how they would live. Would Kathryn remain with Voyager or would she have a different ship? Would Seven be allowed to accompany her on such or would she be required to go through the Academy and join Starfleet? Would they stay with Gretchen, Kathryn's mother, when they first returned or would they make their own living quarters elsewhere?  What of their status as a couple?  Would they be officially married by then or would they wait until their families could attend the wedding?  What of children?

So many questions, with no real way to answer them until they actually returned. Seven realized that she had never speculated when she was with the Collective, never wondered what might be. This was a particularly Human quality, and she decided she liked it. It made her feel happy inside, though she readily understood that speculating on negative outcomes, could make her correspondingly unhappy. It amazed her that she could experience emotions based on what might happen as easily as what actually did happen.

She shut down her board and went into the bedroom, entering the ensuite in order to prepare for bed. Janeway had not commented on her new outfit, but then, Seven suspected that her partner hadn't really noticed it, so she swallowed her disappointment and recycled the suit for the next morning. She paused a moment before the large mirror overlooking the sink to study her renewed form, regarding  the flat, muscled stomach and navel with a keen objectivity, deciding that the Doctor had done an equally efficient job this time.  She rotated, trying to see as much of her back as possible, remembering what had happened the last time it had been removed, of having Kathryn present as her newly regenerated flesh was revealed to her, tingling pleasantly inside as she did so. It really was a shame that Kathryn had been so exhausted this day; Seven's nerve endings were crying out to be stimulated, and she had to take a moment to control herself, channeling her desire into patience before going out into the other room and crawling into bed next to her partner.

The captain stirred, muttered something and rolled over, sprawling over Seven's chest in sybaritic pleasure, resting her leg heavily on the young woman's thighs, snuggling her head comfortably into the nook of the Borg's shoulder. Seven was amused, fully aware that it had been completely unconscious on Janeway's part, the smaller woman possessive of her physically, even in her sleep. She remembered Kathryn telling her once that until Seven, the captain had always experienced difficulty sleeping with another person, preferring to keep the other body at arm's length.

Seven suspected that was a fallacy, because from the first night they had been together, Janeway always ended up so closely entangled with her it was hard to tell where she left off and the captain began. It was fortunate Seven did not experience any sort of phobias about being trapped, because frequently Janeway's arms about her neck were of sufficient tightness as to be slightly choking.

Yet Seven loved every nano-second of it. Smiling gently, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift off to sleep, cradling her lover with quiet joy.

Janeway woke briefly in the night, submerged in wonderful warmth, surrounded by loving arms and a soft, yielding body beneath hers. Without opening her eyes, she snuggled closer and took a deep breath, secure in the knowledge that her lover was right there, perfectly safe, the steady heartbeat throbbing beneath her cheek, the quiet respiration making her head rise and fall in a regular rhythm. She sighed happily, and immediately drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again, the illumination for morning watch was up and Seven was gone, though Janeway could hear her moving about in the outer living quarters, the familiar sounds of home soothing, comforting. With a faint smile, the captain shifted position, wrapping her arms around Seven's pillow so that she could breath in the faint scent of her partner, content in the knowledge that neither of them would be expected on duty, and even if she was needed, her comm badge was only a few feet away. She did not quite know how she had got to bed the night before ... the last thing she remembered was laying on the couch talking with Seven who was out of sickbay ... but it didn't really matter as she snuggled into the warm cocoon of blankets. Once again, she dozed off.

An unspecified period of time later, she lay suspended between dreams and reality, of soft desire and the acute need to wake, to feel the full sensation that was beckoning so irresistibly. Making a sound in her throat, she forced herself up through the cottony fog surrounding her to the heat of a body pressing lightly down on her, of the mouth covering hers, kissing her with focused intent. She made another sound, a pleased moan of pleasure and arousal as she identified Annika's form on her, the arms that cradled her shoulders, fingers in her hair, the sweet taste of her partner filling her.

She wrapped her arms around the warm torso, responding to the kiss with keen desire, feeling the tongue explore her mouth, dancing along her teeth, entwining hotly with her own. She arched up against the warm body, sliding sensuously against flesh free of implants, of warm, silky skin that was so incredibly smooth. Her small breasts flattened beneath the more generous figure of her lover, the delicate tickle of Seven's newly restored belly pushing against hers, the crinkly thatch of hair tugging at her own as their bodies moved together, gently, slowly. Her legs parted of their own accord, accepting the strong, lanky leg that pressed between them, and she felt a sudden chill of pleasure shiver through her as her vulnerable wetness skidded recklessly along the line of muscle, the sensitive bundle of nerve endings dragged deliciously against the warm thigh.

All in all, it was positively the best way to wake up Janeway had ever known.

The tender lips moved away briefly, and Janeway's head fell back, eyes still closed as her mouth parted to draw breath, inhaling deeply as she felt the lips trace her jawline, moving over her ear, the bright edge of teeth closing gently over the lobe.

"Annika." She breathed the name into the thick mane of blonde hair covering her face, trailing over her, filling her with its fragrance as she nuzzled into its warmth and softness. "Oh, my darling Annika. I've missed you so much."

"Kathryn," came the quiet response in her ear, the love lacing the word with such intensity that it curled around Janeway's senses, taking her breath away.

Janeway ran her hands down the silken back which rippled with finely defined musculature as Seven moved over her, the younger woman loving her completely with her hands, with her mouth, with her entire body. Hard nipples covered with velvet prodded Kathryn, the strong line of Seven's thigh pressing firmly against the captain's center which responded with a flood of moisture, and Janeway found herself undulating without conscious volition, moving against the maddening pressure which made her stomach contract, made her want to cry out from the sensation that filled her, overpowered her...

"Bridge to Janeway."

"No, oh no," Janeway moaned. "No, no, no, no, no...."

"Bridge to the Captain."

"Oh god."

Janeway felt very much like weeping as the wonderful body eased off her, coming to rest against her side as she blindly reached out to her right, groping for the comm badge, finally finding it on the night stand. She had to strongly resist the urge to fling it against the nearest bulkhead just so she could see it shatter into a million pieces.

"Janeway here," she said, in a voice that could slice duranium.

"Captain, long range sensors are detecting an anomaly," Chakotay's voice said without mercy. "I really think you should come up and take a look at it." There was a hesitation, a regretful pause. It was doubtful Voyager's first officer knew what was happening, but he could probably tell from her tone that she was not happy at being disturbed. "Sorry, Captain."

"Understood," Janeway said evenly. "I'm on my way."

She cut the signal and took a second to lay back against the sheets, trying to compose herself. Beside her, she was aware of Seven taking one deep breath after another, attempting to bring her own desire down to manageable levels.

"Damn," Janeway said with heartfelt despair. She turned to Seven's head resting on the pillow beside hers, bringing her hand up to rest her knuckles against the warm cheek. "I'm sorry, darling," she whispered.

"I too, am very sorry," Seven responded sincerely.

Groaning, Janeway rolled out of bed, and staggered a bit as she stood up too quickly. She cast a glance backwards at the Borg still on the bed, Seven's light coloring making her a blonde and silver streak against the deep blue of the Starfleet issued sheets. The young woman was achingly beautiful, hair flowing wild about her features soft with arousal, the wide eyes a dark sapphire into which Janeway wanted to plunge and never emerge. The generous breasts were heavy and full, the pink-shaded nipples taut with readiness, the sleek line of Seven's newly formed belly flexing as she shifted, the blonde triangle tangled, moist at the apex of the long legs that seemed to run on forever.

Janeway wanted to scream with sheer frustration as she was forced to turn away, and stumble into the bathroom. Angrily she programmed the shower, setting it to iceburst to drive away the heat suffusing her body, attempting to clear her mind by putting her head directly under the driving spray. She supposed that she should be grateful that this was the first time the couple had ever been interrupted this way in all the time they had been together, but it was a cold consolation to assume that the law of averages had finally caught up with them.

She stepped from the shower, shivering as she blinked water drops from her eyes, finding Seven waiting for her with a warmed bath sheet which she promptly wrapped around the captain. Over Seven's shoulder, Janeway could see a freshly replicated uniform sitting neatly folded on the sink counter, the pips and comm badge already attached.

"Damn, damn, damn," she mumbled as she dried herself off quickly, and began to pull on her uniform. "This had better be a really impressive anomaly."

"It must be unusual, or they would not have contacted you during your off shift," Seven noted as she made a quick pass through the sonic setting which was much quicker than the hydro setting.

Janeway always chose the hydro because the vibration of the sonic waves which shook off dirt tended to set her teeth on edge and give her a headache. Right now, her crew could not afford to get her with a headache on top of everything else she was feeling. It was bad enough that she was already chewing nails and spitting out tacks.

"Well, we'll know soon enough," Janeway said shortly, running a brush impatiently through her hair as Seven drew on her skintight suit.

The captain did notice that the outfit was different than any other she had seen Seven wear, a blue and grey material that did wonders for the younger woman's pale eyes. "I like that," Janeway added off-handedly as they strode rapidly for the turbolift. The dazzling smile that rewarded that comment was far out of proportion to the compliment and despite herself, Janeway felt marginally better about things as the lift doors slid shut on them. "Is it new?"

"Yes," Seven responded in a happy tone. "I chose the colors myself."

"You like blue and grey?" Janeway asked curiously.

"They are my favorite combination of shades," Seven said warmly.

Seven's eyes pinned hers, raising an eyebrow significantly, and Janeway blushed as she realized what Seven was referring to. "I'm glad," the captain said, feeling absurdly pleased and flattered.

Seven opened her mouth to respond when the two of them were suddenly thrown into the walls of the turbolift, impacting into the walls with solid thuds which were muted by the awful sound of tearing metal as the ship shook around them. They fell to the floor in a tangle, tossed helplessly from side to side, and there was a terrifying drop as gravity disappeared, the lift plunging a deck or two before the emergency braking system brought it to a screeching halt.

Then everything was still, which was even more ominous because even the normal sounds of the ship's engines and air circulation were absent, indicating a complete loss of power. Dazedly, Janeway eased away from Seven who was stirring under her, having shielded her from the worst of the impacts.

"Seven, are you all right?" she asked anxiously.

"I am functioning," Seven responded evenly. Which meant she was pretty shaken up since she tended to fall back on her Borg-influenced sayings when her own vocabulary, which was quite extensive by now, totally failed to offer words to explain how she was really feeling. "There is no illumination."

"No," Janeway replied worriedly. Even the emergency lights had not come on, and there was a shudder around them as the turbolift slid down a little, the sound of stressed metal raising the hair on the back of her neck. She slapped her comm badge. "Janeway to bridge. Report." She wasn't really surprised at the silence that answered her, but still felt a stab of disappointment. Whatever had happened had impacted catastrophically on the ship's systems. Communications was one of the more sensitive areas and easily disrupted. "Anyone, report. This is the Captain."

Another pause as she peered fruitlessly through blackness darker than anything that she had ever experienced. Her eyes ached from staring so hard, and when the emergency lights finally did activate, they were almost blinding in their fretful, dim flickering. She blinked hard against the tears that sprang to her eyes, and tried her comm badge again. Still no response and she sought out Seven who was regarding her alertly.

There was another lurch, and the turbolift dropped another few inches.

"I believe it would be advisable to vacate this lift," Seven remarked calmly.

"I think you're right," the captain responded readily.

Whatever happened to the rest of her ship would have to wait until she got herself safe.

If she could.

Seven stood up carefully, legs spread to maintain her balance. When the lift, did not move, the captain also ventured to stand, using the tall blonde as a brace to pull herself up with. Seven bent over slightly, cupping her hands, and Janeway stepped into the support offered, easily being raised to the ceiling by Borg-enhanced strength, which also steadied the captain as she pried open the seal at the top of the compartment.

"Okay, it's open," Janeway said, and Seven carefully lifted the captain up through the open hatch.

The turbolift shook as Janeway crawled across its roof and Seven winced, but the lift did not drop any further. She peered uncertainly into the dark shadows over her, but could see nothing.

"All right, I'm clear," Janeway's voice drifted down to the Borg, and Seven crouched, then leaped for the opening above her.

The strength of the leap was sufficient to propel her halfway through the hatch, and she searched quickly for a hold on the roof before she slipped back. She managed to scramble the rest of the way, the car shifting unsteadily beneath her, and she reached out for the access ladder just as the footing dropped out from under her entirely. For a few apprehensive seconds, she was suspended only by her fingers wrapped around a single rung, but then her feet found purchase on a lower one, and she glanced down in time to see flame billow up as the turbolift smashed into the bottom of the shaft. Fortunately the flame petered out before reaching the two Voyager crewmembers clinging to the access ladder, though they were buffeted by a blast of hot, choking air.

"Are you alright?" Janeway asked anxiously from above.

Seven raised her head, barely able to discern the pale circle that was the captain's face several rungs above her. "Yes," she replied. "Now what?"

Janeway started to climb. "This leads all the way to the bridge," she said. "That's where we should start."

Seven judged that they had about seven decks to go, and she sighed silently as she followed in the captain's wake.

"Do you have any ideas about what might have happened?" Janeway asked in a frustrated tone as they climbed.

"Several possibilities come to mind," Seven responded. "Without further data, however, any one of them could be plausible. Would you like me to list them?"

"How many are there?" Janeway asked cautiously.

"One hundred, thirty-seven," Seven replied. "There are also nine-hundred and fifty-three less plausible but equally possible scenarios."

"Let's just save our breath for now," Janeway suggested gently.

Seven raised an eyebrow and continued to climb. When Janeway stopped, she did as well, head back as she tried to see what was going on above her. She could hear Janeway's breathing deepen as she worked at the panel next to her, and then a soft grunt as the captain strained at the doors.

"Do you require assistance?" Seven asked politely.

"Can you get up here?" Janeway responded.

"I will try," Seven said, and climbed up until she was behind Janeway, reaching around her to grasp the ladder. Her feet were one rung below the captain's while her head was at the same level, and she noted their difference in height idly.

"The manual override isn't responding," Janeway explained over her shoulder as Seven pressed against her back. "I can't get enough leverage to force the door."

"Perhaps my implant will work," Seven said and wrapped her right arm tightly about the ladder as she reached out with her left.

She forced her metal covered fingertips into the slight crack and began to exert a steady pressure. As she did, she was suddenly aware of Kathryn's body against hers, the fragrance of her soft perfume and the arid tang of sweat as the captain contributed her Human strength in helping to force the door. She did not know how she could be so aroused when the situation hardly lent itself for her to act upon those feelings, but she wondered what Kathryn would do if she leaned forward just a little to kiss her ear.

"Seven, keep your mind on the matter at hand," Janeway ordered with a touch of annoyance, and Seven was startled to realize she had been nuzzling the mussed, auburn hair.

"Sorry." Seven apologized though she wasn't at all, and refocused her attention on the door. With a spurt of energy, the door gave way with an outraged squeal of metal, and gritting her teeth, Seven forced it open the rest of the way.

She took a few deep breaths, resting as Janeway clambered up the remaining rungs and crawled through the opening. Then Seven followed, brushing at her outfit absently as she stood, looking around the bridge. It was empty and dark, a few, isolated lights flickering fitfully here and there on the consoles. She frowned as she looked around at the damaged control center, at the captain's chair wrenched off its mooring to lay on its side on the deck, at the shattered panels and twisted metal.

"This can't be right," Janeway muttered uncertainly. She walked down the stairs and stared around her bridge uncomprehendingly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. There was an air of desolation about the area, and wonderingly she reached out and ran a finger along the tactical console. It came away, thick with dust, which did not make sense at all. Uneasily, she went to the board, touching the pad smeared liberally with dirt, trying to bring up something that would give her some clue as to what was going on.

"It looks as if it's been abandoned for months," Janeway said. "Maybe even years."

"The Stardate is current," Seven responded evenly, though she was far from calm inside. She raised her eyes to meet Janeway's, sure that her face was now as pale as her partner's.

Janeway opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, seemed lost. "I don't understand," she said finally.

Seven touched more controls, studying the data she was receiving. She was aware of Janeway crossing the bridge to her, leaning over her shoulder as she worked. "Main computer is not responding," she told the captain. "There seems to be no higher computer functions at all. Only simple maintenance programs detailing ship's status."

"She's been stripped," Janeway said after a moment.

"'Stripped'?"

Janeway took a breath. "It's almost as if Voyager's been decommissioned," she said quietly, almost to herself. "Everything of value is gone, main computer, warp engines, only minimum power to activate emergency lights in the event someone needs to come on board. There's no life support, though according to this, there should be enough air to last a few more hours."

"Is this a temporal incursion of some sort?" Seven asked.

Janeway shook her head slightly. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not sure what is out of synch however; the ship or us." Her face was serious as she accessed the board herself, elegant fingers pressing through the layer of grime.

Seven left her to it and went over to the operations console which provided little more information than the tactical console had. But by cross-linking the emergency lights, she was able to channel power to the few remaining outer sensors and the viewscreen. It flickered to reveal the stark blackness of space littered with the remains of many vessels drifting abandoned around them. Beyond this ship's graveyard, the reddish bulk of a planet beckoned. For some reason, this all looked familiar in the way Seven knew was attributed to some memory not of her own, but of the Collective.

Across the bridge, Janeway gasped audibly and Seven looked at her, disturbed at the expression she saw on the captain's face. "What is it?"

"This is Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards," Janeway said in an odd tone. "The shipyards orbiting Mars."

Mars? The fourth planet in Earth's system? Seven took a breath. "We have returned to the Alpha Quadrant?" she queried with a certain disbelief.

Janeway did not get a chance to respond before the thin whine of transporters heralded the appearance of five figures in Starfleet environmental suits which sported badges indicating they were from Utopia Planitia Control. Phaser rifles were leveled toward them, and Seven noticed with a flicker of amusement that four were aimed at her while only one covered Janeway. Of the two of them, Seven considered the captain to be a far deadlier threat in any set of circumstances.

"Identify yourselves," the muffled voice came out of the speaker on the front of the space suit of the closest figure.

"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager," Janeway responded promptly, raising her hands so that they could see she was unarmed. "This is my astrometrics officer, Seven of Nine."

"She's reading as having Borg technology," muttered a feminine voice from one of the other figures, tricorder held high in Seven's direction.

"Never saw any Borg that looked like that," a third voice countered with an appreciative leer in his tone.

"Pipe down," ordered the first voice, clearly the group's leader. He had to turn his whole body to face Janeway. "Perhaps you'd care to explain what you're doing here, Captain?" His tone indicated he hadn't believed a word she had said.

From Kathryn's expression, the way the muscle jumped slightly in her jaw, Seven knew that Janeway was not surprised by his disbelief, though still slightly annoyed by his manner. She remained silent, content to take her lead from her captain.

"Can you tell me when this ship was decommissioned?" Janeway asked.

"A year or so ago," someone responded to the tone of command before the leader could stop them.

Janeway took a deep breath. "Is this Stardate current?" she requested, gesturing at the board.

The leader nodded. "It's correct," he said. He looked at her. "Forgive me, but this ship returned from the Delta Quadrant a year and a half ago. From what I can remember, the captain of it was promoted to commodore and is supposed to be assigned to the Starfleet Olympia Complex the last I heard. Are you sure you want to stick to this story?"

Janeway hesitated. "Perhaps you should take us to your superiors," she suggested.

"That's the first sensible thing you've said," the leader said.

Seven was watched warily as she walked around the console to take up a position at Janeway's side, but she ignored them, focusing her attention on the captain. Janeway gave her a tight nod, reassuring her that she had everything under control, though Seven could in no way figure out how her partner was managing that.

Sparkles filled her eyes as the discarded remains of Voyager's bridge disappeared and a transporter beam whisked her away.

Captain Kathryn Janeway paced restlessly about the room where she and Seven were being held. It was comfortable, as these rooms went, with a couple of bunks, a large sofa, chairs, a table, computer consoles with limited access, and a replicator for anything they might need to eat. Yet, it was still a prison and Janeway did not react well to being confined. They had been taken to a base on Mars, a Starfleet compound distant from the rest of the planetary settlements, a scientific facility which was clearly restricted with a multitude of security protocols.

Seven sat quietly on the sofa, watching her pace. "Do you think Commander Fulton believed us?" she asked.

"Not any more than the previous four people we've told this story to," Janeway responded dryly. "But we do seem to be working our way up the chain of command. We should be getting a captain next. Or at least, the commander of the base himself."

"Is that good?" Seven asked.

Janeway managed a half-grin. "Well, they haven't sedated us and handed us over to the Starfleet Psyche ward." She stopped and looked down at Seven, her hands on her hips. "They might think I'm crazy, but the DNA does identify me as Kathryn Janeway, and you're definitely Borg. I'm pretty sure they don't know what to do at this point."

Seven looked thoughtful. "How is it possible that Voyager returned a year ago, yet the Stardate is still the same?"

Janeway took a breath. "I don't think this is a temporal situation, Seven," she replied. "I think we've fallen into some sort of alternate reality. There is precedent for this. Starfleet records show at least one known alternate reality where the Federation fell to an alliance of Klingons and Cardassians."

"The 'mirror' universe," Seven identified. "I have read of that. Humans had an 'Empire' rather than a Federation."

Janeway nodded. "That's correct. In our second year, we also ran across a parallel dimension, but this isn't it. In that one, Voyager was destroyed so that ours would survive," she said. "I'm not sure where we might be. The only difference we've come across so far is that I somehow got Voyager back home more than a year ago. I wish I knew how."

"We found a wormhole."

Neither Janeway nor Seven had heard the door open, and they both started abruptly, turning toward the entrance. Seven rose to her feet before freezing in disbelief, and Janeway thought she should feel a lot more unnerved than this, more disturbed at the sight of the auburn-haired woman standing in the doorway, flanked by the smaller, blond figure of a woman that the captain recognized as Admiral Alynna Necheyev.

"Captain?"

Seven was stunned, gaping unabashedly at the compact figure dressed in the black and grey of Starfleet, the insignia of a commodore at her collar. Janeway was more composed as she stared, not in astonishment at the similarities, but rather avidly picking out the differences between them. In addition to the uniform and rank, the newcomer's hair was long, and swept up in a bun instead of Janeway's current short cut. There was also a gold band around the ring finger of the left hand with the accompanying diamond, and an oddly strained look cast shadows on the high-boned features which mirrored her own.

The commodore was returning the scrutiny with equal keenness, sweeping her up and down with a measuring glance that seemed to take her apart. Janeway had never been on the receiving end of  her 'Look' before and it both startled and amused her.

Honestly, she thought, it isn't any wonder people squirm under my attention. It's just like Daddy's look. It makes people feel like they're three years old. Of her crew, only Seven had ever defied that gaze with any sort of regularity.

However, Kathryn Janeway was hardly the sort to be intimidated, and she found she was straightening, squaring her shoulders under her old style uniform and returning the 'Look' eyeball for eyeball.

"Well, I must say, she certainly has your attitude, Kathryn," Admiral Necheyev said with a touch of amusement as she brushed past the commodore to walk around Captain Janeway. "So what do we have here? A temporal incursion?"

"No, this is a matter of alternate realities," Seven piped up.

Janeway stifled a sigh. She should have asked Seven to remain quiet while she did the talking. Necheyev was immediately drawn to the tall, blonde, raking her with a frown.

"You're a Borg," she said and she uttered 'Borg' in the same tone as she would say, 'Denebian Slime Devil'.

"I am no longer of the Collective," Seven responded in a more subdued tone, apparently picking up on the disdain in the voice.

Janeway was immediately at her officer's side, frowning as she regarded the admiral.

"Seven of Nine became a member of my crew a year and a half ago, and has acted as my astrometrics officer with extreme competence," Janeway said coldly. "She has, on at least three occasions, been directly responsible for saving Voyager and her crew from certain destruction."

"I've never had a Borg on my ship," the commodore interjected.

"That was your loss," Janeway said tartly.

Necheyev raised her hands. "Let's not get bogged down here," she said, eyeing the two redheads with a certain amount of wariness. She dipped her head briefly at Janeway. "I meant no disrespect. We are aware that the genetic code does show that you match exactly with our Commodore Kathryn Johnson. As for the B--...your officer, she matches a civilian scientist named Annika Hansen who's here on our base."

Janeway's eyebrow arched. Well, now she had two more pieces of information on the differences between the universes; the knowledge that Seven's counterpart existed as well, and where the wedding ring came from. Apparently in this reality, 'Janeway' had married Mark Johnson, her childhood friend, and the man she had been engaged to prior to being lost in the Delta Quadrant.

Janeway shot a glance at her partner who seemed very young at that moment, eyes wide as she looked back at Janeway, clearly uncertain. The captain wanted to reach out to her and hug her reassuringly, but this was not the time. If she remembered correctly, Necheyev had an almost rabid distaste for the Borg, and it was incumbent on her that she protect Seven as best she could. To do that, she needed to be thinking clearly, not as Seven's partner, but as her captain.

Commodore Johnson was nodding, her mouth a firm line. "Perhaps if we figure out where we diverged," she suggested reasonably. "We would have a better idea of what we're dealing with here."

"Take a seat," Janeway commanded, motioning to the table in the corner of the room.

Johnson and Necheyev exchanged looks, clearly hesitant at how Janeway had abruptly taken charge, but they went over and sat down without further discussion. Janeway made sure Seven was seated, taking an instant to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly as she passed behind her, then took a seat herself at what could be considered the head of the table.

"Where do we start?" she asked, looking at the admiral. She did remember the chain of command, even though it had been a while, and she realized suddenly she had been acting a bit presumptuously. She wondered if this was what Seven meant when she complained about her domineering manner. However, it was just her way. After five years of being the sole Starfleet authority within light-years, she couldn't help it. It just surprised her that her counterpart accepted it so easily.

"Obviously, both Voyagers were lost in the Delta Quadrant," Necheyev said. "Take it from there."

Janeway took a breath, and began to recount Voyager's journey. Every encounter of the first three years she brought up seemed to match with Commodore Johnson's recollection. Any details that differed could have been a matter of faulty memory or perception ... until they came to Borg space.

"Once, I saw the thousands of ships clogging what I originally thought was a clear passageway, I knew I had a difficult choice to make," Janeway said.

"Yes," Johnson interjected. "I decided Voyager would back out of Borg space, skirt the area, maintaining our distance and hope that the war would keep the Borg from trying to come after us. It was a hard decision, but one which would allow us to survive."

"That is not what happened." Seven spoke for the first time in a long while.

"Going around would have added over a hundred years to the journey," Janeway said, frowning as she regarded her counterpart. "I wasn't prepared to give up that easily."

"We couldn't very well go through," Johnson responded, looking at her oddly. "To interfere with a war between the Borg and Species 8472 was a clear violation of the Prime Directive. Going around was the only option."

"Obviously not, because I went through," Janeway said, a hint of asperity in her tone.

"How did you manage that?" Johnson said, grey eyes pinning the captain's.

"I negotiated with the Collective," Janeway said, a bit proudly. "Free passage through their space and in return, we would assist in defeating Species 8472 which was the greater threat."

The captain allowed herself an inward grin when she saw the expression on her counterpart's face. Honestly, was that how she looked when someone shocked her? Something like a fish out of water, she noted, mouth open a little, eyes bulging slightly. Very unattractive.

"You interfered with a war that did not concern you other than being between you and where you wanted to go, allied yourself with the greatest threat the Federation has ever known?" Admiral Necheyev was also astounded but there was more anger in her Slavic features as she glared at the Voyager captain. "How exactly did you help the Borg?"

Janeway hesitated. "The Doctor discovered that by altering Borg nano-probes, they could affect Species 8472," she admitted. "Giving us a weapon to use on them."

Now that it was said so plainly, she got the sense that perhaps it was a little worse than she had allowed herself to believe. At least, it sounded a lot worse. She wondered if it would go over any better in her own reality.

"You gave a weapon of mass destruction to the Borg?" Johnson said in utter disbelief.

Janeway's eyes narrowed at the tone. "Species 8472 threatened the entire Delta Quadrant," she said, gently dangerous. "What else could I have done?"

"By skirting Borg space, we came across a wormhole within two months which brought us home," the commodore said quietly, in an equally deadly voice. "It seems that not only did you shatter the Prime Directive, you cost your crew their best chance at returning home."

Janeway felt the blood thunder in her ears, and hoped her dismay did not show on her face. However, there was one in the room who knew her too well, and was quick to jump to her defense.

"If the captain had not entered into the agreement with the Collective, Species 8472 would have destroyed the Borg." Seven said, her words clipped and very precise. "They then would have gone on to exterminate the rest of the Delta Quadrant, as I am sure they are doing in this reality at this very moment. When they have spread to the Alpha Quadrant, as they will, there will be no altered Borg nanoprobes with which to drive them back into their space. You will have no protection against them and nothing to negotiate with. You will all be destroyed."

Janeway favored her partner with a small smile. Seven was so fierce, her eyes absolutely sparking. The captain had been on the receiving end of that fury a great many times. She found it quite pleasant to have it shielding her now.

There was a pause as the other two regarded Seven in silence, contemplating her with matching airs of astonishment and unease.

"They are that big a threat?" Necheyev said finally.

Seven centered her laser gaze on the admiral. "They were more than capable of destroying the Borg Collective," she stated flatly. "They are the ultimate in biological evolution. Their very touch is incompatible to organic lifeforms."

"I'm curious," Janeway said, remembering what else had been going on then. "What happened to Harry Kim?"

Her query struck hard, she saw. At the time she had made her decision, Harry had been in sickbay, desperately fighting for his life after being clawed by a member of Species 8472, his body being broken down by the aggressive elements of the alien genetic material.

"Ensign Kim died four days after he was attacked," Johnson said bleakly.

Janeway felt herself mirror the loss, knowing the despair that would have arisen if the Doctor had not been able to devise a cure for Harry in time. Then, she considered what this really meant.

"It wasn't the decision to enter Borg space that was the difference," she said slowly. "It was the Doctor creating the altered nanoprobes. If he hadn't done that, Harry wouldn't have been cured, and I wouldn't have had anything to bargain with. My decision might have been the same as yours if the option of the nanoprobes wasn't available."

Necheyev nodded thoughtfully. "So now we know where the reality altered," she said. She looked keenly at the captain. "Perhaps we should discuss these nanoprobes further."

"There must be other differences," Seven offered, completely unaware that she was changing the subject. Janeway knew, however and was grateful for it. She wanted to know more before she gave away all her cards. "What of my counterpart? I was assimilated by the Borg when I was six. Captain Janeway severed my link to the Collective when I was assigned as the Borg's liaison to her. Here, I am a doctor?"

"Annika Hansen was never assimilated," Necheyev offered, looking at the woman narrowly. "She is well known in her field of propulsion technology, having worked closely with Starfleet the past three years in attempting to adapt Borg transwarp technology to Starfleet vessels. I've met her and she's not very similar to you at all."

"She's not in Starfleet?" Janeway asked curiously.

"No, she acts in a civilian capacity," Johnson said. "I encounter her often in my role as base commander."

Janeway noted the tone. It sounded as if her counterpart and Seven's didn't get along at all. How ... well, the whole situation was odd.

"Oh course, the next point that we need to address is this," Necheyev said, dark eyes darting back and forth between the two Voyager crewmembers.

"What the hell are we going to do with you?"

Seven sat quietly on the sofa in the corner. The conversation between the three Starfleet members had continued for a very long time, and she had found herself being left out of it more and more as they discussed things that she had no knowledge of, and people she did not know, in an effort to chart the differences between the realities. They had not noticed when she finally left the table to curl up here. A few hours later, Admiral Necheyev had left, citing other responsibilities and leaving the whole thing in the lap of the base commander, rushing to catch a shuttle which would take her back to Earth and Starfleet Command. That left the two redheads to worry away at the situation with the doggedness that was so characteristic of the Janeways, expanding exponentially with two of them going at it, feeding off each other as they picked apart every possibility for what had happened.

Seven was very fatigued, wanting nothing more than to curl up in Janeway's arms and drift off to sleep. It seemed an eternity since she and Kathryn had been interrupted in the process of making love, but in truth, it had only been a few days ago, hours filled with telling their stories to various Starfleet personnel, and being cooped up together in this room which, despite its comfortable decor, was clearly a brig of sorts.

That in itself wouldn't have been so bad. It was hardly the first time Seven had found herself locked up with the captain, and some of their most profoundly emotional times had come in brigs as a matter of fact. The problem with this one was that Janeway suspected they were under constant surveillance, and had pointed out the areas where Starfleet would most likely have monitoring devices.  As a result, Seven was forced to act as if she were only Janeway's officer, and not her partner.

That was a strategy they had developed a long time ago. If the situation were uncertain or unfamiliar, then Seven and the captain would remain completely professional, not hinting at their relationship in any way so as not to provide any enemy with a weapon to use against either of them. Despite the fact that they were deep in the Federation, Seven felt as if she were surrounded by enemies. Especially when she saw Necheyev's expression whenever she had caught the Admiral observing her.

Seven found that she was staring at the other Kathryn ... Commodore Johnson ... and had to force herself to look away. The longer she was in the woman's presence, the stranger she felt. She knew that this woman was not who she had fallen in love with or had fallen in love with her, but it disturbed her greatly that this 'Janeway' was so familiar and so chillingly different at the same time. The Borg had taken note of the wedding ring on the commodore's finger, the difference in last names, having come to the conclusion that this 'Janeway' had married Mark Johnson.

Seven looked at the commodore's ring that flashed in the muted light of the room and wondered how important it was to this 'Janeway'. Seven understood that such items, uniquely chosen mementos, had exceptional relevance to some individuals. She herself, had something incredibly special hidden in the compartment of one of her implants, the one on her right bicep, an item which she had been secretly carrying for quite some time. When the time was right, she intended to give it to Kathryn. She suspected that Kathryn, upon finally finding out about it, would consider it ridiculously sentimental and far out of keeping with Seven's Borg demeanor. On the other hand, Seven knew for a fact that the captain had an holo-image of Seven encoded into her command authorization so that whenever she logged on to any of Voyager's systems and was working, a small image of Seven was always visible in the lower, left-hand corner of the screen. On a tricorder, it showed up only as a dot, but Seven knew what it was and felt warmed by it. So perhaps the captain was just as sentimental in her own way as Seven had discovered herself to be.

She wondered if this 'Janeway' felt about Mark the same way Kathryn felt about her. It made her uncomfortable to think that in this reality, 'Janeway' could love someone else, knowing that 'Annika Hansen' also existed. Seven realized there was no romantic relationship between her counterpart and Commodore Johnson, having picked that up from the inflections in the voice the few times 'Dr. Hansen' had been discussed. Indeed, it seemed that the relationship was antagonistic if there was any at all.

"Seven."

Startled out of her musing, Seven regarded the two women, not knowing which one of them was speaking. "Yes?"

"Did you pick up any kind of displacement in the turbolift?" Johnson asked her. "Did your ... implants record anything at all?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "There was much 'displacement'," she responded. "From one wall to the other. However, I detected no form of energy beam or indication we were 'transported'. In any event, my implants are incapable of 'recording' phenomena."

She tried to keep the condescending tone out of her voice and knew she had not succeeded by the sharp look Janeway shot her. Very aware of Kathryn's eyes on her, she tried to straighten her shoulders and look professional.

"Seven, you should try to get some sleep," Kathryn said gently, but with the unmistakable tone of command lacing her voice, and only as she would speak to any crewmember.

Seven felt a sudden anger spark within her. She did not want to go to bed, not unless Kathryn was with her. The beds weren't even constructed for two people, narrow bunks which were uncomfortable to lie upon. She was tired of having to pretend she wasn't Kathryn's partner. What difference did it make if they knew?

Her lips thinned as she tried not to blurt out her feelings, tried not to express how much she was missing Kathryn. She did not want to embarrass the captain, especially in front of this other 'Janeway' who so proudly wore the insignia of a higher rank. Kathryn seemed to sense her turmoil and Seven saw her eyes narrow in warning. Taking a deliberately slow breath, Seven nodded.

"I will comply, Captain," she said quietly.

Unhappily, she got up and went into the ensuite which bordered their room. In the mirror over the sink, she could see that there were tears in her eyes, making them glisten, and fretfully she wiped them away with her sleeve. She washed her face and hands before removing her outfit, running it through the recycler before putting on the plain, dull grey pyjamas provided by Starfleet. Then she returned to the other room and placed her outfit on the nightstand before crawling into the bed furthest away from the area where the two older women were talking. She rolled over, facing the wall as she pulled the blanket over her shoulders, huddled against the stiff mattress and thin pillow.

She tried not to cry, awash in a sea of misery.

Janeway stifled a sigh as she saw Seven get into bed out of the corner of her eye. She could tell the young woman was very unhappy, but there was little she could do at the moment. There was a time for being affectionate, and a time to apply oneself to the matter at hand. This was the latter, but she made a mental note to find a way to connect with Seven later, even knowing that they were being monitored.

"It seems your Hansen is no more amenable to Starfleet protocol than mine is," Johnson noted with cool disapproval.

Janeway felt a spark of anger flare. "Seven has been through a lot," she replied shortly, her voice clipped and at its most dangerous register. "I have never regretted bringing her on board my ship. I certainly do not regret the opportunity I have had to know the uniquely wonderful person she is."

Johnson seemed startled, both by the words, and by the furious tone in the captain's voice.  "I hadn't realized you were so fond of her," she said quietly, studying her closely. "My relationship with Dr. Hansen is anything but."

Janeway hesitated, regretting how much she had revealed by her reaction. She still wasn't sure of Necheyev's attitude toward Seven's Borgness, or how much this would have affected her counterpart's view toward any hint of the Collective. She especially had no way of knowing how they would react to her being involved with one, and it was entirely possible that they might think she was unduly influenced by Seven.

Aren't you? her little voice asked archly.

"She's a very important member of my crew," she said finally, crisply.

Johnson nodded. "I guess I understand that," she said slowly. "If this base was more like it was on Voyager, perhaps I would feel a little more connected to the civilians. As it is, I'm never able to get the sense that they're part of my crew, mostly because they go out of their way to show me how much they aren't."

"What exactly is it that you're attempting to do here?" Janeway asked, curiously.

"The Transwarp Directive is an attempt to design starships with propulsion systems that mimic the Borg's transwarp system," Johnson explained. "After my return from the Delta Quadrant, I was promoted and assigned this project, probably because of my ... our father's role in previous Starfleet ship design. Dr. Hansen and her group of scientists were already working on a similar project, work that uses a lot of the information the older Hansens had gathered years ago when they studied the Borg. Once the war with the Dominion started, the group was 'invited' to bring their work into the Project, unifying our approach rather than duplicating it. In the beginning, they seemed quite appreciative of the funding and assistance we could provide. However, in the past year, they've developed an attitude that Starfleet is some sort of imperialistic organization that is going to turn their great discoveries into war machines. At least, that's Dr. Hansen's belief, fostered on her by her parents, and passed on to the rest of the team. It's starting to become a problem."

"This base is separate from the Utopia Planetia Shipyards, and is limited to authorized personnel only," the commodore added. "You were brought here because it is the most secured area on the planet. The whole project is self-contained."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "What happens now?" she asked.

Johnson took a breath. "To be truthful, I don't know," she admitted. "No one in Starfleet Command knows what to do with you, so for the time being, they've cheerfully left it up to us. However, since you have no idea what exactly it was your Voyager encountered, or how it might have transported you here, we don't even know where to begin on finding a way to send you back. In the meantime, we can provide all the data we have on alternate realities and parallel universes, and take it from there." She hesitated. "I have to admit that if what Seven of Nine says about Species 8472 is true, we're going to need a defense against them."

"You want Seven and I to give you the nanoprobe technology," Janeway said coolly, looking at her. "In return for helping us find a way back."

"An equitable trade is always good," Johnson said quietly, not rising to the bait.

Janeway was suddenly very aware of the difference in their attitudes. This version of herself seemed so much wearier, more jaded than she was. "I'm guessing you married Mark," she blurted, surprising herself as much as she apparently surprised Johnson.

By unspoken mutual consent, they had steered clear of any personal questions or comments, keeping it confined to Starfleet and professional comparisons, but now Janeway felt an intense curiosity that she couldn't deny. There was a pause, and Janeway wasn't sure if her counterpart was going to answer her implied question. Then the woman nodded briefly.

"Mark and I were married six months after Voyager's return," Johnson said, without much inflection in her tone. "He was my stability while I was going through the many briefings and interviews with the brass. I had missed him so much."

Janeway's eyes narrowed. There was something there she couldn't recognize. Some unclear regret.

"In my reality, he moved on," she offered quietly. "He waited a long time, was one of the last to give up hope, but in the end, he knew he had to get on with his life. He married a woman he worked with. Melissa Bell-something."

"Melissa Bellwood," Johnson said in an odd tone. "She's his assistant."

Janeway stared at her counterpart, noting the expression. What have I stirred up now?

"Is he..." she trailed off uncertainly, not sure she even had the right to ask.

"Having an affair?" Johnson said quietly. "I don't believe it's a sexual relationship.  Not yet, anyway."

Janeway frowned and Johnson looked away.

"I accepted the promotion, and this assignment because it would keep me close to Earth," the commodore went on in a low voice. "Even so, I'm still not home enough, and he has his own career which takes him to other places as well. They're together constantly. He shares his work with her, confides in her, and they have so much in common. I see him maybe once a month, and so much of my work here is classified. She's giving him what I can't, and he's accepting it."

Janeway took a breath, sorrowful for both her counterpart, and for Mark who she knew must also find himself in an unbearable position.

"I doubt we will be renewing the marriage when the term is up next year," Johnson concluded. Janeway recognized the bleakness in her voice, the acknowledgment of failure, which was always anathema to her.

"I'm very sorry," Janeway said sincerely.

Johnson shrugged ever so slightly. "It happens," she said, without interest, almost as if this was something that she had already dealt with, and forgotten about. "I had just been alone for so long ... I guess we didn't work out everything we needed to in the beginning." She focused on Janeway. "I've told you mine, now it's your turn," she said, dredging up a wry grin. "You ever get up the nerve to explore possibilities with Chakotay once you knew it was over with your Mark?"

Janeway swallowed a smile. It was definitely what everyone thought would happen, even herself for a while. Until Seven entered the picture. "My first officer is quite happy with my chief engineer," she replied dryly.

Johnson looked a little shocked. "B'Elanna?" she said, eyes wide. "But she and Tom..."

"Didn't work out in my reality," Janeway said shortly. "B'Elanna and Chakotay had always shared something special. They complement each other and of course, they have the history of being in the Maquis together."

"So you're still alone," Johnson said, voice full of compassion.

Janeway could not stifle the grin. "Not exactly, no," she admitted. "There was another possibility I couldn't have anticipated until it reached up and bit me."

Johnson looked confused, thinking furiously. "Tuvok?" she guessed.

"Oh, god, no," Janeway said, trying not to laugh. "Even if he wasn't married, I drive him crazy enough just being his friend."

Johnson looked befuddled, then horrified. "Not Neelix," she ventured in a whisper.

Janeway did laugh this time. "I'll never be that alone," she said, wondering why her counterpart had suggested that name, then deciding she really didn't want to know.

"Then who?"

Janeway paused, thinking very hard about this, but she was the one who had started the whole conversation after all, instigating the discussion into their personal lives. Now she had to accept the consequences of that decision.  Ruefully, she motioned  with her head towards the figure huddled on the bed across the room. Johnson's eyes followed the gesture, then widened as she realized what Janeway was saying.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"Sometimes you can't choose who you fall in love with," Janeway said with gentle humor. "Sometimes it just happens, and it turns out to be everything you could have ever wanted or needed." Johnson stared at her and Janeway was forced to smile. "As you can imagine, we would be very appreciative of acquiring less monitored quarters," she suggested as an afterthought.

Johnson blinked, then nodded, apparently still dazed. "I'll see to it," she said. "In the meantime, if there's anything else you require..."

Janeway shook her head. "I'll let you know," she said. They stood and she found that she was reaching out her hand to her counterpart who clasped it warmly. "If nothing else, this has shown me a little of what might have been if my choices had been a bit different," she added.

Johnson dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I'm a little surprised myself," she admitted. She regarded Janeway intently. "You should get some sleep, though I know I'm probably wasting my time. We can get you set up with a work area and better quarters in the morning."

"That would be fine," Janeway said, escorting her counterpart to the door. "Good night, Commodore."

Johnson hesitated, then nodded, a glint of amusement in the blue-grey eyes. "Captain," she noted briefly.

Janeway stood for a long moment, staring blankly at the door which had slid shut behind the other woman. This was, without a doubt, one of the oddest situations she had ever been in. It was very disconcerting to have this opportunity to step outside herself, allowing her to get a view of what might have been.

She tried to control her concern about her ship as she headed for the small ensuite attached to the room, worried about Chakotay and the others, wondering what they were going through. Had the entire ship been displaced or was it limited to only her and Seven? The problem was, she didn't know where to begin. They had no tricorder on them when they entered the turbolift, and they had no data as to what had been happening on the bridge. She could only hope that her ship was intact and even now, her crew was coming up with a way to retrieve them.

She finished dressing in the Starfleet-issued sleeping garments, and went out to her own bunk which was opposite Seven's. Her partner had not moved in the last little while but for some reason, Janeway didn't think she was asleep. The captain lay on the uncomfortable mattress, staring at the ceiling in the dim illumination, wanting nothing more than to go over and wrap herself around Seven. As long as they were being monitored, she couldn't afford that indulgence, however.

"Seven, are you awake?" she whispered quietly.

There was no answer for the longest time, and Janeway decided that her supposition had been incorrect when she heard Seven's low response.

"I am awake."

Janeway swallowed hard, felt tears sting her eyes at the sadness in the voice. "Seven, you know I...." she trailed off, refusing to say the three little words which were meant only for her partner, and not for the ears of whatever Starfleet technician was responsible for the security monitors on this room. It was too personal and too private, rarely said in front of Voyager's crew who were actually as close as family to her; she was damned if some stranger should hear it. Yet, she wanted so much to connect with Seven, to let her know that she wasn't forgotten, that the situation was as hard on her as it was on the young Borg.

There was a pause.

"I know," Seven said softly. She hesitated. "I do, too."

The couple had to content themselves with that as finally, sleep overcame them both.

"What are you saying here?" Chakotay said, a touch of annoyance tingeing his voice. It had been a long time since he had slept, and he could feel the fatigue seep through him like an insidious presence, dragging him down physically and emotionally. How did the captain do it? he wondered. Go for days on end and never loose her edge. He could barely keep his eyes open.

It had been a week since they had encountered the anomaly, had been impacted by the sudden surge of energy which had erupted spear-like from the pinkish cloud to pierce the ship's hull, stabbing through it to the space beyond. It had disrupted all their systems, taking hours for main power to be restored. Fortunately, casualties had been light in the sudden shaking the ship had undergone but it hadn't taken them long to realize they had missing personnel. Initially, to their great horror, they had believed that the energy wave had disintegrated the captain and Seven inside the damaged turbolift. It was only now that B'Elanna Torres and Lt. Harry Kim were offering a new perspective.

"We think it was more than just an energy wave," B'Elanna said. "It was actually a corridor to another reality."

"One that took the Captain and Seven," Harry added, his dark eyes intent. The greenest of ensigns fresh out of the Academy when Voyager had been swept into the Delta Quadrant, he was finally starting to grow into himself and all his potential. "They're not dead, just ... somewhere else."

"Where?" Chakotay asked.

"That's what we'll have to find out," B'Elanna said. "By recreating the energy burst and duplicating its signature."

"Then what?" he asked, staring at her.

The raven-haired Klingon shared a glance with Harry. "Then one of us goes through, finds the captain and Seven, and brings them back."

"That simple," Voyager's first officer said, and if there was a touch of skepticism in his tone, it was warranted.

There was no question that the two crewmembers standing before him were absolutely brilliant, and over the span of five years, had come up with countless innovative and remarkable methods of getting things done, incredible things that seemed impossible at first glance. But this was a little unspecific, even for them. He rubbed the tribal tattoo on his forehead with the back of his thumb, an unconscious gesture of worry and dismay.

He glanced over at Tuvok who had been listening to this without comment, one Vulcan eyebrow elegantly raised. The security chief regarded him impassively.

"We have little in the way of alternatives," he pointed out.

"That's true," Chakotay admitted and shifted uneasily in his seat. This chair at the head of the conference table had always seemed uncomfortable to him, just as the command chair on the bridge did. He was always aware that it wasn't his, that whenever he sat in it, he was merely keeping it warm for its true owner. "All right, how long before we can replicate this?"

"A few days, maybe a week," B'Elanna guessed. Considering she was contemplating the inconceivable, Chakotay figured he should be surprised it would take so long.

He held out his hands, spreading them in a gesture of surrender. "Do it," he ordered. He looked at Tom Paris who was observing him closely. "Maintain station-keeping here."

His support staff nodded crisply and vacated the conference room, leaving behind B'Elanna who got up and moved next to him, leaning against the table. He looked up at her, seeing the determination in her eyes, and with a weary smile, he reached out to take her hand.

"Can you do this?" he asked in a private tone, lover to lover, not acting captain to chief engineer.

"I have to," she said simply. She bent down and kissed him gently, biting at his bottom lip.

He held her for a moment before letting her go, knowing she was anxious to get started on this. "It was such bad luck," he muttered, almost to himself. "The way the beam came through, it missed everyone else. It would have missed the captain and Seven if the turbolift had just been a little slower or faster."

"We can't worry about what might have been," B'Elanna said softly. "We have to deal with what is. I'm going to get them back, Chakotay. Count on it."

Commodore Johnson led Seven and Janeway through the corridor toward their new quarters, which were on the upper levels of the base, escorted by a security team who bore only hand phasers, but were still quite watchful of their 'guests'. Seven ignored them, concentrating only on her partner and the captain's counterpart. She had decided that as time progressed, it was becoming easier for her to separate the two Janeways, not just by their uniform or their look, but by the aura they emanated. She had no words to describe this, but she was now able to distinguish which one was speaking to her, even without looking. Perhaps it was simply the love in her Kathryn's voice that was missing in the other's, the adoration only she could hear threading through the wonderfully husky tone. Seven studied the two surreptitiously as they walked in front of her, two compact forms striding briskly side-by-side through the hall, auburn-haired twins radiating a sense of power and command. Yet, on the right, her Kathryn had just a little more energy, a little more ease to the set of her shoulders, a little more crispness in her motion.

It made Seven uneasy. She had always been aware of the burden her partner carried, but she had assumed it was a result of being lost in the Delta Quadrant, of being completely responsible for the ship, as well as being the sole representative of Starfleet within thousands of light-years. Commodore Johnson, one the other hand, was home and no longer responsible for Voyager, or the lives of her crew, yet she still seemed more burdened than Kathryn, almost defeated in a way. It was an intriguing puzzle, and Seven was thoroughly absorbed in her observation when an interruption jolted her out of her musing.

"There you are," came an oddly familiar voice behind them. "Dammit, Commodore, I've been searching all over this base for you."

Commodore Johnson turned, annoyance and dismay warring for dominance in her expression. Seven had the briefest impression of a tall, impatient figure that brushed past her, and planted herself in front of the commodore, hands on her hips, a petulant expression on her face. Seven was marginally aware of Janeway moving to her side, staring at the newcomer in total fascination.  Seven supposed that she was equally astounded by what she was seeing.

"Dr. Hansen, which part of 'Authorized Starfleet Personnel Only' are you having trouble understanding?" Johnson said, gazing up at her opponent with a set jaw, reminiscent of a Terran bulldog.

"I need to know the specs for the experimental ship if we're ever going to get this done," Dr. Annika Hansen snapped back, blue eyes sparking. She was dressed in a long, white lab coat, her blonde hair done up in a bun that was disarrayed, as if neatness was of no concern. "I don't know what pet project Starfleet has you working on now, but you're supposed to be concentrating on...."

Dr. Hansen seemed to notice the two Voyager crewmembers for the first time, and her voice trailed off as she regarded  Janeway and Seven ... mostly Seven ... with complete and utter shock.

"What the hell's going on here?" she blurted, eyes wide.

Seven raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with her counterpart. This 'Dr. Hansen' seemed so ... disorganized. It wasn't just the mussed hair, or the less than precise form of speaking. The lab coat, as well as the plain clothes underneath, were spotted with grease and fluid, and Seven's nostrils quivered as she detected the acrid odor of conduit sealant wafting from the woman.

"What's going on here is about to provide you with a small vacation, I'm afraid," Johnson said crisply, and nodded at the two security guards who had been accompanying them. They immediately flanked the young woman. "This is a highly classified situation, and you've trespassed into a secured area."

Dr. Hansen was furious. "You can't do this," she barked. "I'm a civilian, Johnson. You have no right to hold me against my will. Just what are you doing anyway? Are these clones? That's completely unethical."

"It's a long story," Johnson replied, her eyes flashing a deep grey. "But one you'll have plenty of time to hear."

Without another word, she strode down the corridor. Janeway and Seven hesitated, then scurried to catch up, Dr. Hansen and her guards bringing up the rear.

"Commodore, I want to know what's going on," the scientist insisted, her voice strident in the enclosed halls.  Seven wondered if she sounded as irritating when she raised her voice.  Not much wonder Kathryn used to become so annoyed with her during the arguments they shared during the early stages of their relationship.

Johnson ignored the young woman as she led them into a large, comfortably decorated suite at the far end of a corridor, which was interrupted by several force field emitters.  Directly across the hall, there was a laboratory filled with consoles and equipment, and it was clear that this was an area sectioned off from the rest of the facility.

Finally, the commodore turned to address them, staring primarily at Dr. Hansen.  "I have to see about covering your absence," Johnson told the infuriated scientist. "In the meantime, you are to stay with them. I'm sure they'll be glad to fill you in. While you will be free to travel about the upper level and the administration level, just as they are, you will not have clearance to return to the transwarp labs past level two so long as this situation exists.  Is that understood?"

The tall physicist glared at the Starfleet officer. "You can't just  keep me away from my work," she said coldly. "There'll be an outcry from the rest of the team when I disappear."

"Only one of joy, I suspect," Johnson replied shortly. "You might as well calm down and help us figure this mess out."

"What mess?" Hansen said. "What about my experiments?"

"I guess you should have thought about that before you wandered into a secured area," Johnson said. "What exactly did you come in here for anyway? Surely it wasn't to find me. You just wanted to know what was going on, didn't you?"

Caught, Hansen frowned, then glanced at the other two. "Can't they talk?" she asked. "They don't look very intelligent."

"We're not clones," Janeway said calmly. She raked the woman with a look that seemed to dissect her. "As for talking, you seem to be doing enough for all of us."

Hansen's frown grew larger, her gaze darting back and forth between Janeway and Seven. "I'll be damned if I know what Starfleet has in mind creating you two," she said. "Duplicates? Are you shape-shifters? Changelings?"

"Captain Janeway and I are from a parallel universe," Seven remarked, finally finding her voice. "You and I are the same person, but from different realities."

Dr. Hansen blinked. "You're kidding," she said.

"I assure you, I am not," Seven said. She tilted her head slightly, regarding her other. "You were never assimilated."

"Assimilated?" Hansen echoed. "You mean ... by the Borg?"

"Yes," Seven responded. "My parents and I were assimilated in the Delta Quadrant nineteen years ago."

"Woah! Waitaminute!" Hansen threw her hands up and walked away, clearly taking a moment to adjust.

Seven noticed that Johnson and the security guards had unobtrusively taken their leave, and she wondered if the force fields had been erected in their wake. The quarters themselves were quite generous, the expansive living area decorated in Starfleet blue and silver, while a small, but complete, dining area was set off to the side, boasting a table with four chairs.  Through various open doorways, the Borg could see what had to be bedrooms, large double beds which were already made up with linens and bedding, and the young woman was struck by a sudden qualm. She certainly hoped that the amount of sleeping quarters didn't mean she was still expected to still stay apart from Kathryn. She stubbornly decided that she simply wouldn't accept that decision should Janeway attempt to make it.

The captain had taken a seat on the sofa, and was watching them both keenly. Her gaze caught Seven's, and the Borg thought that Janeway was mildly amused with this incarnation of her partner. Seven did not share this amusement, and she frowned at the captain, trying to ignore Hansen who was pacing erratically about the room as if she could not contain the energy bubbling within, examining everything while darting baffled glances in the direction of the two Voyager crewmembers at random intervals.

"Nineteen years ago, Mama and Papa were studying the Borg," Dr. Hansen said finally, as if deciding that the only way to figure this out was to explain her presence. "They were exobiologists and managed to gather a huge amount of information on them, including a great deal about the transwarp coils that power their vessels.  When I went into engineering, I drew on that data while trying to develop a transwarp propulsion system for Federation ships.  My parents were never assimilated, however.  They had one close call which scared them enough to abort the rest of their studies, and subsequently made their way back to the Alpha Quadrant where they presented their findings to the Federation Council.  Fortunately, it was enough to pardon the various ... indiscretions ... they had committed in their pursuit of their subjects.  What's your story?"

Seven thought that over for a moment. "In my reality, they were unable to avoid being noticed by the Borg, and were perceived as a threat," she said. She hesitated, seeking memories which were vague and lost in the mists of time and trauma. "I was only six when it happened, but I know their experiments were very important, and that we lived on the Raven for a very long time."

Her voice had gotten softer, taking on the childlike tone it always did when she was struggling to remember the time before the Collective.

"We believe that the Hansens were the first Humans the Borg encountered," Janeway interrupted suddenly, standing up and drifting over to Seven, hovering protectively by her. "The Raven crashed on a world deep within the Delta Quadrant, but the Hansens were unable to escape assimilation. Seven was a Borg drone from the time she was six until I severed her from the Collective eighteen years later."

"Incredible," Annika said, staring at them both. "When I was six, my parents joined the Daystrom Institute. They're still there, in fact. That's where I was raised, and went to school."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "I'm impressed," she allowed.

"The 'Daystrom Institute'?" Seven asked, looking at Janeway quizzically.

"It's similar to Starfleet Academy, Seven," Janeway explained. "However, it's devoted to purely theoretical pursuits and the development of science personnel. Only the very best minds graduate from there."

Seven thought about that. She knew that she had a unique sort of memory, and that she was considered extremely intelligent by the Voyager crew, but she had believed that a lot of it had to do with having the knowledge of thousands of species in her mind, of her experience in the Collective. Now, it appeared that her intelligence was a natural occurrence.

Hansen was regarding Janeway narrowly. "You're Johnson's counterpart, aren't you?" she said, more a statement than a question. "You're only a captain. Are you as close-minded and rigid an individual?"

"Janeway is the finest captain in the fleet," Seven said abruptly, frowning as she regarded the scientist. "Furthermore, she is my captain. She deserves far better than that tone of disrespect from you."

"Don't tell me you've let Starfleet brainwash you?" Hansen said with a trace of disgust. "I would have expected better of myself. But then," she added in an afterthought. "Being assimilated probably left you open to all sorts of suggestion. Johnson's always been good at getting her own way. Even if it is the most asinine, limited, militaristic way there is. I suppose Janeway is the same way. "

Seven took a breath. She knew that she was being insulted by the other woman. That was irrelevant. However, it was also clear that Kathryn was being insulted as well, and that was simply intolerable. She reached out to grab her counterpart, fully intending to turn her upside down until she apologized. Janeway forestalled the motion, grabbing her arms, and imposing herself between Seven and Dr. Hansen.

"Seven of Nine," she said intently, looking into Seven's face. "Whatever problems our counterparts have with each other, it does not concern us. All we need to worry about is returning to where we belong, all right?"

Seven hesitated, staring down into the beloved features of her partner. "Very well," she agreed grudgingly, after a moment. "However, there is no need for her to insult you."

Dr. Hansen was staring at them both with a confounded expression on her face. "You two actually get along," she muttered with a certain sort of disbelief.

"We are engaged," Seven said proudly, glaring at her. "I love Kathryn."

She was aware of Janeway wincing slightly, and she knew that she had probably revealed more than the captain wanted her to, but she was tired of hiding her feelings for Kathryn. In any event, she had overheard the captain tell Johnson that they were involved when she had eavesdropped shamelessly the night before, though, of course, it had been in Janeway's typical, roundabout fashion she used whenever she was discussing her private life, so it was hardly a secret any longer.

"Oh, boy," Dr. Hansen said in a faint voice. She went over and sat down on a chair unsteadily. "I can't imagine a universe where I would ever be in love with Commodore Kathryn Johnson."

"I am not in love with Commodore Johnson," Seven corrected, wanting to be as precise as possible. "I am in love with Captain Janeway."

Dr. Hansen hesitated. "What's the difference?"

Captain Janeway let go of Seven, and went over to sit on the couch opposite the young scientist, leaning forward and granting the woman her full attention. "Perhaps none," she offered quietly. "I don't know what the basis is for your conflict with the Commodore, but in our reality, Seven and I make a very good team, working together with the rest of my crew toward a common goal ... returning to the Alpha Quadrant. Any conflicts we've had in the past, we've managed to resolve."

"I'd say you have, especially if you're engaged," Hansen responded tartly.

Janeway shook her head slightly. "No, it's more a matter of accepting each other for who we are," she said, thoughtfully. "I admit, it wasn't easy in the beginning, and we did have our share of problems, but I've always appreciated Seven's intelligence, and she's always respected my responsibilities. I do know that there'll never be a better person suited to me than Annika is ... or me to her." She paused, looking at the suddenly confused young woman with her most compassionate expression. "In any event, I am fully aware of the great capabilities of Seven's mind, and I know that yours must be equally as formidable. Will you help us find a way back to our own reality?"

Dr. Hansen regarded the captain as if she had never encountered anything like her before. Seven thought she knew what Hansen was feeling. Janeway was a unique individual, even accounting for parallel universes, and her presence was something that could not help affecting even the strongest personality. It had certainly affected Seven from the very first moment she laid eyes on the small, energetic woman on that fateful day so long ago in a Borg Cube.

"I'll do what I can," the scientist said finally. She flicked a glance toward Seven. "Besides, this is all so weird that I'd hate to miss finding out on what happens in the end. I've always known I was capable of great things. Having two of us in action should be phenomenal."

Seven raised an eyebrow. She was glad to see that modesty was not a failing her other self suffered from either.

Captain Janeway stood in front of the sink in the ensuite attached to her assigned room, frowning as she studied her features in the mirror. She did have a few more lines around her eyes than the last time she checked, but that was to be expected, considering all she had been through the past couple of years. Still, there was a definite clearness to her features that her counterpart did not have. She had been afraid that she also displayed that sense of bone-deep weariness in her eyes that Johnson seemed to have as a constant companion. What could be so different?

It's happiness, Katie, her little voice prodded. Despite being lost in the Delta Quadrant, despite not knowing what's going on back home, at your core, in the center of all you are, you're happy. Johnson isn't. She may have returned to the Alpha Quadrant, but her marriage is failing, she's stuck in a desk job babysitting a bunch of spoiled civilians, and she isn't where she belongs ... at the conn of a starship. Bringing Voyager home is never going to be enough to make up for that. You just thank your lucky stars that in your reality, Seven became a part of your life.

Janeway sighed. When Johnson had returned later in the day, it was to inform them that Hansen would be staying in the suite with them for the time being. Janeway hadn't liked it, but she understood the necessity for it. It was probably what she would have done, but Seven had given her such an odd look when Janeway had assigned bedrooms that the captain had developed a definite sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wondered how furious her partner was at having to remain separate from her for a bit longer.

How much longer? Her voice asked snidely. We may be here for the foreseeable future. It's not like you have any sort of clue about returning to our own reality.

Janeway really didn't want to think about that. In truth, it gave her a sick feeling in her chest, and she could feel a palpable sense of panic dance around the edges of her mind. Rarely had she been in a position where, not only did she have no idea how to solve the problem, she was completely stymied as to where to start. Nor could she see how anyone else could could ocme up with a solution, either.

She took a deep breath. Go to bed, she told herself sternly. A little sleep could help ... it certainly couldn't hurt ... and she honestly couldn't think of anything else to do. Feeling helpless, she left the ensuite and walked into the bedroom.

Seven of Nine was stretched out on the bed, blonde head propped up on her hand, elbow bent, regarding Janeway with an avid intensity. She wqas also quite gloriously naked.

"Annika?"

Seven bent her head, eyes dark, brows lowered as she glowered at her. "I have placed Borg encryption codes on the door seal," she said, forestalling the captain's objections. "A complete scan has revealed no surveillance equipment or monitoring devices. We are completely alone within this room."

Janeway caught her breath. "Seven, we can't," she said weakly. "This is inappropriate considering the situation we're in."

"That is an unacceptable conclusion," Seven said firmly.

"Seven...." Janeway's voice trailed off as she read the look in those eyes, becoming aware that this was an argument she could not win. For that matter, it was not an argument she particularly wanted to win.

"Yes?"

"We'll have to be ... very quiet," the captain said in a warning tone.

The smile that spread over the Borg's face lit up the entire room, and set her sapphire eyes aglow. "I might point out that it was not my vocal emanations that required additional soundproofing be added to our quarters on Voyager," she pointed out silkily.

"Oh, my darling," Janeway countered warmly. "You were very responsible for that."

Seven raised her head, continuing to smile. "Very well," she said. Her look intensified. "Are you coming to bed?"

Janeway glanced down at the drab grey Starfleet-issued pyjamas, then looked back at Seven as she grinned. "I was on my way," she admitted. "I suppose it would be a good idea to lose these."

"You are beautiful in whatever you wear," Seven assured her. "However, it would be acceptable if you were to remove them."

Janeway shimmied out of the simple cotton outfit, and stood before Seven's appreciative gaze, feeling suddenly shy though she didn't know why. She knew she had been blessed with a fast metabolism that left her lean and wiry, but she also could not deny that stress and time were starting to take their toll, her belly rounding into middle age instead of the board flatness she had enjoyed when she was Seven's age, the breasts no longer displaying the perkiness of youth, sagging slightly on her chest. On the other hand, she wouldn't want to be in her twenties again, she thought. She rather liked the person she had become, and the sheer love and naked want in Seven's eyes made her feel like the most desirable being in all the universes.

"Come here," Seven requested huskily. "Please."

Janeway slipped into the bed next to her partner, feeling Seven's arms wrap lovingly around her torso as she buried her head into the soft hollow of Seven's shoulder, clinging to her tightly. It felt so good to touch her once more, to feel the wonderfully lush body pressing tightly against hers. For a moment, she gloried in the utter delight of being with Seven again, of having these warm arms holding her so powerfully, protectively, shielding her from the cold reality outside. The fear and helplessness she had been feeling, receded as she absorbed the embrace, wanting nothing more than to confide her apprehension to Seven, yet remaining hesitant. She was Seven's captain. She had to be strong for her.

"What is causing your concern?" Seven asked quietly, cradling the captain gently without any attempt to do anything beyond, apparently knowing something was troubling her partner.

"Nothing," Janeway whispered. "I'm just so glad to be with you again."

"I am glad to be with you," Seven told her, as she kissed her temple tenderly. "However, there is still something bothering you. Tell me."

Janeway took a long, slow breath, inhaling the warm scent of her lover, completely unable to resist the demand in the soft voice.

"Oh, darling," she said reluctantly. "We are in such trouble."

"We have been in trouble before," Seven reminded her with quiet humor. "We, undoubtedly, will be again, but if you are referring to the fact that we have little data regarding our present situation, then you must realize, I will find a solution. I always do. Additionally, you have two of us working on the problem."

"I do, don't I?" Janeway smiled, reassured by the confidence in her lover's voice despite knowing that Seven was far from omnipotent. Yet, Seven also knew her captain was less than perfect ... and had complete faith in her, anyway. Could Janeway do any less?

"I also believe that Voyager is currently working on a way to retrieve us," Seven added.

"If they're able," Janeway noted with some apprehension.

"We have no way of knowing in either case," Seven said. "Unless we have evidence to the contrary, I prefer to believe that B'Elanna is working just as hard as I and my counterpart will be in determining a way to find us." She paused. "It would be helpful if this universe's Lt. Torres could assist."

Janeway shook her head. "This reality's Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres were assigned to the USS Liberty," she said. "They're on patrol along the front. Even if we could lure her away from Captain Scott, she couldn't return here in anything less than two months."

"Unfortunate," Seven said. She reached up and stroked Janeway's hair gently, raking her fingers through the short locks soothingly. "I know that you are worried," she added. "You must have hope, Kathryn."

Janeway chuckled. "I'm usually the one telling you that," she said. "You would tell me that hope is irrelevant."

"Perhaps before," Seven whispered. "No longer. When I was assimilated, I had nothing. I would rather have hope."

"That's a good way to be," Janeway said. She pulled back a little so that she could look into her lover's narrow features. "I promise. I'll try to maintain my hope as well."

Seven smiled and bent her head, resting her forehead on Janeway's. "That is all I can request," she said. "I will not fail you."

"I know you won't," Janeway said, kissing her gently on the nose. "You never have."

She closed her eyes as Seven pulled her against her, feeling the generous mouth seek out and capture her lips. How long had it been since they last kissed? If she couldn't pinpoint the time exactly, then it was far too long. She made a soft sound in her throat as she was captivated by the taste and touch of her partner, remembering too late that she was supposed to be quiet.

"Oh dear," she said throatily as Seven finally released her. "I don't know that I can keep the noise down."

"Then, do not," Seven said firmly. "If my other self is disturbed by the sound of people in love, then that is her problem."

Janeway laughed, raising her head as Seven proceeded to nibble her way along her neck and over her jaw, reveling in the feel of the young woman against her. "Darling, I think I'm a bit uncomfortable knowing someone might hear us," she said.

Seven growled and bit her earlobe.

"Ow," Janeway yelped, more startled than stung by the unexpected nip. "Have you been receiving tips in making love from B'Elanna again?"

"You worry too much about irrelevant things," Seven insisted softly. "I am here, you are here, we are together. That is the only thing that need concern either of us."

Janeway looked at her, then smiled slowly. "You're absolutely right, my darling," she said, unable to resist granting the point as she dipped her head to look into Seven's eyes. "I surrender. I'm completely yours for the next hour or so."

"Several hours," Seven corrected promptly. "It has been a long time since we have been able to make love."

"Oh my," Janeway said, then was forced to stop speaking as her mouth was captured by a suddenly possessive Seven who kissed her deeply, pressing the captain down onto the mattress.

Janeway ran her hands over the silky smooth back, accepting the weight pressing on her joyously, loving the feel of the body covering her so warmly. How long had it been since that morning when they had been interrupted? How long since she had been with the woman she loved?

Far too long, she decided, and swore to herself that she wouldn't worry about anything else but Seven. Because, in the end, Seven was the only thing that mattered.

Seven felt the woman beneath her respond with unmistakable desire, felt the captain's fingers press into her shoulders, exploring the line of bone and flesh with a  touch that sent shivers through her. She so adored Kathryn, wanted and needed her so much. The taste of her was intoxicating, and she kissed her as if drinking from a well after a long drought. How had she managed to get through that month without making love to her, how had she survived being deprived of the feel of the compact body against her? Sometimes it seemed like she could not get close enough to her, could not love her enough.

She felt the captain's hands moving restlessly on her back, stroking her from the top of the Borg's neck down to the base of her spine where gentle fingertips traced the twin implants set into the dimples there. The flesh was numb in the immediate vicinity of the implants, and the sensation was limited, as indeed, most of her torso had been prior to the removal of her abdominal mesh. Still, Seven appreciated that Janeway did not avoid her implants when making love, but the young woman was much more aware of the way the rest of her body felt in those areas which were no longer desensitized. Seven settled on the soft swell of Kathryn's stomach under hers with a sweet perception, almost being tickled by the silky smooth skin as they moved together, while the delicate sharpness of Janeway's nipples jabbed into the underside of her breasts with pure pleasure. Their legs were entwined warmly, and Seven felt Janeway tangle them even more, wrapping one around the back of her calf. There was just so much sensation now, and she wiggled delightedly against the captain's body, trying to put as large an area of skin against Kathryn as possible.

Janeway laughed deep in her throat, as if understanding what Seven was trying to do, and she pressed up against the younger woman, increasing the range of her hands' exploration, running them over the young woman's ribs and hips, cupping the buttocks which she squeezed tightly, making Seven push against her. Seven gasped as she felt their groins scrape together, the hairs pulling and tangling, but in a very pleasurable way, arousing and exciting her. Then, Janeway was shifting beneath her, and before Seven quite realized what was happening, the captain had rolled them over so that she was on top.

This was nice too, Seven considered, as she felt Kathryn's much lighter mass press down on her. She liked how Janeway's thighs fell to either side of her leg naturally, so that the wet, warm area was pressed intimately against the top of her thigh. She bent her knee, pushing up against the captain, felt her undulate briefly against it. Janeway liked to pleasure herself like this, but not regularly, and apparently not this time because she fell on Seven's breasts, sucking on the nipples avidly, biting at them gently, and the Borg groaned, arching up to provide Kathryn with more of her ample flesh.

Seven loved how her partner felt on her, how her mouth was so incredibly skilled at doing the most wonderful things to her body. The older woman's tongue swirled against the areolas, then flicked the hard nubbins of flesh, feeling the suction of her lips cause them to become even firmer. The small hands squeezed and fondled the soft flesh, and while Seven did not share Kathryn's acute sensitivity in this area, she thoroughly enjoyed the attention the captain paid to her breasts, how it made ripples of pleasure run through her stomach, how it caused her to generate copious amounts of moisture between her legs, and how it made her want Kathryn so much, it actually hurt inside. She raked the fingers of her right hand through the short auburn hair that fell so soft about the beautiful face, tracing gently the line of her ears, and then down the back of her neck, lingering on her spine.

"Spread your legs, darling," Janeway commanded huskily, and Seven moaned again, the throaty voice sending chills through her before she had even been touched. She complied eagerly, feeling the long, elegant fingers stroke the inside of her thighs, running lightly over the silk smooth skin there.

However, Janeway liked to tease the Borg, almost as much as Seven liked to tease her in return, and the captain made no move to touch her where the young woman so desperately wanted to be touched, continuing to concentrate on the inside of her thighs, stroking featherlight down to her knees, then back up, going ever so close ... agonizingly close ... before shifting over to the other leg. Seven knew the captain wanted her to cry out, wanted her to plead, but she resisted, biting her lip to keep the words back even as the gentle strokes made her moan and arch up. Janeway was without mercy, however, and finally Seven broke, a complete surrender offered willingly by the Borg.

"Kathryn, please," she whispered. "Oh, please, touch me. Please."

And Janeway did, her fingertips lightly touching the crease, then one fingertip parted it to slip so easily against Seven, moving over the hard little center that ached with a sweet pleasure, fondling it so gently, carefully, swirling over it.

"Kathryn!"

Seven cried out, and groped above her head until her left hand closed over one of the decorative metal rods which made up the headboard. It immediately began to bend and distort, but it stayed attached to the wall, and that was all that mattered as Seven gripped it tightly, the metal crumpling beneath the implant that exerted amazing amounts of pressure as the young woman felt Kathryn slip her finger carefully into her, stroking her deeply. Quickly, they achieved an easy rhythm that Seven responded to with her hips, and she cried out again, incoherent, lost in the pleasure being granted her by her beloved. Her belly tightened, the ecstasy racing down to where Janeway had added a second finger which caressed her so intimately, and then she was spasming helplessly, her body pulsating, trying to draw Kathryn into her deeper. Wanting her as part of her soul, Seven was helpless in the physical response that set her heart to racing, dried the tissue of her mouth as she gasped for air, and made her feel as if her entire body was being dissolved into pure sensation, utter emotion.

When she returned to herself, Kathryn was kissing her mouth passionately, hungrily, and she knew exactly what her partner wanted, needing to give it to her as much. She growled, unaware that she had done so, and rolled them over, pressing down on Kathryn heavily, spreading her legs with an inserted knee even as the captain pulled her down. She tried not to be rough as she licked and kissed the small breasts, even though Kathryn seemed to welcome the forcefulness of it. Worming her hand between their bodies, Seven found the heat that drew her in with incredible ease, and the captain dug her fingernails into her back, almost clawing at her as Seven pushed into her, flexing her fingers hard. It was not as gentle as she preferred, but sometimes Kathryn disdained the younger woman's deliberate, careful gentleness, wanting to be taken completely. Somehow, with an instinct which came from being in love, Seven knew this was one of those times, and she did her best to comply even as she was careful to hold back the greater part of her strength.

She reared up, and found Kathryn's mouth, kissing her hard, possessively, and to her surprise, she felt the woman react with an unmistakable sound, felt the heat and wetness grip her with incredible tightness, and she knew her lover was climaxing. It had happened so quickly ... much quicker than normal ... and she wondered at it even as she continued to caress her. Nor did she ease off though she wasn't sure why, keeping the captain from relaxing into the afterglow, intensifying her motion and within minutes, she felt Janeway climax again, seemingly even harder, then again, and still Seven continued to take Kathryn, the couple utilizing the entire expanse of the bed in their frenzied lovemaking, until finally, the Borg knew it was enough, though how she understood it was beyond her. Carefully, Seven released the woman who was helpless in her arms, sobbing from the intensity and duration of it, as they relaxed onto the mattress.

Bemused, Seven cuddled her, unsure of what had caused her to act in such a manner. "Kathryn," she asked quietly. "Are you all right? I am sorry if I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me, darling," Kathryn whispered back, collampsed against the Borg's side, the captain's head resting on her shoulder, arm wrapped around her chest, leg thrown wantonly over Seven's hips. "You were wonderful, exactly what I needed tonight. How did you know?"

Seven shook her head. "I do not know," she said. "I just ... felt it."

"Then by all means, follow your instincts," the captain uttered in a delightfully throaty voice.

"I shall," Seven allowed. She cupped the beloved face in her palm and raised it to her so she could kiss Kathryn with a thoroughness that left the captain trembling. "Now I want to taste you," she murmured against the lips.

"Oh god," Kathryn said, and Seven heard her swallow hard. "I don't know if I have anything left."

"Let us find out, shall we?" Seven prompted, nuzzling the small ear.

"If you insist," Kathryn allowed. After a brief pause just to show that she had given the idea suitable consideration.

"I do," Seven said, and rolled her over once more.

Seven of Nine strolled out of the bedroom with an unbearably smug look on her face, and Annika Hansen regarded it through bleary eyes, wondering what the punishment was for murdering one's own self. Assisted suicide, perhaps?  The scientist hadn't caught a wink of sleep the previous evening, though she freely admitted that neither had her counterpart if the noise was any indication. The construction of the dividing walls in the complex was not as dense as a starship hull, and the unmistakable sounds that had wafted through them left little soubt as to what exactly had been going on for what seemed most of the night.

"Good morning," the Borg said politely. Her voice was clipped and precise, Annika noted, even when expressing passion as she had at several intervals. Loudly. Annika would have sworn that she had even heard the sound of twisting metal on more than one occasion, though her imagination was simply not extensive enough to speculate on a cause for that.

"It's morning," Annika growled, "but it's hardly a good one."

Seven raised an eyebrow, regarding her quizzically. "Is there something wrong?"

"Besides being locked up with two cats in heat?" Annika said. "How about this stuff they call food." She pushed irritably at the yellow mound on her plate, which apparently was supposed to be scrambled eggs.

Seven frowned briefly, scanned the buffet which had been delivered by two Starfleet ensigns earlier in the morning. There were a variety of foods offered, and plenty of each dish, but flavor was something that Starfleet did not deem particularly important.

"It is typical Starfleet issue," the Borg noted. "Sufficient, if bland. It merely requires enhancement."

Annika put down her fork and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she eyed the other woman dubiously. "Enhancement?"

Seven went over to the small, limited replicator where she programmed in several small containers filled with powders and herbs. Before Annika's startled eyes, the Borg proceeded to combine them with the various dishes on the table, and within minutes, had replaced the plate in front of her with one of Seven's own devising. Highly skeptical, Annika gingerly tried a bite, and was astonished at the flavors that exploded in her mouth.

"Oh, my god," the scientist said. "What did you do? This is delicious."

"Merely added certain spices," Seven replied, looking at her oddly. "You do not cook?"

"What, you mean from scratch?" Annika stared at her blankly. "Are you a Traditionalist?"

Seven blinked. "I enjoy the preparation of food," she said.

"And does it wonderfully," Janeway interjected as she entered the room.

The captain's hair was still damp from her shower, the compact figure moving alertly in the out-of-date uniform of black and red. She nodded politely at Annika as she took a seat at the table, tucking elegantly into the plate Seven placed in front of her.

Annika studied her surreptitiously, wondering at the enigma that the older woman presented. Captain Janeway was such a composed sort of woman, much like Commodore Johnson, radiating competence even while doing something so basic as eating. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had rattled the rafters the night before with howls of the most obvious delight. Annika discovered she was smirking and forced herself to stop. Still, it would be interesting to know if this woman could be needled.

"Sleep well?" she said sweetly, regarding Janeway with what she hoped was polite interest, and nothing more.

Apparently she had underestimated the captain's perception, because Janeway abruptly halted in mid-motion, fork halfway to her mouth, and seared the young woman with such a look that Annika thought she would probably explode into flames at any second. Blushing furiously, the scientist stammered, "I mean, I...not that I heard...I mean...." She took a breath. "I slept well," she added brightly.

"That is incorrect," Seven noted calmly from where she sat, consuming her own breakfast. "You indicated that we disturbed you greatly throughout the evening."

Both Annika and Janeway stared at Seven who seemed to realize that the two other women thought that she was not supposed to have pointed that out. She raised an eyebrow at Janeway. "She did not," she insisted somewhat defensively. "She compared us to 'cats in heat'."

Well, Annika thought, she might not be able to put a dent in Janeway, but her counterpart certainly could.  The young physicist certainly had never seen Johnson blush that hard. Yet, the captain was remarkably composed as she turned to Annika, apparently having adapted to being put on the spot by Seven.

"I apologize if we made it difficult for you to sleep," she said with incredible poise.

"Uh, no problem," Annika said. She was about to say something else, but realized there was absolutely nothing she could comment on that would not sound absolutely stupid. She took a breath, and deliberately changed the subject. "Do you have any idea what we're going to do to get you home?"

A shadow seemed to pass over the captain's face, and Annika noted that Seven immediately reached out to put her fingers on Janeway's arm. It was the Borg that answered. "We shall begin by assembling all the data the Federation and Starfleet has on alternate realities," she said. "There have been other incidents in the past that could help us. In addition, we shall go over the turbolift where we first appeared in this universe."

Annika nodded. "Sure," she said. "There ought to be some sort of energy reading on the ship."

"By adjusting the scanning capacity of the standard tricorders, we can allow for readings that do not normally register," Seven went on.

"We can try this," Annika added, pushing her plate to the side as she used the white tablecloth as a sketch padd to write out some equations, having fished a stylus from her lab coat pocket.

Before long, the two women were avidly exchanging possible avenues of exploration although Seven seemed a bit taken aback at Annika's use of the table rather than a padd. However, she soon fell into the swing of things, adding several suggestions, then gingerly taking the graphite stick, and marking her own additions to the rapidly increasing scribbles.

When Annika looked up briefly at one point, she saw Janeway regarding her partner with an odd, yet recognizable expression on her face.

It was one of unmistakable pride, and completely unreserved adoration.

Janeway left the two Hansens deeply immersed, having moved their work over to the lab across the hall where the facility's database could be brought in to bolster their equations. She was feeling a whole lot better about things as she entered the corridor, and wandered through the upper level of the base, exploring her surroundings, limited as they were. Seven and Annika seemed to have things well in hand, and it had been enlightening to see how the two fed off one another, pushing to come up with some new equation, some possible course of action. This could not help but be good for her partner, she decided ... no matter what the outcome was.

It had been some time since she had been on Mars, though it had always been one of her favorite places, and Janeway decided to take the time to go for a walk on the surface. It had been the first place she had ever left Earth to visit, a trip with her father where she had been exposed to the world she would one day make her own ... that of Starfleet.

Zefram Cochrane's discovery of warp speed, and the subsequent arrival of Vulcans had propelled Earth into a technological renaissance that had eventually resulted in the creation of replicators and transporters. Terra-forming, which had been only theory before, became reality, and Humans eagerly adapted the planets where they had only possessed struggling colonies before. Mars had been the first, and now it held an atmosphere with freely flowing water, while its lighter gravity sent genetically altered foliage towering over the reddish soil.

This base, however, seemed to be in the more desolate region opposite Olympus Mons, the planet's highest mountain which bordered the Mars colony. The area surrounding the station was devoid of plant life, hosting the jagged, rust-colored rock formations which were more true to the original character of the planet, than the manmade forests and plains on the other side of the mountain. Janeway recognized the depths of a quarry just beyond the base's surrounding energized fence, and realized it was an extension of the same network of mining tunnels and craters that she had dived in when she was much younger. She smiled as she remembered her introduction to a unique individual on that first trip, an Academy cadet who had shown her around while her father went off on one of his interminable meetings with the Starfleet brass. An android who showed no annoyance or impatience with the hundreds of questions the young Kathryn had been full of.

She wondered what Commander Data was doing now ... in either universe?

She asked the computer where her counterpart's office was, deciding that if it were at all possible, she would try to lure Johnson into taking the walk with her. Perhaps she could even convince her to go diving in the quarry, offering her other self an opportunity for a bit of relaxation. Though Janeway fully realized that she was not the easiest person to coax into taking time off, she sensed that Johnson was in desperate need of some sort of break. If nothing else, the captain should know the proper argument to make the commodore agree.

The office was empty, and she decided to wait a little bit, making herself comfortable on the couch placed under the large windows of transparent aluminum which looked out onto the rugged, rusty rock formations of the red planet. The office was decorated much as she had done her ready room on Voyager, and Janeway smiled as she saw the small bust of da Vinci on the large desk which dominated the room. The scarred, wooden furniture was ancient, actually made of real oak, and her breath caught as she realized where she had seen it before. In Admiral Owen Paris's office on Earth years and years ago while a Starfleet cadet. She wondered if, in this reality, Tom and his father had ever made their peace, and how Owen had reacted to having a Klingon daughter-in-law. Hopefully a lot better than he and B'Elanna had interacted in her own.

Her eyes tracked the bluish spark on the horizon before she realized what she was doing, and she was struck by a strong sense of homesickness. Her mother was on Earth right now, she thought, while her sister, Phoebe was probably hard at work on her next showing. Both so very, very close, merely a few hours away by shuttle.

And an entire universe away, she reminded herself. This was not her Earth, not her mother and sister.

That did not ease the ache inside her, however. She rested her chin on her palm and stared at that bluish light longingly, wondering when she would ever see her own Earth again. The sound of the door opening drew her from her musing, and she stood up expecting her counterpart only to be surprised at seeing the man standing in the doorway. He was certainly not the commodore, but remained excruciatingly familiar, nonetheless.

Oh dear, she thought. He hasn't changed a bit.

"Kathryn?" he said, striding across the room, and before she could stop him, Mark Johnson swept her up in his arms and kissed her soundly.

And just for an instant ... because she had once loved this man deeply and totally, believing that she would spend the rest of her life with him ... she returned the kiss eagerly, her arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, losing herself in his embrace. Yet, even as she did, she knew it was wrong, that it was not an embrace that belonged to her, not a touch that she needed or wanted, not a kiss that filled her senses, and made her head spin, and poured complete and utter love into her like a draught from the purest spring of sweet water. It wasn't tender enough, it wasn't consuming enough, and it certainly wasn't as focused as Seven's most distracted kiss was.

She pushed him away gently, looking up into his familiar face with a warm fondness, but nothing more. Her heart belonged elsewhere, regardless of the fact this wasn't her Mark, anyway.

He smiled wanly down at her. "I'm glad I caught you in," he said. He frowned as he looked at her uniform. "When did Starfleet go back to these?"

"They didn't," she responded honestly. She hesitated, trying to figure out how to tell him who she was, or even if she should. After all, their presence on the base was supposed to be classified. Then, she realized that he wasn't even really paying attention to her, having moved away to stare out the windows, shoulders set stiffly beneath his tunic.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," he said in a dead tone. "I shouldn't have kissed you. That was deceptive."

Oh boy. Janeway was struck by a sudden foreboding, not for herself, but for her counterpart.

"Uh, listen, Mark, we need to discuss something," she said quietly.

"I know," he said, and his voice was strained, bleak as he searched for words. "Kathryn, it's over."

Janeway blinked. For a second, she didn't quite know what he was talking about.

"Mark, wait, you don't want to do this now," she offered desperately as enlightenment dawned.

He turned to her, face etched with despair. "We could wait until the term is up," he said sadly. "That's what I intended ... and we both knew it was only a matter of waiting it out. But something's happened, Kathryn. I didn't mean for it to, I never went looking for it, but it did. I'm so sorry."

Janeway searched frantically for a way out of this predicament. As a civilian, he could not know she wasn't the commodore, that there had been a breach in the realities. Starfleet would have to take him into custody, and for all she knew, he might even end up in the same suite that she, Seven and Dr. Hansen were already sharing. That would be all she needed to put a decided crimp into her love life, and the thought of Seven's possible reaction to Mark's presence actually chilled her. Yet, she wasn't the Kathryn he should be telling these things to. That dubious honor belonged to her counterpart.

She felt her frustration turn to annoyance. Honestly, was he completely obtuse? How could he not see that not only was she wearing an older type uniform, but she was also carrying the pips of a captain?

"Kathryn, have you been demoted?" he asked suddenly.

Okay, so he wasn't completely obtuse.

"Oh, god, you already know about Melissa, don't you?" he said with a touch of anger. "You've accepted a demotion so that you can go back out there, back to where you belong."

"Where I belong?" Janeway was frantically scrambling to catch up at this point.

"Out there," he said, waving his arm in the general direction of the windows, and the blackness of space beyond. There was bitterness in his face. "I never asked you to give that up. That was your choice. In fact, I wish you hadn't. Then maybe you wouldn't have felt like you were the martyr, that you had made all the sacrifices in this marriage."

Janeway blinked. She had no response to that, not only because she wasn't the one who had sacrificed, but also because she doubted that Johnson would have felt that way either. When Janeway made a decision, she stuck by it with no regrets and no backtracking. That's what being a captain was all about. Janeway didn't think her counterpart would be any different.

She held up her hands, seeking a little clarification into what was rapidly deteriorating into a total mass of confusion. "Mark, are you saying that your relationship with Melissa Bell ... whatever ... has progressed beyond friendship?"

He took a breath, staring at her. "She's pregnant," he said quietly. "There was a mixup with the bio-inhibiter ... but, I take full responsibility, Kathryn."

"Oh, good god," Janeway said with utter disgust. In this day and age, no one got pregnant unless they wanted to which meant this had been planned. Though, she admitted, possibly not by Mark, though he certainly seemed ready, and even eager, to accept responsibility for it. Good old Hobbes, upstanding, forthright, and apparently, couldn't keep his pants on long enough to allow the marriage term to run out.

"I know you didn't want children," he said. "At the time, I agreed, but now, I find I don't want anything else. I'm sorry Kathryn. I'm going to dissolve the contract, and marry Melissa. We need to raise our son together."

"Well, that's probably a good idea," Janeway responded lamely. She gazed at the man in front of her, and wondered what she should do now. She had a hard time seeing the man she had once loved in this person.

But you did love him once, her little voice reminded her. Sometimes things just happen ... in every reality. Unfortunately, I'm betting you're the one who has to break it to the commodore.

"I'm sorry, Kathryn," he said again, and walked out of the office.

And out of the commodore's life, Janeway thought. What an absolute, unmitigated mess.

Seven of Nine glanced at her counterpart out of the corner of her eye. Though Annika Hansen was fairly disorganized, there was no question she was brilliant. Some of these equations were beyond even Seven's experience to recognize, though once they were explained to her, she understood what they meant. Slowly her initial disdain for the woman was being replaced with an appreciation and respect. She wondered if this was what the Borg Collective had taken from her by their assimilation, the innate ability to instinctively grasp a scientific situation, to create a solution out of thin air from sheer inspiration alone, rather than from accessing data and extrapolating conclusions based on it.

She was very good at the latter, she knew. She could not remember ever experiencing the former.

"Hey, Seven?"

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow as she gave Annika her full attention.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"You may," Seven allowed.

"You know, you talk like a computer," Annika said, shaking her head. "Or a Vulcan. Where'd you pick that up?"

"The Borg appreciate precision," Seven responded. "As do I. Was that the question?"

"Uh, no," Annika said. She dipped her head, a faint blush coloring her pale features. "That sound I heard last night. Several times. Sort of a cross between a moan and ... well, a cry of astonishment. What exactly is she doing to you at that moment?"

Seven hesitated. In truth, Janeway generated that sound from her in a variety of ways, none of which could be explained in a very concise fashion.

"Loving me," she said finally, simply.

The look she received from Annika was one of pure envy.

"Have you no one?" Seven asked after a moment.

Annika looked away, toying with her stylus. "There have been a few people," she said slowly. "At school, then here, on the project." She shrugged. "No one that ever looked at me the same way Janeway looks at you."

Seven considered that. "Unfortunate," she allowed. To her surprise, she did feel a real empathy for her counterpart, truly sorry that Annika did not have the same special love supporting her, surrounding her, making her more than just intellect.

"Yeah," Annika said in quiet agreement.

They looked up as the doors slid open, and Janeway entered. Seven knew instantly that something was wrong, and she quickly went over to greet her. "What has happened?" she asked anxiously.

Janeway hesitated, looked at Annika who abruptly started, standing up uncertainly.

"Uh, I have to go..." the young woman said awkwardly. "Do something in the suite."

Seven stared at her. Was this how she looked when she attempted to be discrete? She couldn't possibly be that bad, could she?

Janeway waved it away. "It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm sure if this base is anything like a starship, it'll get around quick enough. I just have to make sure I get to the commodore first."

"What is it?" Seven queried.

"I just saw Mark Johnson," Janeway said.

Seven felt a sudden sinking sensation in her chest, though she knew that she should not. Janeway loved her. She did not love Mark any longer. Kathryn had told her this, but still....

"And?"

"He dumped me," Janeway said wryly. "Again."

"I don't understand," Annika said. "Isn't Mark Johnson the commodore's husband? Why would he dump you?"

"Because he thought I was his wife," Janeway clarified.

There was a pause as that sunk in.

"Oh boy," Annika breathed. "The bastard."

Seven blinked, startled at the venom in the tone, looking askance at her counterpart before focusing on her partner. "You must tell her," she insisted.

"I know, but I can't find her," Janeway said. "She's nowhere on the base."

"She's in the caves," Annika said suddenly.

Together, Seven and Janeway looked at her, and Annika squirmed slightly. "It's where she goes to be alone," she explained.

"How do you know this?" Janeway asked curiously.

Annika developed an intense interest in the deck. "I followed her once," she admitted. "I was curious. She never saw me and I didn't go in the water. Mostly because I hadn't brought any equipment along."

"God, no wonder you get along with B'Elanna," Janeway said, shooting an admonishing glance at Seven, though the Borg had no idea what she had done to deserve such a look. "You're all too inquisitive for your own good."

"Do you want me to take you there?" Annika asked eagerly. "I can show you where they are."

Janeway shook her head. "No, if it's the caves, then I know exactly where she is," the captain said thoughtfully. She smiled briefly. "Anyway, it'll be fun to do a little diving again."

A qualm shot through Seven as she remembered which caves they were talking about, the ones Kathryn had once told her about. "This is dangerous," she said worriedly.

"I'll be fine," Janeway assured her, putting a hand on Seven's forearm. "You don't want to deny me the chance to go diving in the caves again, do you?"

She gave her the 'look', the soft expression that Janeway called her 'puppy dog' gaze, with the velvet blue eyes and the gentle tremor to her lip. The one Seven could not resist in the slightest, though she was fairly disgruntled that Janeway would pull it on her now. Nor could she figure out why she would in front of another person. It was very unlike the captain.

"You will be careful," Seven said, a statement, not a question.

"I promise," Janeway said with that half-grin on her face, then to Seven's considerable surprise, the captain reached up and cupped her face in her palms, drawing her face down for a long kiss. "I'll be back this evening," she murmured against her lips.

Shaken by the intensity of the kiss, and the sheer unexpectedness of it, Seven could only watch as Janeway disappeared out the door. She frowned briefly, then looked at Annika who was looking at her with an envious expression.

"Yeow," the young woman said. "Maybe I've been looking at Johnson all wrong, after all."

Seven suddenly realized what her partner was up to.

Janeway pulled herself from the crystal clear water, breathing heavily in the still air of the cavern. She was out of shape, she decided as she slipped off her fins, and shrugged out of the breathing apparatus. Despite the planet's lesser gravity, it had been almost a decade since she had been diving, and muscles not otherwise utilized were already sending up a protest to her brain at abruptly being put in service again. Yet, she couldn't deny that it had been an exhilarating experience to once again penetrate the submerged tunnels and caverns of the Mars interior, retracing the familiar path that led to this cavern where she had once discovered a fossil, resulting in her name being recorded in the history archives. She wondered if she would ever do anything else as scientifically significant as that single discovery when she was barely out of her teens.

She clicked off her wrist light, and gazed around in the sudden blackness that descended upon her with all the weight of the stone pressing over her. There, she noted. A spark of flickering firelight. Leaving her equipment near the side of the pool, she walked toward it.

Johnson sat next to the flame, regarding her approach without expression, as if having expected her. She was dressed in her diving outfit, black with bright yellow bands down the sides, and her hair was loose, hanging down over her shoulders in a glorious auburn tangle.

"I suppose you know this place as well as I do," she said calmly as Janeway hesitated uncertainly, just inside the glowing circle of golden light.

"I needed to speak with you," Janeway said delicately. "May I sit down?"

A faint smile ghosted over Johnson's face. "I certainly can't begrudge you," she said. "It must be some time since you've had the opportunity to be here."

"More years than I care to think about," Janeway agreed, sitting down on the soft Martian sand, the rusty granules providing a comfortable cushion for her. "However, I'm here for another reason. I was told that this is a place you come to when you want to be alone, and honestly, I wouldn't have disturbed you if it weren't important."

Johnson looked vaguely surprised. "I didn't think anyone knew about this place," she said.

Janeway let that one pass. For now. "I went to your office, and while I was waiting for you, I had a visitor," she said, getting down to business.

Something flickered in her counterpart's face, too quickly for Kathryn to identify it. "Indeed," Johnson said. "Dare I guess?"

"It was Mark," Janeway said. She hesitated, tried to figure out a gentle way to say it. "He thought I was you. Apparently, Melissa Bell...er, Bellknocker ... is pregnant."

The silence was total, the only sound that of the flames snapping as they consumed the lichens that fed them. The fungus grew in profusion about the caverns, this world's version of organic fuel, and it gave off the fragrance of sandalwood as it burned. Janeway was very aware of the spicy aroma as she regarded her other, thinking she probably could have found a way to break it a little easier. Yet, if it had been her, she would have preferred the news flat out, giving her a chance to deal with it and move on.

"I see," Johnson said finally, and it was clear that she did.

"I'm sorry," Janeway said lamely, wishing she knew what to do now. Should she leave her counterpart alone? Or should she stay, offer what comfort she could. She couldn't remember how it felt to be in this position. She was the one who had dumped Cheb Packer, and Justin Tighe had died. When she had received the letter from her Mark Johnson, he had already been a figure of her past, distanced by time and space. It had hurt, but not as it would, had the two situations been more similar, had the loss been more immediate.

Johnson was looking away, chin on her palm, moisture glinting in her eyes. "I guess that makes it final, doesn't it?" she asked idly.

Janeway nodded. That was what hurt, she remembered. The finality of it, the knowledge that she would no longer have him in her life, no longer be a part of his. "He's dissolving the term agreement," she added softly.

Johnson nodded. "I won't fight it," she said. "I guess I knew it was coming."

She covered her face with her hand, and a sob shook her. Janeway did not think, she simply crossed the space between them instantly, wrapping the other up in her arms, embracing her counterpart tightly as she wept. She thought that this should feel a little odder, that this in fact, was herself she was holding, but it did not. Rather, she was aware that this entity was separate and distinct from herself, a different person altogether. A person who was in pain and needed help, someone that Janeway cared enough about to want to make it better somehow, even as she knew she couldn't.

She was struck by the sense that only her presence was tolerable at this time. No one else could have offered any comfort to her intensely private other self, no one else could have granted a shoulder to accept that helpless weeping. For that reason alone, she was very glad that she had somehow been brought here to this universe.

"I look terrible when I cry," Johnson said irrelevantly after awhile.

"I know," Janeway replied dryly.

Johnson was startled into a brief bark of laughter. She pulled away from the captain's comforting embrace, and wiped at her face with her sleeve. "God, do you know how long it's been since I laughed?"

Janeway shrugged, keeping a hand resting lightly on the other's shoulder. "Probably just as long as it's been since you've cried?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

Johnson took a breath. "It was never right," she said wistfully. "I shouldn't have married him. I was just trying to recapture what I had before Voyager got lost. Maybe he was, as well."

Janeway stared unseeingly into the dark beyond the fire's light. "I know I am not the same person now that I was then," she offered slowly. "What happened in the Delta Quadrant made me understand that command was what I was meant to do. It's something I've only truly realized in the last year." She paused. "My destiny is to command starships. I am fortunate that I have someone who is willing to stay with me while I pursue that."

"I guess I didn't pay attention to what I learned out there," Johnson said. "Or that I missed out on the really important lessons." She shook her head. "I hate what I've become."

"Then change it," Janeway said simply.

Johnson smiled crookedly. "Guess there's no reason not to, now," she agreed. She tossed a few more chunks of Martian fungus into the fire, then glanced sideways at Janeway. "Why Seven?"

Janeway supposed that was fair. She had just seen her other self at her most vulnerable. She owed Johnson something in exchange, and if that meant speaking of her most intimate feelings for her partner, then it was the least she could do.

"She lets me be who I need to be," Janeway said finally, after considering her answer carefully. "In fact, she demands it. She challenged me from the first moment we met, disregarded the rank, and made me react as myself no matter how much I tried to react as a captain. She questioned me, argued with me, forced me to take another look at things that I thought I understood. When I received the letter from Mark, I realized I had been using him as an excuse not to ... get involved with anyone else, not to look at other possibilities. Thank god Seven made herself one."

"She pursued you?" Johnson asked curiously.

"Let's just say I bumbled around the subject until she had to take matters into her own hands," Janeway said with a wry grin, remembering the night she had returned to her quarters to find Seven in her bed, awaiting  her arrival with the same concentration and focus that she brought to everything else. "We've had a few bumps, but we always seem to make it back to each other in one piece. I believe in her in a way that I have never believed in anyone else."

"I envy you," Johnson said simply, honestly.

"Don't," Janeway said. "You too, have possibilities ... if only you'd look for them."

Johnson frowned briefly. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Janeway stifled a smile. There was a reason Annika Hansen made a point to know where Johnson went to be alone, and the captain believed there was far too much antagonism between the two to spring from mere incompatibility. Possibly frustrated attraction? In any event, both were now free to see where things led. Janeway had discovered that since falling in love with Seven, she was a bit of a matchmaker, wanting others to experience the same happiness she did. Whether there was a match to be made here was uncertain, but she could try.

"Sometimes there's an opportunity right in front of you," she said enigmatically. "One that's been overlooked when the rest of your life seems so complicated."

Johnson held up a hand. "I just had one relationship fall apart, I don't even want to think about another," she said sadly.

Janeway shrugged. "Just don't lose the chance because you think it shouldn't be," she advised. "The fact is, I think your relationship with Mark was over long ago, this just made you both face that. Now you're free to look elsewhere. Don't waste it."

Johnson just stared at her and Janeway realized she was pressing a bit hard. She smiled and squeezed the shoulder beneath the diving outfit. "I think I'll look around a little," she said. "Who knows when I'll get the chance to be here again."

She stood up and flicked on her wrist lamp, leaving the fire behind. She did not have to look back to realize she had left both confusion and consternation in her wake.

Lt. Harry Kim stumbled a bit as he stepped forward, and he looked back to see the rip in the fabric of dimensional space mend itself up behind him. He didn't know what universe he was in, but he knew that wherever it was, he wouldn't be leaving for at least another two days. That was how long it would take for the device he and B'Elanna had built to recharge from the anomaly. Taking a breath, he looked around uncertainly, raising his arm to allow his wrist beam to splash light about his general vicinity.

It was just like the lab he had so recently been in, except this one was not clean and sparkling, nor did it have the huge piece of machinery they had constructed to open the portal. The deck was covered with debris, and dust liberally coated the consoles and tables that remained. It looked as if it had been abandoned long ago, and he frowned as he studied his surroundings. If he wasn't mistaken, this was indeed Voyager, but it was clear that there were no life signs in his immediate area. He raised his tricorder, turning in a slow circle. The ship was reading minimum energy, and no active life support. Could the captain and Seven have survived this long?

Not here, he determined after checking his readings. There was only enough atmosphere for a few hours, and the fact that it still remained meant that the two women had probably left before it had been used up. Where that was exactly remained to be seen. He decided to check out the bridge, figuring correctly that it would be where the captain would have headed upon her own arrival.

Had she been able, he thought dismally. It was entirely possible that the two women had died and their bodies were moldering in the turbolift. He didn't want to consider that possibility at all.

The thin whine of transporters startled him, and he whirled, surprised to see the forms of several beings in Starfleet environmental suits materialize around him. He stared at them, trying to see through the glass front of the helmets, unable to pierce the shadows because of the way the light reflected.

"For crying out loud," one said, in utter disgust, an unfamiliar male voice. No one Harry recognized. "What the hell is this, Starfleet Central? How many of you are going to show up, anyway?"

Harry felt a grin cross his face as the import of that sunk in. He wasn't the first. "Are you telling me that there have been others?" he asked. "Was it two women, one in a captain's uniform, the other...."

"Built like a wet dream?" one of the others blurted.

Harry relaxed. That was Seven all right. "Where are they?"

"Not far, Mister," the first one said. He gestured with his rifle, and only then did Harry realize they were flanking him as if he were a threat of some sort. "Come on. Commodore Johnson can deal with you, too."

Harry frowned as he was taken into custody, relieved of his equipment, and transported off the ship. When they had first opened the portal to the other universe, it had been to glimpse the dirty lab which mirrored their own. B'Elanna had offered the theory that it was Voyager, but perhaps abandoned in order to colonize a planet or transfer to another vessel. Then the portal had started to collapse, and before anyone else could react, Harry had scooped up a wrist beam, a phaser and a tricorder, leaping through the opening as he heard the protesting howls of both B'Elanna and Chakotay ringing in his ears.

Harry knew it was completely uncharacteristic of him. He had always followed the rules, done what he was supposed to do, accepted whatever happened to him. In truth, however, he had been chafing under that self-imposed restriction for some time. He had watched others in the crew boldly seize opportunities to rule the day and emerge triumphant. He knew, without a doubt that he had been offered chances to change his life, opportunities to make a difference somehow, and had been too timid, too hesitant about accepting the offer, losing out in the end.

He was sure that was why Seven was with the captain now, instead of him. If he had been a little more assertive in the beginning, a little less afraid of what might happen, perhaps he would have been the one the Borg had been attracted to, would have loved. Perhaps he would be more than just good old Harry Kim, dependable operations officer who never ever did anything glorious or outrageous. In that instant, seeing the portal start to collapse, it had come to him in a flash of clarity what he had to do.

No more staid, safe Harry Kim. He was going to be an adventurer, a swashbuckler, more like Tom or Chakotay or even the captain herself. The ones who always got the girls and commanded admiration just by walking into a room.

He wished it were warmer.

He had developed a chill on the ship devoid of life support systems, and the heat of the base which materialized around him hit like a blast furnace. He frowned as he looked around at the unmistakable Federation architecture. He had assumed when he saw the other Voyager that it had also been in the Delta Quadrant. Now he was not so sure. He did not recognize any of the people who came to take him from the suited team on the transporter pad. The uniforms were different from his own, black with blue-grey shoulders, the sweaters underneath displaying the colors of the various sections.

They marched him to an office deep in the complex which was filled with strangers, primarily Human though he had seen Vulcans, Bolians, and a few other species. Apparently, he was now back in the Alpha Quadrant, and he tried to resist the sense of exhilaration.  After all, this was not his universe, though of course, the last one wasn't exactly his universe either. He was still startled however, when a glimpse outside a few display windows in one corridor revealed a rusty surface which he quickly identified as Mars.

Confused, he kept his mouth shut, waiting to see where he was to be taken. When they deposited him into a lavishly appointed office, and the familiar figure stood up behind the large desk, he felt his face break out into a beaming grin.

"Captain," he said.

"Harry Kim," she responded. "My god, it's really you."

To his surprise, she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Awkwardly, he returned the hug, patting her back clumsily. He had hoped she would be glad rather than angry to see him but he certainly hadn't imagined this. She grasped his arms when the hug ended, raking him up and down with the familiar look that always made him feel the way he had when he first stood in her ready room those years ago, and was told that 'Sir' was unacceptable and 'Captain' would be expected.

Except, this wasn't the captain.

Belatedly, he realized she was dressed in the same uniform as the others had been, and the insignia on her collar ... his eyes widened and he straightened, painfully aware of his uniform which was stained and rumpled from hours of working with B'Elanna on the trans-dimensional device.

"Commodore," he amended crisply.

So this was the 'Johnson' his captors had been talking about. Lt. Kim was somewhat slow compared to the innate brilliance of B'Elanna or Seven, but he was not stupid. This must be the captain's counterpart. He wondered why the name was different.

"Lieutenant, is it?" she said softly, an oddly gentle expression in her face. "I should have granted my Harry that respect."

"I guess you know why I'm here," he offered.

"Oh yes," she said, beaming at him. She couldn't seem to get enough of looking at him, and he was disconcerted by it. He hadn't realized that Janeway was so fond of him. Or maybe it was only in this universe. "You're here to retrieve your captain and Seven of Nine. You discovered a way through from your universe."

He nodded. No need to go into details. "The portal was opened briefly," he said. "It will be open again in two days. We'll need to be there in the engineering lab on Voyager when it does because it won't stay open long. The power drain is tremendous."

At least, he hoped it would be opened. He could not believe that B'Elanna would be unable to find a way to recharge the device and hold the portal open. As a matter of fact, knowing her as he did, she'd probably improve it between now and then, and increase the time the portal could remain open.

The commodore nodded briskly. "I suppose I should take you to the others and let them know they don't have to work so hard at finding a way back any longer."

He glanced at her sideways as she led him back out into the complex. He noted that her hair was done up, and he wondered how he could have missed it when he first walked into the office. The walk, however, and the manner, were exactly the same, barely contained power and energy that kept everyone around her on their toes.

"So," he said jovially. "You're a commodore. What am I, now? At least, a lieutenant commander, right?"

She didn't answer right away, and he looked at her, a sinking feeling in his chest as he saw the shadow cross her face. "Or do I want to know?" he added weakly.

"Harry Kim was a fine officer," she said softly. "Who gave his life in the service of his vessel."

"Oh," he mumbled. "Sorry, I asked."

He wondered if he could feel any more stupid than he did at that moment. Then, he walked into the lab and saw the two women standing by the console. On the right was his fantasy, the woman who haunted his dreams, remote, aloof, and completely out of reach now that she was with the captain. On the left....

Harry felt his tongue cleave to the roof of his mouth, the blood thundering in his ears like an unchecked warp core.

"Harry Kim," Seven of Nine said, with decided pleasure as she looked at him. "Obviously you have found a way to this dimension."

"Nuhh," he answered brilliantly, not even looking at his crewmate.  Instead, he found himself staring helplessly at the other woman, the tall blonde who looked back with the open friendliness in her features, through warm, clear eyes and a quizzical smile.

Seven, yes, but as she could have been. Annika Hansen. Not a Borg, not the figure of mystery and unapproachable coolness, but a woman not much older than he, real and warm, and standing only a few feet away from him.

"Seven's told me about you, and the rest of Voyager's crew," she was saying, reaching out to shake his hand, pumping it up and down. It lay in her grasp like a fish, limp and unresponsive. She glanced worriedly at Seven. "Is he all right?"

Oh god, please don't say anything, Seven, he begged silently as he tried to get his mind and his mouth to work. Please don't dissect me with that Borg logic, and lay out all my failings in front of this woman with concise and unfailing analytical precision. Don't blow my chance before I even get started. Let me do that myself if that's how it has to be.

He never knew if Seven heard his silent plea. All he knew was that Seven regarded him with a slight tilt to her head, and a faint smile.

"Perhaps there was a lingering after effect to his entering this dimension," the Borg offered. "We also experienced a certain disorientation when we arrived. I believe it was a courageous thing on your part, Lt. Kim, to attempt to rescue us without knowing what you could face in this dimension."

Considerably stupid as well, but to Harry's eternal gratitude, she didn't add that part.  He was both amazed and considerably gratified to hear the Borg singing his praises, though he wasn't entirely sure why.

"Of course," Annika said, suddenly concerned. She grabbed a chair from nearby, and scooted it under him. "Good god, man, have a seat."

Bemused, he did, sinking into it with a glance at Seven who looked vaguely amused.

"Are you the only one who came through?" the Borg asked. More in hopes of getting him speaking intelligently than anything else, he suspected. Certainly she could assume that he was alone since there was no one with him from Voyager.

"Yes," he said, taking the glass of water that Annika handed to him, and smiling at her. "Thank you," he said, proud that he was now sounding somewhat more coherent.

"No problem," the fully Human woman said. "How did you manage to get over here?" She frowned suddenly. "It wasn't an accident, was it? Like Seven's?"

Feeling more comfortable, he shrugged with what he hoped was careless competence. "No, I intended to come here, though it wasn't easy," he admitted. "I had to determine the exact energy resonance of the anomaly wave which had originally struck the ship. Then I had to construct a device that would replicate it, thereby opening a hole to this Voyager, and hopefully the correct universe."

"Lt. Kim is quite intelligent when it comes to quantum physics," Seven offered dryly, no doubt noting the 'I' as opposed to the 'we' when he was explaining. "Our chief engineer has often said that she wouldn't know what to do without him."

That was so blatantly a falsehood that he could only stare at her ... and blush furiously, aware that she realized that, of course, B'Elanna had built the actual device. Theory was his forte, Torres was the one who knew how to make theories become functioning reality.  In fact, when he and Seven had constructed the astrometrics lab, he had been responsible for the concept, the theoretical application.  The Borg had done most of the actual construction.  He didn't think most people knew that.  He wasn't bad with a spanner necessarily, just not as good as others.

"How do you know this is the correct universe?" the commodore asked idly.

He froze, considering that. "I guess I don't," he admitted. He looked at her. "Some things you have to take on faith."

She nodded. "Just so," she said, and there was approval in her voice.

He frowned. "The captain?"

"Captain Janeway is on her way," Commodore Johnson said. "I contacted her and told her she had a visitor. She was over in the library, catching up on some research. I didn't tell her who it was. I wanted to surprise her."

Harry gulped. Well, he had no doubt that she would be surprised. Especially when he told her how he had gotten here ... and that it hadn't exactly been authorized by Chakotay.

Captain Kathryn Janeway eyed her operation's officer with a combination of disbelief and outrage. "You're telling me you had no authorization for what you did," she said.

"No, Captain," Harry Kim said, staring straight ahead, at full attention.

She circled him like a predator, raking him up and down with a look that had set far better people than him to stammering and flushing. She was pleased to see that he did not. His shoulders were square, his gaze level, his jaw set firm.

"You realize this is a violation of protocol that could be considered a court martial offense," she said, her voice at its lowest register.

"Yes, Captain, I do," he said crisply.

She paused in front of him, staring into his face, head tilted back a little. "Do you have anything to say in your own defense?" she asked.

"Only that I felt it was the right thing for me to do, Captain," he said. He paused. "And that I would do exactly the same thing again," he added.

She frowned. "I see," she said. "You have no regrets?"

"No, ma'am," he said. His back seemed to stiffen though she could not see how he managed to get it any straighter. "I fully understand the seriousness of my decision, and I accept full responsibility for my actions."

She nodded. "Very well," she said. "I will be placing a reprimand in your file when we return for disobeying protocol and failing to receive proper authorization prior to acting."

"Yes ma'am," Harry Kim said. He managed not to flinch.

"As well as a commendation for your bravery and initiative," she added.

It was a moment before that sank in and his eyes glowed. "Yes, CAPTAIN," he said.

"Dismissed," she concluded formally.

She held back the smile until he had turned and left the suite, then allowed it to spread over her face. Perhaps there was hope for young Mr. Kim yet. He was finally growing into the officer she always knew he could be, and the fact that he was now at the level where he was prepared to take the initiative, as well as the courage to accept the consequences of his actions, was very heartening to her. She crossed her arms over her chest and regarded the deck thoughtfully, remembering the young ensign fresh out of the Academy, his uncertainty and his desire to fit in, his need to discover his niche within Voyager's crew.

She supposed she could have mentioned that Chakotay may have a few things to say to him once he got back, but she was sure he knew that, and was prepared to handle it. She looked up as the door slid open, and Seven of Nine entered the suite.

The Borg raised an eyebrow at her partner. "You did not punish him?" she said.

"What makes you say that?" Janeway asked curiously.

"He was too ... cheerful, when he came into the lab," Seven explained. "Not as he would have been had you punished him."

"Actually, I will be placing a reprimand in his permanent record, as well as a commendation," Janeway replied mildly.

"Indeed," Seven said, frowning. "Is that not a contradiction?"

Janeway shook her head. "Not really," she said with a smile. "It's possible to be rewarded and punished for the same actions."

"I see," Seven said in the tone that indicated she didn't at all but wasn't really interested enough to pursue it. "Do I have a record?"

Janeway smiled at the phrase which tended to have a different meaning when asked in that tone. "You certainly should," she said in a faintly teasing tone. "But you're not in Starfleet. However, if you were, your record would have gotten you busted back to ensign a hundred times over."

Seven did not look chastised in the slightest. "What does your record look like?" she countered innocently.

"I don't even want to think about it," Janeway said, grinning wryly. She wondered if Starfleet had promoted her counterpart simply because they didn't know what else to do with her, and sticking her in a desk job close to Earth was the best solution they could come up with. She also wondered if that's what she had to expect when she finally returned to Earth, or if her brass would go as easy on her.

Seven took a few steps closer until she was a mere breath away,  the warmth of her body radiating to surround Janeway with a unmistakable feeling of love, yet the Borg did not touch her. Janeway took the initiative, knowing that recent events had Seven confused by how much affection she could show and when. The captain wrapped her arms around the slender waist and rested her chin on the narrow shoulder, immediately embraced in return.

"We will be returning soon," Seven assured her, misunderstanding her hug.

"I know," Janeway said and smiled, snuggling deeper into the woman's arms, kissing the warm line of neck. "I'm just glad you were here with me."

"I am, as well," Seven said. She tightened her hold a little. "Do you wish to go into the bedroom?"

Janeway laughed. "Not right now, sweetheart," she said, a bit wistfully. "There's no way of knowing when the others will return. Even if I managed to get by that first night with Dr. Hansen in the room next to us, there's no way I'm going to be comfortable with the idea of Harry Kim possibly walking in and hearing us."

"Unfortunate," Seven murmured, nuzzling the auburn hair as she allowed her hands to roam a little. "However, we shall be in our own, soundproofed quarters soon enough."

"I'm counting on that," Janeway responded, raising her face to be kissed which Seven obligingly did with great thoroughness.

"Don't you two ever stop?" a throaty voice offered several minutes later.

"Why would we want to?" Seven asked in honest confusion as she released Janeway, and looked at Commodore Johnson who had entered the suite unannounced.

The commodore made a face, a mix of amusement and rueful agreement. "Good point," she said.

Janeway took a breath, composing herself, then looked directly at her counterpart. "You wanted to see us?" she asked dryly. She refused to be embarrassed at being caught sharing affection with her partner.

Johnson eyed her tolerantly as she sank gracefully onto the couch, smiling at her. "I just wanted to let you know that Voyager ... my Voyager ... has had a life support unit placed on deck 12, and that Starfleet Command has instructed me to monitor every second of your return, for future study."

"Is that wise?" Janeway asked, taking a seat on the chair. She was aware of Seven perching herself on the armrest next to her, laying an arm along the back and around the captain's shoulders. She did not motion for her partner to retreat, rather enjoying her closeness.

"We like to have as much knowledge as possible about everything," Johnson said, and for a second, there was a bit of steel in her tone. It occurred to Janeway that her counterpart had become a great deal more ingrained with Starfleet rules and regulations than she had. Or was that Seven's influence working on her again? "In the meantime, there is the question of the nanoprobes," she added with little delicacy.

Janeway felt a flicker of anger. "You didn't help us get back to our own universe," she said coolly. "That was my own crew's accomplishment."

To her surprise, she felt Seven's hand close on her shoulder and squeeze admonishingly.

"However, in the interest of keeping the Federations safe," Janeway added smoothly, if a touch belatedly. "I have created the schematics for creating the nanoprobes. They're in the computer base under our old Academy code."

"I have also provided a sampling of my own nanoprobes to Dr. Hansen," Seven offered evenly.  "So that a step shall be saved in the development."

"Thank you," Johnson said, and she truly did look grateful. Janeway felt a moment of shame at her prickliness.

The captain of Voyager leaned back in her chair, shifting slightly under the comforting arm of her lover.  By this time tomorrow, they would be back in their own universe.

Where they belonged.

Voyager's engineering lab was considerably cleaner than when Harry had been there last, he noticed, not to mention a good deal warmer. A life support unit had been installed on this deck, and the Starfleet of this universe had filled it with equipment and monitoring devices in preparation of their return. Dr. Hansen, although a civilian, had been invited to witness the entire exchange, and the tall blonde was darting here and there about the room in constant scientific excitement.

He tried not to stare at the good doctor, knowing he would only display a hangdog look if he did. Of course, it wasn't as if he had expected to stay here with her, or have her come with him after only a day or two of interaction, but was still deflating when she had finally noticed his interest was more than mere curiosity, and let him know she wasn't interested. Her reaction, though considerably gentler and more graceful than Seven's had been, had been profoundly depressing, especially when he finally figured out who Annika really had her eye on, though she had refused to name names.

Like he had to work hard to figure that out, he thought sourly. He could see how Hansen looked at the commodore when she thought no one was looking. Or for that matter, how Johnson looked at her in return, though the older woman's expression was considerably more uncertain, and confused.

He wondered if in some universe, Harry Kim and Seven of Nine actually managed to come to an understanding. And why he couldn't be in that one, right now.

"Commodore, our instruments are detecting a breach in the inter-dimensional continuum," one of the Starfleet technicians offered suddenly.

"Looks like this is it," Captain Janeway said, suddenly appearing at his shoulder, along with Seven.

"Looks like," he agreed and tensed, though he wasn't sure why.

His communicator suddenly chirped, as did the captain's.

"Voyager to Captain Janeway," came Chakotay's unmistakable tone through the scratchy static and distortion.

"Janeway here," the captain responded instantly. "I'm here with Seven and Lt. Kim. We're in position for transfer in the engineering lab of this universe's Voyager."

"Good," Chakotay said quickly. "Because we wouldn't have gotten another shot at opening this thing up. The anomaly is dissipating, and B'Elanna can keep the portal open for only ten seconds. We will open to full intensity in five seconds."

"Understood," Janeway said.

So quickly, Harry thought, disappointed that B'Elanna had not managed to increase the time the portal remained stable. But then again, if the anomaly was dissipating, he should count his lucky stars that they even had the opportunity. He was suddenly seized in a farewell hug by both the commodore, and again, by Dr. Hansen, then the portal was opening and he had barely enough time to see Commodore Johnson thrust something into Seven's arms before the trio was pushed through the opening, a sound like the roar of air escaping surrounding them and filling their ears. Before he had gathered himself, the sound suddenly ceased, and he was stumbling across Voyager's lab into the arms of Chakotay who straightened him abruptly before turning away.

Harry wondered briefly how mad the first officer was as he turned around to see the lab full of people. B'Elanna was there, along with Tom and Tuvok. The Doctor and Sek were running tricorders over the three returning crewmembers, and everyone seemed to be talking at once, asking questions, receiving answered, being offered reassurances as to their continued health, wlong with what had happened on the 'other side' whihc included technical descriptions of what needed to be done. Neelix, meanwhile, was busily thumping people on the back, and welcoming them home.

The portal had disappeared as if it had never been, and Harry felt a real pang go through him, knowing that he would never see either Commodore Johnson or Annika Hansen again. They were not his captain or crewmate, of course, but they were individuals in their own right, people he had grown to like in the very short time he knew them, and he mourned their loss. Then he found himself gazing at Seven who was standing apart from the rest, holding something in her arms, and looking thoroughly apprehensive. The rest of the crowd seemed to notice her at the same time, and everything abruptly went quiet as they all stared at her.

"What," she said in a faintly frightened voice, "Is this?"

She looked as if she didn't know whether to grip it tighter or fling it away from her as far as it would go.

"Where did you get that, Seven?" Janeway asked in an odd voice, a strange mix of dismay and, Harry would swear, astonished joy.

"Commodore Johnson gave it to me," Seven said, holding it out in front of her at arm's length, dangling it from both hands. "Just before we came through. She said it was for you but if she had given it to you, you would not have taken it."

Janeway was obviously baffled. "Well, she was correct there," she said.

"Take it, please," Seven insisted, rather desperately. There was a wet spot spreading damply over the front of her outfit even as Harry watched.

Janeway gently took it away from her and cradled it in her arms, staring down at it with a strange expression. "There's no need to be upset, Seven," she said soothingly. "I believe the commodore thought I might need this out here in the Delta Quadrant."

A whimper came out of the red bundle which squirmed in the captain's arms, reaching up to nose the charmed features, as everyone gaped at the sight of their captain's face being licked frantically by the tiny pink tongue of an Irish Setter puppy.

"What exactly are we supposed to do with it?" Seven asked distastefully as she regarded the tiny form curled up on her partner's lap. The captain was sitting on the sofa while Seven stood before her, hands linked behind her back, a frown of immense disapproval on her face.

"Love it," Janeway replied as she stroked the small head. It sighed blissfully and closed its eyes, a content little bundle. "It's a puppy, Seven."

This was the first time Seven had seen it remain still since they had returned to their quarters, and she was appalled at the concept that it was now expected to live with them. "What of the bodily functions it insists on displaying?" she asked icily. Her nose wrinkled as she considered the damp spots scattered at various sites around their otherwise immaculate quarters.

"He can be house broken," Janeway responded reasonably. She looked up at Seven and the Borg was somewhat dismayed to see that the captain's eyes were shining their warmest blue. "I suspect it's one of Molly Malone's puppies. The commodore mentioned she had just littered again."

"Who?"

"That's the dog I had when I was lost in the Delta Quadrant," the captain said. "She had been pregnant, and Mark had to find homes for all the puppies. I guess in her universe, the commodore allowed her to be bred again."

"Unwise," Seven noted. "Particularly if she has to ship the offspring to the Delta Quadrant to be rid of them."

Janeway eyed her. "I suspect you're not taking this gift in the spirit it was intended, Seven," she said primly.

"One intended to inconvenience and annoy me?" Seven queried.

"No, Seven," Janeway responded in an admonishing tone. "There's nothing better than a dog. They love you unconditionally."

"You already have that," Seven pointed out, vaguely offended. "With me."

Janeway grinned at her. "Yes, but unlike you, this little one will obey me," she said.

"Then by all means, please instruct it to stop urinating all over the deck," Seven told her acidly.

"What I meant is that he will obey me once he's properly trained," Janeway amended.

"When shall you have time to do this in your capacity as captain?" Seven offered. "Or did you expect me to carry out this duty?"

Janeway considered her with her softest expression. "He will look to both of us as his mistresses," Janeway offered gently. "It's important that we both train him."

"I see," Seven said without enthusiasm. She studied her partner, observing how Janeway was interacting with the small animal on her lap. It was clear that the captain was already completely captivated by the puppy, and that anything negative Seven offered further would not be appreciated. This, apparently, was not a conflict she could win. "I will research the proper methods of training a dog," she said finally, in resignation.

Janeway beamed. "Thank you, darling," she said, then looked around. "While you do that, I'll clean up the mess," she added as a sort of peace offering.

Seven sighed and went over to the console, querying the data base about everything it had on dogs, Irish Setters in particular, and the best methods for training them. She was not pleased at what she learned. It all sounded like a great deal of effort for little return, yet Kathryn clearly considered it a worthwhile activity.

"Sweetheart," Janeway offered after awhile. "I'm going to bed."

"I will be along shortly," Seven said absently, not looking up.

She had much to think about when she finally shut down her board and went over to the replicator. She noted that the damp patches on the rug no longer reeked of acidic chemicals, and instead had been sponged with a neutralizing cleaner. It was the absolute least Janeway could do, she thought grumpily as she replicated several sheets of specially designed unifying plexi-sheets. She assembled them into a small structure, and created a tiny run for the animal, placing it in an obscure corner of the room where it would not be in the way. She covered the carpeted area under the doghouse and run with an absorbent spongy material that hopefully would also eliminate odors. Then she went into the bedroom.

"No," she said firmly, seeing the tiny red form napping happily on Kathryn's chest as the captain stretched out in bed, perusing a padd. "Absolutely not."

"But Seven, darling," Janeway offered. "He'll be lonely."

"No," Seven insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "He is not sleeping in the bed."

"He doesn't take up much room," Janeway said, offering her most tender look, all fluttery eyes and gentle pleading.

Seven was completely unmoved.

"Not at the moment," she said pointedly. "However, it shall grow into an animal approximately a meter long, a half meter high and weigh about 20 kilograms." She paused and fixed Janeway with her most determined look. "I have no intention of learning how to share sleeping space with a large, hairy animal."

Janeway raised the tiny muzzle with a forefinger. "How can you resist this face," she asked in a cooing voice.

"Easily," Seven responded flatly. She crossed her arms over her chest. "Either you sleep with it, or with me. You must choose."

Janeway looked stubborn. "Suppose I choose the dog," she said sulkily.

"I shall move out immediately," Seven said without inflection, turning to leave.

"All right," Janeway said grumpily. She knew Seven couldn't be bluffed. Seven wondered why she kept trying. "The puppy gets his own bed."

"I have constructed a pen for it in the living area," Seven said, not unkindly. "It is exactly to the specifications set down by the Dog Lover's Guide."

Janeway offered her a grudging smile. "That was nice of you, Seven," she said. She had the grace to look abashed. "With him not being house broken yet, that's probably the best solution anyway."

While Seven went into the ensuite to prepare for the night, Janeway took the puppy out to the living area. She was still not back by the time Seven had slipped into bed and as the moments continued to pass, the Borg grew progressively more irritated. When Janeway finally did return to the bedroom, pitiful howls followed in her wake.

"He'll quiet down after awhile," the captain said reassuringly to her partner.

Seven looked disbelieving.

An hour later, her disbelief had proven to be warranted, and outraged annoyance had replaced it. The howling had not ceased and in fact, had actually increased in intensity. Seven could barely hear herself think, and the sight of her partner huddled in the bed beside her, a peaceful smile on her face as she slept did not make the younger woman feel any more benevolent toward the situation.

"This is unacceptable," she exclaimed, startling Janeway awake as the Borg leapt to her feet and stormed into the living area.

A few moments later there was silence, and she returned to the bedroom to discover Janeway sitting up in bed, eyes wide, looking at her apprehensively.

"What did you do?" Janeway asked in the sort of tone that indicated she wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

"I replicated an artificial companion," Seven said as she crawled back into bed. "It is a puppy sized oval stuffed with a warming material, and includes a tiny transceiver that gives off the sound and pulse of an adult dog's heartbeat. The animal seemed to find it acceptable."

"Oh," Janeway said, regarding her oddly.

Seven shot her a sharp look. "What did you think I would do?" she asked.

Janeway hesitated, then looked embarrassed. "Terminating it would be the most efficient manner in which to deal with this," she said.

Seven rolled over, her back turned pointedly to her partner. "Sometimes I do not think you understand me at all," she told the captain icily.

Janeway must have realized from the tone that Seven was honestly stung by her suspicions, and she immediately wrapped her arms around the larger woman. "I'm sorry, darling," she said in her most apologetic tone. "Really I am. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Nonetheless," Seven said coldly. "You have."

"Tell me how I can make it up to you," Janeway whispered, kissing her ear. "Please, darling, let me make it up to you."

Seven considered this for a while. In truth, terminating the puppy had actually crossed her mind on her way out to the pen. A quick snap of the neck with her Borg enhanced hand would have been quite effective, but she decided to exhaust all other possibilities first before resorting to such extreme measures, because she knew Janeway would be devastated at losing what she had already come to care about. Bringing pain to Kathryn was something that Seven would never willingly do, and it hurt her feelings that the captain actually thought she would.

I am becoming far too Human with all its accompanying weaknesses, Seven noted without pleasure. Then Janeway was nuzzling her neck, raising up to kiss her temple, her cheek, tugging at her to roll over.

Still, some weaknesses are better than others, Seven allowed with only a trace of reluctance.

Grudgingly, she allowed Janeway to pull her over until she was facing the captain.

"I'm sorry, darling," Janeway crooned as she covered Seven's face with kisses.

"If I forgive you, will you stop this?" Seven asked.

Janeway pulled back, startled. "Do you want me to?" she asked.

"No," Seven said in her most reasonable tone. "That is why I wish to know if I can forgive you now or if I must wait until you are finished."

Janeway smiled. "I won't stop," she promised.

"Then I forgive you," Seven said and kissed her back.

Kathryn returned Seven's kiss with sincere regret at having hurt her. She appreciated Seven's Borgness, at her ability to stand aloof from Human pettiness and confusion, but she also had to remember that the young woman was a great deal more sensitive than her demeanor sometime indicated. She should have known that Seven would never harm the puppy, for no other reason that it would hurt Kathryn ... and Seven would never do that deliberately.

"I'm so sorry, darling," she murmured against the generous mouth.

"I know," Seven replied calmly. "I have forgiven you. Do you require more?"

"No," Janeway said and found herself smiling. "I guess I'm still not used to how you forgive so easily." She ran her hand lightly over Seven's ribs, over the hip and back up the spine.

"I love you," Seven noted with a touch of confusion, as she returned the caresses gently. "Why should I not forgive you?"

"Sometimes the people you care about are the hardest to forgive," Janeway told her.

"That does not make sense," Seven said flatly.

"Perhaps," Janeway allowed. "But that's the way it is."

Seven shook her head briefly. "Sometimes I do not think I shall ever be fully Human," she said, her caresses becoming absent in intent. She looked blankly into the greyness of the room, her gaze seeming distant and far away.

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing," Janeway offered casually.

Seven refocused, eyes shifting to meet hers, clearly startled. "I thought you wanted me to be Human," she said.

"Perhaps in the beginning," Janeway responded thoughtfully. She leaned forward and kissed Seven. "In fact, I know I pushed it at times," she admitted softly, "but when all is said and done, I just want you to be you, darling. Having been Borg is part of who you are. It would be wrong of me to demand you forget that, or not be affected by it. You are who you are ... and I absolutely adore who you are."

Seven seemed to be deep in thought. "I believe I understand," she said. She paused. "If you had been stranded in that other universe, and I had not been with you, would you have fallen in love with Dr. Hansen?"

Kathryn let her breath out in a rush. Damn, but Seven came up with the strangest questions, and at the oddest times. No, she reconsidered, taking it back. Seven always came up with them at the same time ... usually when they were about to make love. Maybe it was because Janeway was at her most vulnerable, and Seven thought she could pry the best answers out of her partner.

"I can't say with any certainty, darling," she answered as honestly as possible. "I think I would have missed you so terribly that any reminder, as Dr. Hansen would be, would have been too much to bear ... but I don't know for sure. It's equally possible I would have ended up reaching out to her as a substitute for you." She arched her brow, decided to turn the tables. "What about you?"

Seven frowned. "I think it would have been very odd for me to become involved with Dr. Hansen," she said. "Though we could have easily shared outfits."

Janeway closed her eyes briefly. "No, Seven," she said. She wondered if Seven was really that literal, or did she deliberately misunderstand on occasion for her own reasons? "Would you have become involved with Commodore Johnson?"

Seven hesitated. "Perhaps," she said. And offered no more.

Janeway frowned. "And?" she prompted.

"She is very attractive," Seven admitted reluctantly. "Not to mention, extremely similar to you. It would have been most efficient to continue my relationship with a known entity rather than attempt to start all over again with someone new."

Janeway bit her lip. "I see," she said. "So you stay with me because it would be too difficult to try someone different."

Seven hesitated. "I do almost have you trained properly," she said.

Janeway blinked, then saw the humor in the pale eyes, and realized that her partner had been pulling her chain, and quite thoroughly.

"Indeed!" she exclaimed, both astonished and delighted with the unexpected teasing.  She reached over and started to tickle Seven's ribs.

Since this was a completely new experience for the other woman, Seven was taken totally by surprise, and was very quickly squirming impotently under the assault. Janeway just as quickly relented, remembering how easy it was to cross the line from teasing to tormenting. Seven was gulping, looking at her wide-eyed.

"That was unwise," Seven told her. "Especially since I know you are more susceptible to this than I would be."

"Oh no," Janeway objected but Seven's fingers were already skittering across her mid-section.

Immediately, Janeway was helpless with laughter, but Seven also seemed to know when to stop, and very shortly Janeway was looking up at her partner, trying to catch her breath as the Borg cradled her in her arms, looking down at her with unadulterated love and devotion. Janeway decided that being tickled by Seven was considerably different than being tickled by anyone else, having found Seven's playful assault to be arousing rather than annoying. She guessed she'd be more apt to allow her partner this liberty in the future now that she had made that discovery.

"You are the only Kathryn I want," Seven told her sincerely. "In any universe."

"That's good," Janeway said with a wide smile. "Because I'm the only one you have." She rose up and kissed Seven, sinking back as the younger woman followed the contact down.

"It was intriguing to see that other universe, however," Seven noted when they broke for air some minutes later, not letting the topic go even after Kathryn was clearly indicating with both mouth and hands that she was more than ready to move this into a more intimate stage.

"Hmm, yes it was," Janeway said, trying not to be impatient. She supposed she could take her time. After all, time was something they both had plenty of here in the Delta Quadrant, and it was clear that Seven needed to talk about this. "What intrigued you the most?"

"It was interesting to see the differences between us," Seven allowed. "What kind of people we were there in comparison to who we are here ... and how we have changed since falling in love."

"We have changed, haven't we," Kathryn agreed thoughtfully. "Both as individuals and as a couple. What's the biggest difference between then and now, do you think?"

"I trust in what we have," Seven admitted readily. "I trust in you. I am secure in your love for me."

Kathryn smiled.

"What?" Seven asked.

"That is exactly how I feel," Kathryn said softly. "I thought that you would wake up some day, and realize that you didn't need an old starship captain holding you back. I think I've learned that in some unfathomable way, no matter what happens, we're meant to be together."

"That is true," Seven said. She kissed Kathryn gently, lovingly, then rested her forehead against the captain's. "I am so very glad I met you, Kathryn Janeway. I am so grateful that of all the billions of drones in the Collective, it was I who was chosen to be your liaison."

"Oh darling," Kathryn whispered, feeling tears sting the back of her eyes. "So am I."

"I am also grateful that you never gave up on me," Seven added gravely. "I know that I certainly tried your patience when I fist arrived on Voyager."

"No less than I did yours," Janeway said ruefully. She remembered in the beginning, when she had pushed the young woman away, not daring to become involved even though she was already in love with her. She reached up and stroked Seven's cheek, looking intently into the blue eyes. "Thank you for putting up with me, darling. For never letting my fears and insecurities keep you from staying the course."

"You are a difficult person to be involved with," Seven admitted with a smile, echoing the words she had used so many months before. "However, it has always been worth it."

"I'm so very glad you think so, darling," Janeway said. She reached up and kissed Seven very gently, barely brushing her lips over hers. "You are my heart, Annika. I shall always love you. Believe that.  Nothing shall ever change how I feel about you."

"I will always love you," Seven whispered. She deepened the kiss, softly touching Janeway's tongue with her own, but only briefly. "May I ask you a question?" she asked when they had parted.

Janeway stifled a sigh. "Of course," she said, though she was a trifle uneasy. She wondered why Seven, the most honest and straightforward person she knew, was hesitant about asking her anything, and she felt a certain apprehension stab through her.

"Have you ever really thought about our having children?" Seven offered.

Oh boy, so that was the question, the captain thought with a bit of dismay.

"Not really," Janeway admitted cautiously. "Being lost in the Delta Quadrant makes it a difficult thing to consider. Sometimes I do think about how it will be once we return to the Alpha Quadrant, what our lives will be like, where and how we'll live. Do you really want children, Seven?"

"I believe I do," Seven responded thoughtfully. "My research tonight indicated that the care of a puppy is somewhat similar to that of a child," Seven said. "Is that true?"

Janeway took a breath. So that was what had inspired this line of discussion.

"A puppy is a great deal easier to raise and care for," she warned.

"Oh," Seven noted. She paused. "Still, this may be a good experience for me to help discover if I am comfortable with raising a child."

Janeway forced herself not to panic. Although she had considered having children on various occasions with her previous fiancés, it had been only in the abstract, something that had never developed to where she had to consider it as a reality. As the years passed, her career had taken the forefront, regulating such speculation into the 'might never be' category ... something she did not particularly regret. Now it seemed that she had to consider it for real, from a rather different viewpoint, knowing that Seven would only have brought it up now because she was quite serious about the future possibility.

"I'm sure you're capable of succeeding at anything you might want to do," Janeway said carefully, regarding her partner intently. "I think you would be a wonderful mother."

Seven seemed very pleased by the words. "Thank you," she returned. "I think you would be an outstanding parent as well."

Janeway sighed. "Perhaps," she allowed. "I don't know. I haven't really considered the whole idea very seriously. Maybe it's time I did."

Seven regarded her gravely. "Do you like children, Kathryn?" she asked, as if the contrary had just occurred to her.

"I haven't been involved with them much," Janeway replied honestly. "My life is such that I rarely come in contact with them in any form. For the last five years, there's only been one child in the vicinity."

"I see," Seven said thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should begin spending time with Naomi Wildman ... in order to determine your comfort level."

"That's probably a good idea," Janeway said tentatively, swallowing hard, wondering what she was getting herself into now. "I believe I will."

Seven seemed content with that, and Janeway allowed herself to breathe a little easier. Still, it was clearly something she would have to address one way or another the closer they got to returning to the Alpha Quadrant. To the day they returned to a more normal, settled life.

One day in the future.

Epilogue

Commodore Kathryn Johnson wearily returned to her quarters after having spent several hours trying to compose a letter requesting a demotion and a return to ship duty. Such a request was rarely granted, she knew, but the Federation was in the middle of a war, and Starfleet had lost more than a few good captains in the course of it. Perhaps she would buck the odds yet again and manage to return to where she belonged ... at the conn of a starship.

The dim setting of the lights in her quarters were enough to navigate by, and she did not bother bringing them up as she undressed and slipped on a nightgown. With a low sigh, she entered her bedroom, hoping that her sleep would be undisturbed and restful for a change. It had been so long since she had slept well, she could barely remember what a good night's sleep was. She pulled back the sheets, putting one knee on the mattress in preparation of crawling in.

That's when she noticed her bed was already occupied.

"Lights."

That came out in a strangled squeak and swallowing hard, Johnson tried again.

"Computer, lights." The room brightened, revealing everything. Johnson, frozen with one knee on the bed, a white-knuckled grip on the blanket, her other hand resting on her chest like some damsel in a bad holo-novel. Stretched out before her, like some sacrificial offering, the long, sleek form which was Dr. Annika Hansen.

The luxurious hair had been loosened from the tight bun the scientist customarily wore, flung across the pillow like the finest gold. Her breasts were full, tipped with pink nipples, a flat stomach flexing over a thatch of blonde, a few shades darker than that on her head, while her legs seemed to run on forever. Her skin glowed alabaster against the deep blue of the sheets as she rested her weight on her right elbow, half-turning towards the commodore.

"Doctor," Kathryn said tightly, looking at the slim form displaying itself on the other side of the bed. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Waiting for you," Annika responded quietly. Her eyes were dark pools of azure, regarding Kathryn with a calm, cool intensity.

"Why?"

"Because Seven said this was the perfect way to focus your attention," Annika explained. "I really wanted to focus your attention."

"Again, why?" the commodore asked.

Annika abruptly rose up to her knees and crossed the expanse of bed. Kathryn found herself freezing once more, remarkably like a deer caught in the headlights of some vehicle bearing down on it, intent on crushing the very life from it. The young woman stopped a bare breath away, rising over her like a goddess. Johnson could feel the heat radiating off her, smell the heady scent of a clean, ready female body, touched with  the faintest trace of perfume. Annika made no attempt to touch her, instead, looking Johnson up and down with slow consideration, her lips pursed slightly.

"I think you know why, Kathryn," she said in a low voice.

"I'm married," Johnson said flatly.

"I've heard," Annika said. "He's a fool to let you go." She leaned forward, closing the distance between them before Johnson could object, and kissed her with such a sweet, tender, utterly loving passion that Johnson swore she was going to pass out.  She was acutely aware of the younger woman's arms surrounding her, and for an instant, everything else disappeared, all her troubles, all her worries, just the space within this embrace that seemed to protect and shelter her from the universe outside. It was a phenomenal experience, and the commodore was considerably shaken by it.

"If you really want me to leave, I will," Annika added in a low voice once she had released the kiss, resting her forehead against Johnson's. "But let it be because you honestly don't want me, not because you think you shouldn't."

Johnson swallowed hard. This was completely inappropriate. She still had a husband, the term marriage far from dissolved, a career in Starfleet that demanded certain protocols, certain requirements when it came to becoming involved, particularly with civilians. This was absolutely foolish, an indulgence she could not afford.....

She remembered how Janeway had looked at Seven. How Seven had looked at her in return. Remembered how much easier and at peace Janeway was with herself because she could love freely and be loved in return, without conditions, or outside interference.

"I don't want you to leave," she admitted.

The smile that crossed Annika's face seemed to light up the room, bringing a glow to the ice blue eyes.

She really is incredibly beautiful, Johnson thought with astonishment. Why have I never noticed that before?

"Good," Annika said. "Because Seven didn't have too much advice to offer beyond this."

Johnson studied her intently. "Do you really need advice?" she asked curiously.

Annika tightened her hold on the smaller woman.

"No, I think we can figure it out between ourselves."

Bathed in the starlight falling across the bed, two women set about creating a new reality, one of passion and a love they had not known they were missing until they had witnessed it for themselves.

The End

•  This is the 8th in the Just Between series. It was written and posted around the first of October, 1998, around the beginning of the fifth season of ST:V.

• This was originally titled Just Between Here & There.  I think this is a more appropriate title.

Just Between Stars
G. L. Dartt

Entering the hangar where the next stage of a special clandestine project was underway, Seven's high heels clicked on the polished deck as she crossed the cavernous bay, and headed purposely for the obscure corner concealed by shelving units and cargo. Formerly the Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01 in the Borg Collective and now the astrometrics officer for the Federation starship Voyager, the gray metallic implant framing Seven of Nine's left eye glinted in the reduced lighting and on her right cheek, a starburst gave stark reminder of her time as a drone.

While recently assimilated by the Collective a second time, Seven had acquired the knowledge of Species 116, which included propulsion technology that could theoretically return Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant in a matter of mere months rather than the sixty years traditional warp power would require. However, there was still a little uncertainty as to whether this technology could be successfully integrated with that of Starfleet, so the ship's captain had decided that the project would remain quiet, limited to only a few members of the crew. The ship's chief engineer, Lt. B'Elanna Torres and Lt. Harry Kim, the operations officer, were tapped to help Seven work on the project. The first officer, Chakotay, also knew what was going on, but he did not have the expertise needed to assist in the actual implementation. Instead, he arranged duty schedules so it would not be noticed that the ship's most brilliant minds tended to disappear into the hangar deck for unspecified periods of time throughout their duty shifts.

Seven identified Lt. Kim standing by an open panel which led into the plasma relay manifold. The handsome young man was holding a tool kit, assisting another crewmember whose lower half protruded from the interior compartment. All Seven could see was the black clad buttocks and legs as their owner worked diligently within. A sudden stab of wicked playfulness shot through the young woman, and as she passed by the two crewmembers, she reached out and gave the wriggling swells a firm tweak before moving on around to the front of the shuttle. She heard the unmistakable thud of a head impacting solidly with the top of the compartment and a muffled, feminine oath that was uttered deep within the interior of the shuttle's engines. There was an immediate protest from Lt. Kim which made her smile faintly with amusement.

"Uh, no, waitaminute ... I swear ... that wasn't me..."

Her smile faded as she turned the corner and found B'Elanna Torres working on the other side of the shuttle.

"I do not understand," she said to the raven-haired female who regarded her quizzically. "If you are here, who was working on the plasma relay manifold?"

"Why?" B'Elanna responded, raising an eyebrow. She tilted her head and half grinned. "What did you do, Seven?"

"Something entirely inappropriate," a distinctive, throaty voice noted behind her.

Seven felt her heart take an immediate plunge to her toes. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face a small, compact woman with fiery auburn hair and absolutely the most marvelous blue-grey eyes that she had ever seen. Captain Kathryn Janeway radiated authority the way a warp core radiated power, and the burden of making sure her ship and crew returned home one day fell squarely upon her rather slender shoulders. Lost for five years in the Delta Quadrant without the safety net of Starfleet Command, she led by sheer personality, one of immense strength and compassion, and only Seven was allowed to be intimate with the affectionate, vulnerable and loving woman within. Though little of Seven's lover showed through at the moment. Janeway had her arms crossed over her chest, and her expression, one of firm disapproval, gave a foreboding cast to her elegant, high boned features.

"I thought you were B'Elanna," Seven protested weakly.

"Are you in the habit of pinching the chief engineer on the buttocks?" Janeway said acidly.

Beside Seven, B'Elanna hooted laughter and looked at the young Borg with bright eyes.

"You pinched her ass?" she snickered, her wide smile revealing sharp-edged teeth. "Wow, Seven, I'm impressed."

"I am not," the captain interrupted. She frowned as she regarded Seven, and the young woman promptly lowered her head in shame. "Seven, we've discussed improper behavior while on duty before."

"I know." Seven studied the deck intently. "I am sorry, Captain. I was merely 'having fun' with B'Elanna. I did not realize it was you."

She snuck a peek from under her lowered lashes, gauging how much more repentant she should look. She wondered if she should cry, knowing that Kathryn had absolutely no resistance to that, then decided it would be a bit much. Disregarding the fact that the situation did not really require it, she suspected it would embarrass the captain, and she truly did not want to do that. Besides, it seemed that the captain had softened quite satisfactorily with Seven's just lowering her voice, and inserting a quaver of remorse into it.

"You know I understand the need for horseplay, Seven," the captain said grudgingly. "However, you have to keep it to a minimum. Otherwise, valuable time is lost."

Seven dared to raise her head. "I understand, Captain, " she promised sincerely. "It will not happen again."

Janeway eyed her narrowly for a few seconds, then nodded briskly. "Very well," she said, apparently satisfied with the level of Seven's contriteness. "In the meantime, I believe we all have work to do." The captain eyed them both pointedly, then returned to her task, moving back around the shuttle.

"So why are you feeling so playful?" B'Elanna asked in a low voice as the pair began to modify the shuttle's shield resonance frequency.

"I am very excited," Seven said, matching the subdued tone. "I am planning to make today very special for Kathryn."

B'Elanna snorted. "You mean besides pinching her on the butt?" B'Elanna eyed her curiously. "Why?"

"It is her birthday," Seven explained.

B'Elanna looked  surprised, pausing in her work to stare at her. "I didn't know that," she said. "So you remembered her birthday."  She shook her head as if remembering something and grinned faintly. "I suppose you have big plans for this evening?"

"I do," Seven agreed, unable to keep her eyes from sparkling.

Seven had not celebrated any birthdays during her eighteen years in the Collective. A faint memory of her own at age six had been her only reference to the tradition. Her most recent one had occurred while she was on board Voyager, but it had become lost in the shuffle as one thing after another made the day pass with little note. However, Janeway, albeit a few months late, had given her partner a proper celebration, and it had re-introduced Seven to the whole concept of making the anniversary of one's birth a special occasion. Ever since that day, the Borg had wanted to return the gesture for her partner, and with the day having finally arrived, Seven was anticipating the evening with great excitement. Especially since the captain had not indicated that she was aware that this day was different from any other. Seven supposed Janeway had lost track of the Earth system which did not easily lend itself to the Federation Stardates used on Starfleet vessels, though it was May 20th, forty-three Earth years to the day of Kathryn's being born.

As she assisted B'Elanna, Seven mentally organized the menu for the celebratory dinner. A few months earlier, Seven had discovered the relaxing benefits and creativity of preparing food from raw ingredients, an unusual ability to acquire in a society of replicators and mass-produced rations. Seven had taken over most of the food preparation for the couple, utilizing recipes from the Alpha Quadrant that granted the captain a much-needed taste of home. Janeway was more than suitably grateful after five years of Talaxian fare for such a gift, and Seven offered it whenever she could. Today, however, required an extra special effort in Seven's opinion.

"You want to let me in on those plans, Annika?" B'Elanna prodded. She leered gently. "What do you have in mind?"

Seven glanced at her, eyebrow arching as she observed the significant expression on her friend's face. "It does not include toys," she responded pointedly. "Or any of your other previous suggestions regarding our love life."

B'Elanna winced a little at the reminder of a recent incident involving advice she had given Seven. "I said I was sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't know the captain would be so sensitive about it. In fact, I think she sort of over-reacted, but I will admit that I should have told you that it was a mutually consenting thing before you tied her spread-eagle to the bed and dangled that whip in her face. She probably thought you had gone insane."

"I do not wish to discuss this," Seven said darkly.

She still cringed at the memory of Kathryn's ire when B'Elanna convinced Seven that fur lined hand cuffs, and certain other forms of restraining devices would be to the captain's liking. One evening she had pounced on Janeway, restraining her to the bed over her loud protests, and it had taken a few moments before Seven realized that the objections were quite serious as opposed to the mock reluctance B'Elanna had told her the captain would probably react with. Seven could not remember ever seeing Janeway so furious, and the lecture she had received about the psychology of bondage, not to mention the need for displays of power, was seared into her brain with devastating intent.

It still affected her, and to this day, she still had not quite forgiven B'Elanna for it, even after dangling her upside down off the catwalk in main engineering, listening to all sorts of Klingon imprecations hurled her way before finally, B'Elanna had sincerely and formally apologized to her, though she had refused to apologize to the captain when Seven asked her to.

"So what do you have in mind precisely?" B'Elanna persisted.

Due to the secretive nature of the slipstream project, the Klingon had been forced to be exceptionally close-mouthed recently. A little bit of gossip within the confines of the members of the project team was probably just what she was looking for. It must be difficult for such an avid purveyor of ship's business to have to keep continually silent, Seven allowed. For that reason, she relented, and decided to share some of her plans with the engineer.

"We will dine by candlelight," Seven explained. "I intend to make one of her favorite dishes, and I was able to secure some of the wine she liked from the last system we were in. I will also attempt to recreate the caramel brownies she enjoys so much. The ones she received from her mother are all gone, but if I can replicate them successfully, I know she will be pleased. Then after our meal, I will give her the present I have been saving for her."

B'Elanna favored her with a grin that was both snarky, and a trifle envious at the same time. "Now, I'm really impressed. So what did you get her?"

Seven eyed her uncertainly. "You will not tell her?" she asked. "If you do, it will not be a surprise."

"I swear, Seven," B'Elanna said, placing a hand on her chest. "On my honor."

Seven leaned forward and whispered something in the Klingon's ear. B'Elanna's eyes grew wide, and she regarded Seven with increased respect.

"Really?"

"Yes," Seven said.

B'Elanna smiled gently. "I think she'll like that, Seven," she said.

"I think so, as well," Seven responded.

And actually smiled.

Janeway's eyes flickered sideways from the schematics she was studying to the small alert in the corner of her viewscreen. The computer was reminding her that her shift was over, and that she had plans for the evening. Very important plans, judging from how, early that morning, Seven had made the captain swear on her honor to return to their quarters at a specific time. Then, Seven had kissed her good-bye with such passionate intensity that the captain assumed whatever plans the younger woman was formulating probably included some intensive lovemaking. Abashed at how much she tingled all over from that thought, Janeway's generous mouth curled in a half-grin, and she began to shut down her board in preparation for logging off-duty.

I am a Starfleet captain, she told herself wryly. Seven and I are co-habitating, and have been for months. So why do I feel like I'm about to sneak out for my first romantic encounter?

Because, she promptly answered herself in the next breath, she was head over heels in love with the cool blonde, and for whatever reason, Seven of Nine had a profound effect upon her, an effect Janeway had never experienced with any of her previous lovers, all of whom had been male. The captain didn't necessarily think it had anything to do with the gender, more to do with how being with the Borg made her feel inside. Janeway had never experienced such tender, protective, and profoundly intense feelings toward another person before. It was definitely something she had never considered herself to be; this completely hopeless romantic.

Nor had she considered herself to be all that ... amorous ... on a continuous basis, either, but with Seven, she couldn't seem to get enough of her, though the captain tried hard to control her more ravenous impulses, not wanting to scare the young woman. She wondered how much of it was Seven, and how much of it was a result of the situation they were in, which admittedly for a Starfleet captain, was quite unique. Voyager was so far from home, and Janeway was so intensely aware of how much she had to balance her life with her partner, determined not to lose the woman for the sake of the captain. The chirp of the door chime interrupted her train of thought, and with a sigh of mingled annoyance and impatience, she settled back down behind her desk.

"Come in," she offered, schooling her voice to a calm, even tone. It would not do to fidget like some sort of schoolgirl on her first assignation.

Commander Chakotay entered her ready room, and she raised an eyebrow expectantly. A tall, broad-shouldered man with handsome dark features, he exhibited a quiet, contained manner most of the time, though he did not hesitate to challenge her when he thought it was needed. She found him to be a very competent, and extremely accomplished executive officer, just as  if he had been assigned to her by Starfleet in the first place, rather than being an ex-Maquis who had ended up on Voyager completely by accident.

"Captain," he said, laying some padds down on her desk. "I was wondering, are you going to be bringing Paris into the project?"

She frowned. Tom Paris was the ship's helmsman, and the best pilot they had. He was also the ex-lover of B'Elanna Torres with whom Chakotay now shared an intimate relationship. The two men had always been somewhat leery of each other, and she realized that their respective romantic entanglements with B'Elanna had not improved their attitude toward each other at all.

"Do you have some reason for bringing this up?" she said coolly.

He regarded her from level eyes, and grinned faintly. "He's about to start his Beta shift rotation," he said calmly. "With extra duty with the Doctor. He won't be able to do that if you haul him into the project."

Janeway did not blush, but she did lower her face a little. "Sorry, Chakotay," she apologized without specifying what she was apologizing for. She suspected he knew. "He is our best pilot, and the test flight of the shuttle is scheduled soon. However, to be honest, I hadn't thought about it." She folded her hands on the desk in front of her and looked at him earnestly. "I would like to keep this as quiet as possible, at least until the first test is done."

"I can fly it," he said. Over his left eye, a tribal tattoo crinkled as he frowned briefly.

Janeway's lips twitched. Chakotay's record regarding shuttles was legendary. He personally was the pilot responsible for the loss of six separate vessels which had been destroyed in various missions. He had even rammed his own Maquis ship into a Kazon vessel not long after their arrival in the Delta Quadrant. It was understood that if you wanted the shuttle back in one piece, you simply did not send the first officer to pilot it.

"Thank you for the offer," Janeway said evenly. "I was thinking I would fly the mission."

He stared at her. "You can't be serious," he blurted in disbelief.

She raised an eyebrow, and he realized she was, coloring slightly at his unfortunate choice of tone. She held back a smile as she answered. "I realize I may be a little rusty, but some simulation time in the holodeck will knock that off. The fact is, I do carry the highest rating after Paris. I would prefer to keep Tom here. I'm expendable, he isn't."

Chakotay blinked. "There is not a single person on this ship who would accept that," he said. "Nor, I doubt, anyone in Starfleet. Captains are not expendable in any way."

"Not in this situation," she replied easily. "You are fully capable of taking over my duties, but Tom's gift at the helm is unique, and there's no one else on board who could easily replace him."

He shook his head. "You know I'm going to fight you on this," he said.

She dipped her head in acknowledgment. "I understand that," she allowed. "You'll lose, however. I will pilot the initial test flight." She smiled finally. "Besides, it will give me a chance to dust off my skills.  While I admit you've actually managed to get me to take a back seat the past couple of years," she said, "I was a great deal more 'hands-on' in the beginning of my command career.  I miss the challenge of leading away missions."

"You didn't say that after you left the L'Borna system," he countered.

Janeway paused. The mission which had seen her and five other people stuck in the small runabout for more than a week had been trying on her nerves to say the least, but the fact remained, deep down, she had enjoyed herself, had enjoyed letting go of Voyager for a brief time. She felt an itch to go out and do more, to not be restrained by her ship as be bolstered by it, to take charge of her destiny, not just be at its whim.

"This is something I feel I must do," she said quietly.

"All right," he said, raising his hands in surrender. "But don't come wanting your ship back when it all goes wrong. I only give it up once."

"That's it," she said, arching a brow. "Be positive."

They grinned at each other, then a second, more insistent chime on her computer told her that there were other things more important that wrangling with her first officer.

"I have to go," she said, standing up. "Would you do me a favor? Try to channel any unnecessary requests away from me this evening?"

"Big date, huh?" he said, standing up as well.

"You could say that," she said noncommitally, eyeing him narrowly.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry," he said immediately, apologetically holding his hands up.

She softened. "You're not, Chakotay," she said, tucking her arm in his as they left the ready room. "I guess I'm still not too open to the idea of sharing the intimate details of my love life, even with close friends." She sighed. "I wish Seven felt that way."

"Believe me," he said, escorting her to the turbolift. "B'Elanna doesn't get as much information about you two as you'd think."

"I can only hope," she said, offering him a half grin as the doors slid shut on her view of him.

Janeway took a breath as she felt the turbolift descend from the bridge, pausing at the deck where her quarters were located. Where their quarters were located. Janeway was still getting used to that idea, still adapting to living with Seven, still adjusting to sharing her life with someone full time. In truth, none of her previous relationships had gone this far, although she had been engaged twice before. Neither of the men had ever lived with her on a full-time basis, even while she had served on the same ship as Justin Tighe before his death. Prior to being lost in the Delta Quadrant, she had maintained her own home in San Francisco, not too far away from Mark Johnson's but still definitely her own space, with her own yard, where her own dog played.

Occasionally, she wondered what had happened to all of it ... to her furniture which she had chosen with an eye to comfort and elegance, as well as all the other things she had acquired over the span of her lifetime on Earth. Since Voyager and her crew had been declared officially lost, some fourteen months prior to encountering an alien communications network which allowed them to let Starfleet know they still existed, she suspected that her house had been sold, her possessions packed up and stored, if not disposed of completely. She did know her dog, Molly Malone, had been taken by Mark, who had subsequently married the woman he worked with.

It was shortly after receiving the 'Dear Jane' letter from Mark that she started looking at other options. Seven had not been one she would have initially chosen necessarily, but the young woman had wasted little time in wrapping herself irrevocably around Janeway's heart and soul. The sheer unexpectedness of it still surprised the captain the rare times she attempted to analyze their relationship but then, she supposed that was what made life worth living ... the wonderful, unanticipated joys that happened along.

She was smiling as she left the turbolift and headed for the captain's quarters. She was barely in the door before a tiny red bundle of energy, and hairy excitement came tearing across the deck, and flung itself recklessly at her. Laughing, Janeway bent down and caught the small Irish Setter puppy in mid-air, drawing him up into her arms where she cradled him lovingly. The young dog was a souvenir from a previous adventure, and Janeway was completely captivated by him.

"Good dog," she crooned as she scratched his ears. "Were you a good boy today?"

Seven was regarding them inscrutably from her work area.  The tiny kitchenette, cordoned off by an L-shaped counter, was where Seven prepared all her meals, located very close to the replicator and the disposal unit. The countertop was covered with a simulated wooden butcher's block top where she did most of her slicing and dicing. There was also a small sink, a heating unit, several compartments full of utensils, along with assorted other devices which had been acquired when Neelix had stopped performing his role as the ship's cook.

"You should not reward him for leaping at you," Seven told her, with more than a hint of disapproval in her voice. "If he continues to do it as an adult, his eventual size and mass could easily knock you to the ground."

"I know," Janeway said, grinning unrepentantly as she carried the small animal over to where Seven was filling two small bowls; one with water, the other with a mix of moist and dry puppy chow. She noticed that Seven had on her blue/grey outfit, the one she truly liked wearing, as opposed to merely utilizing the garment's intended function as she did her other outfits. Janeway liked how she looked in it, the color bringing out Seven's pale, azure eyes. "They're so adorable at this age."

"Fortunately, they grow out of it quickly," Seven remarked evenly. She took the bowls over to a small pen situated in the corner, and placed them inside the low fencing. "He needs to consume nutrition now." She turned to the captain and eyed her expectantly.

Janeway reluctantly, but obediently, lowered the puppy to the floor.  "We really should find a name for him," she remarked.

The small pup regarded her with profound disappointment, clearly wanting to be picked up again, but when Seven snapped her fingers, he was quick to look her way. Another hand gesture from the Borg, and he immediately scampered over to her, tongue lolling, tail wriggling rapidly, apparently forgetting all about the captain. He knew who provided the food after all. Seven lifted him up with one hand, and deposited him in the run where he pounced on his meal as if he were starving, scattering bits here and there in his eager enthusiasm.

Though the Borg had been less than enthusiastic about their sudden acquisition of a puppy, Seven had tackled training him with the same focus and concentrated determination that she brought to everything else. Already, the dog responded to simple hand signals, a snap of the fingers to get his attention, the quick hand against the thigh to indicate he should come, a clenched fist to make him sit. House-breaking him had been somewhat more difficult, and Janeway could see a few damp areas scattered about the area where Seven had been forced to utilize cleaners and odor neutralizers sometime in the recent past.

"A designation would make his training easier," Seven agreed, going over to the sink to wash her hands. "Have you decided on any?"

"I did think about 'Poohbear'," Janeway offered casually. "What do you think?"

"His designation is irrelevant to me," Seven replied evenly. Which meant she didn't like it at all, Janeway guessed.

"I admit it's a bit ... cute," Janeway said, resting her forearms on the nearest counter. "Especially when he grows up, though it could always be shortened to 'Bear' at that time."

"He is not a bear, he is a dog," Seven objected reasonably as she returned to preparing dinner. "We could call him One of Three."

Janeway wrinkled her nose, suspecting she was being teased. "If he had been assimilated," she said.

"Is that not what we did?" Seven said mildly. "Assimilated him into our immediate family unit?"

Janeway eyed her narrowly, then grinned. "What about 'Jake'?" she offered.

Seven paused and Janeway could see her mouth the name silently. "There is an aesthetic quality about that," Seven admitted finally. " I appreciate it. Does it have a special significance?"

Janeway shook her head. "Not really, but it's a good Irish name and I like how it sounds," she said. "It will even work when he grows out of the cuddly stage."

"His new designation shall be 'Jake'," Seven agreed, sprinkling spices into a dish.

Janeway smiled, and chose that moment to slip around the counter, behind her partner where she wrapped her arms tightly about Seven's slender waist, snuggling against her.

"You, on the other hand, are quite cuddly at any stage," she told her teasingly.

The slender, statuesque blonde with the metallic implants and cool demeanor made a brief sound of disbelief. "I believe that is an exaggeration," she said pointedly. "Of immense proportions."

"Not at all," Janeway said, nuzzling the top of Seven's spine above her collar. "By the way, I'm sorry I was a little late. I was held up by Chakotay."

Seven turned around and looked down at her fondly, the corners of her full mouth turned up slightly. "That was not late for you," she pointed out. "It was only ten point three minutes past the time we agreed upon. I am accustomed to you never showing up at all."

Janeway squeezed her admonishingly. "Now, darling," she protested, "I've been so good recently."

"Yes, you have," Seven relented, returning the hug. "I am glad you are here." She bent her head slightly, kissing her warmly.

"Mmm," Janeway murmured, settling happily into the embrace. She gazed up into the ice-blue eyes which were full of devotion. "What smells so wonderful?"

"You shall see," Seven said. She tilted her head slightly as she regarded her. "I think you will enjoy it."

"Are you going to tell me what this is all about?" Janeway prodded gently.

"Not yet," Seven said. "Though I am surprised that you have not figured it out on your own."

"I'm sure I will," Janeway replied, grinning at the implied challenge. She kissed her partner once more, then drew away with a certain reluctance. "Do I have time to change?"

"Yes," Seven replied. "In fact, I have laid out the garment I would like you to wear."

"Oh, you have," Janeway responded archly.  She favored Seven with a startled look, then headed for the bedroom.

Intrigued by all this preparation, Janeway listed all the possible reasons for celebrating she could think of. None immediately came to mind, and she was still baffled as she found the civilian attire lying on the bed; a dress she knew Seven especially liked seeing her in, and one of the captain's personal favorites. Janeway honestly could not figure out what Seven had in mind, or why she had wanted to make this night so special, but she decided she was more than willing to go along with it.

Janeway carried the outfit into the ensuite, hanging it on the door as she stripped off her uniform and took a quick shower. Afterward, pink and fresh, she picked up the provided undergarments, tingling again as she pulled on the fine wisps of silken material ... definitely not Starfleet issue ... before dabbing her favorite fragrance on her pulse points. She drew on the sleek, sapphire dress which left her arms bare, and plunged down to reveal a good portion of her cleavage. She checked her hair, wondering if she should let it grow out again. Her hair had always been her most frustrating feature, and she wished that she had some way of making it look glamorous, totally unaware that the warm auburn locks were considered to be absolute perfection by Seven.

Janeway fussed a bit more, decided to keep the jewelry simple, a gold chain and an elegant set of earrings before returning to the living area where the honest appreciation in Seven's face was a wonderful reward for taking the time to primp a little. The captain sank gracefully onto the chair opposite the Borg, and removed the silver cover which had been keeping her meal warm.

"Darling, you spoil me," Janeway said quietly as she inhaled the delicious scent of pasta and chicken in a light, golden sauce. It was not her absolute favorite, but she enjoyed it tremendously, and she knew the amount of effort that went into preparing it was considerable. She smiled widely at her partner who blushed faintly. "This is wonderful."

"I am happy that it pleases you," Seven remarked.

Janeway reached out and entwined her fingers in Seven's. "You always please me, my darling," she said gently. "You are incredible."

Seven dipped her head. "I enjoy pleasing you," she responded, eyes bright.

Janeway squeezed her fingers. "So what is this about?" she asked with a grin. "What's the occasion?"

"You must eat first," Seven told her unhelpfully, then offered the wonderful, rare smile that made her look so young, and allowed Janeway to glimpse the outgoing, personable woman Annika Hansen might have been had she never encountered the Borg. For a brief second, it made the captain's heart ache. "At that point, I shall tell you if you have not already guessed."

"I'll try to be patient then," Janeway allowed, swallowing hard against the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat which made her voice husky. "I do want you to know I'm not complaining, however. I am loving every second of this."

Seven brought Janeway's hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles gently. "That is my intention," she said.

Baffled, but pleasantly so, Janeway began to eat the meal Seven had prepared for them. She noted that Seven's portion was smaller, even though the younger woman massed far more than Janeway, both in height and musculature. She knew the remaining Borg implants made Seven require less solid organic nutrition than if she were fully Human. Still, the young woman had learned the value of delicious food, and she consumed her meal with apparent enjoyment.

Janeway was also surprised when Seven served a previously enjoyed wine with the meal. She had thought all her bottles were gone. "Where did this come from?" she asked.

"I requested that Neelix acquire several bottles for me while he was on the planet's surface," Seven explained. "He complied."

"When he was with the away team Tuvok sent down?" the captain asked, astounded.

The Borg hesitated briefly. "Yes," Seven replied carefully, as if suddenly realizing she had perhaps said something she shouldn't.

Janeway took a breath, not knowing whether to be amused that the Talaxian and her partner were conspiring to acquire supplies, or if she should drop a bug into Tuvok's ear about Neelix's unauthorized acquisitions. The Vulcan security chief had not been enthusiastic about accepting the brash, outgoing Delta Quadrant native as a security officer in the first place, and it had taken a certain amount of convincing on her part to make him agree. To know Neelix was still not following strict Starfleet protocol would aggravate Tuvok to no end ... as much as he allowed himself to be aggravated.

"I never heard about this," Janeway said pointedly.

Startled, Seven looked at her, a furrow notching her forehead, but she did not answer, and after a few moments, she appeared to have worked out what her partner really meant. "I understand," she said. She paused. "Would you like me to destroy the rest of the wine?"

It was Janeway's turn to hesitate. "No sense wasting it," she said dryly.

"Indeed," Seven said evenly, filling her glass one more time.

Janeway shook her head. So much of what happened on Voyager simply would not have been acceptable in the Federation, but on the other hand, they were a long way away from the Alpha Quadrant, and her crew was comprised not only of Starfleet officers, but of Maquis outlaws and various civilians. A lot of compromising went on, though she knew it was her job to determine what exactly the parameters were.

She tried not to be overly concerned about it. God knew, there were plenty of larger issues to deal with in the course of the day as she tried to balance all the demands on her both as a captain and as a woman. She raised the glass in wry salute, and sipped at the delicate liquid with enjoyment. The vintage was absolutely delightful, and she decided she should be glad Seven was able to acquire it, especially since the captain's Delta Quadrant wine collection had been steadily decreasing with little opportunity for replacements.

They finished the main course leisurely, then Seven provided dessert, along with a mug of finely brewed coffee. Janeway regarded the squares with astonishment. "I though we had finished the last of them," she said.

"We did," Seven replied as she placed the plate of caramel brownies, still warm from their creation, on the table. She favored Janeway with an uncertain look. "I attempted to recreate the recipe. I do not know if I succeeded."

A recent encounter with an ancient device had landed Seven briefly in the Alpha Quadrant, where she had met Gretchen Janeway, Kathryn's mother. The older woman was a staunch Traditionalist, highly skilled in the ancient arts of cooking and baking from scratch, and she had passed on all of Kathryn's favorite recipes to the young Borg. Seven had done her best to recreate them, sometimes falling short ... Gretchen Janeway was an unquestionable artist around the kitchen ... but usually succeeding more often than she failed.

However, Gretchen Janeway's caramel brownies were a culinary masterpiece, difficult to execute and probably impossible to recreate.

"I'm sure they're wonderful," Janeway said diplomatically as she picked up a square and bit into it gingerly.

They were better than wonderful. They were exactly as her mother used to make, right down to the gooey, chocolate aftertaste. Isolated and alone, small pleasures had acquired a much greater importance to Voyager's crew in the Delta Quadrant, and the captain was no exception. This taste of home was a treasured gift, and Janeway thought she felt the burden lighten ever so slightly once again.

"They're perfect," Janeway told her sincerely, and Seven's eyes shone.

Janeway ate three of the sweet squares, then finally, replete, she leaned back in her chair, tummy bulging under the sheer dress. She regarded it with a humorous quirk to her lips. Never one to grant much attention to her own physical well being, Janeway had frequently lost sleep and ate sporadically as a captain. Nature had granted her a fast metabolism which burned up calories at an awesome rate, and it took very few lost meals for her to acquire a starved sort of appearance. That was changing rapidly under Seven's skilled and loving care, and Janeway wondered if it might be time for her to spend some time in the ship's gym to trim down a bit. Too much of a good thing was as bad as too little, she thought. Then, she took another swallow of Seven's wonderful coffee, and decided to think about it later.

"Tell me," she commanded.

Seven regarded her indulgently. "First, I must give you something," she said.

"A gift?" Janeway was honestly delighted. Seven was the only one who pampered the captain this way. She was the only one Janeway allowed to pamper her this way. "What is it?"

Seven passed her a small package, wrapped precisely with shimmering blue paper and a silver bow. "It is your birthday present," Seven said proudly.

Startled, astounded, profoundly moved, Janeway could only stare at her. "My ... birthday?" The captain immediately began translating the Stardate in her head, converting it over to the old time Earth dating system, not something she had call to do very often. "My god, I believe it is." She smiled happily at her partner, and began to unwrap the gift. "I'd completely forgotten about it." A velvet box was revealed, and inside was a diamond ring that was at once familiar, yet oddly out of place.

Janeway caught her breath, tilting it to catch the light from all sides. "Annika," she whispered. "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes," Seven replied promptly. "It is the ring your father gave your mother the day he asked her to marry him. Gretchen wanted me to give it to you. I have been carrying it in my bicep implant ever since she gave it to me. I was going to give it to you immediately upon my return, but when I saw what you had done for my birthday, I decided to save it for yours."

Before Janeway could respond, Seven was kneeling next to her, taking the box from her gently, and fishing out the ring.

"I have researched this," Seven said. "I know what I must do now."

She slipped the ring on Janeway's finger, and the captain supposed she should not be surprised that it fit perfectly. "Kathryn Janeway," Seven of Nine said in her most formal tone. "Will you marry me and share my life forever?"

Seven waited expectantly for Kathryn's answer. The captain seemed a little disconcerted, as if not understanding what was happening. Seven wondered if she should elaborate, or merely remain quiet until Kathryn had taken time to think. She decided on the latter, shifting her weight slightly so that it wasn't all on one knee, waiting patiently as she regarded her partner closely. Kathryn was staring at her hand, at the ring that glittered with elegant splendor, her expression distant and uncertain.

"Is something wrong, Kathryn?" she asked finally in her gentlest tone, spurred into speaking by the length of time that had passed.

Kathryn shook her head. "No," she whispered. "It's just...." A wry smile crossed her lips. "Neither of my parents ever did anything like this before. I know they're Traditionalists, but this is a tradition I was unaware of. They certainly didn't invoke it for either Justin or Mark."

Seven considered that. "What do you think it means?" she asked curiously.

Janeway had an odd expression, tender, regretful and startled all at the same time. "I think," she said slowly, raising her eyes to meet Seven's, "It means that my mother likes you a lot more than she has any of my other ... uh, paramours."

Seven blinked. "Oh," she said. "I like her very much as well." She hesitated. "Are you going to answer my question?" she added uncertainly.

Janeway looked at her blankly for a moment, then flushed furiously. "Of course I am," she said, sliding her arms around Seven's neck, and resting her forehead against hers. "You are my heart, Annika Hansen. I want nothing more than to share the rest of my life with you in every way possible."

Seven nodded in satisfaction. "Acceptable," she said.

Janeway looked thoughtful. "Does this mean that you want to have a ceremony soon?" she asked.

Seven took a breath. "What it means is that I wished to make your birthday very special," she replied honestly. "However, I have been thinking about a ceremony for some time."

"And?" Janeway prodded gently.

"I think I would like to wait until we return to the Alpha Quadrant," Seven said slowly, unsure of how her partner would accept this. "So that Gretchen and Phoebe may attend. Now that we know our return in the near future is not only possible, but probable, I feel that is our best option." She studied the captain anxiously. "Does that meet with your approval?"

Kathryn smiled tremulously. "I think that would be wonderful," she said gently. "I would love for us to be married in Indiana."

"Again, acceptable," Seven agreed. She caught Janeway's wistful expression, and she dipped her head to look into the eyes which were more blue than grey. "What?"

"I was just thinking," Janeway said dryly. "You're turning into quite the romantic. Most Humans would not have been as thoughtful in their preparation for this evening."

Seven raised her eyebrow. "I have spent some time considering our situation carefully," she explained. "I realize that being with you is the most crucial and necessary aspect of my existence. It is logical to elevate our relationship to the next level."

"So it is," Janeway allowed with a smile. She leaned forward and gently kissed Seven, her lips touching hers with loving sweetness. Seven returned the kiss carefully, understanding that this was a very emotional moment, wanting it to last forever.

Jake, fresh off his post meal nap, broke into a flurry of howls designed to make his mistresses let him out for a run. Seven drew away from the captain with a sigh.

"I still do not know why we must keep him," she complained.

Janeway smiled. "Darling, you don't fool me for a minute," she said. "You adore him."

Seven hesitated, wondering if that was speculation on the captain's part, or if she had somehow acquired some factual knowledge. "Nonetheless, his presence is very inconvenient," she insisted.

Janeway laughed, released her grip on Seven and went over to retrieve the puppy from his run. "Imagine what a child would be like," she said over her shoulder.

Frowning, Seven considered that.

Freed, Jake began to barrel about the quarters as if propelled by an internal warp core. Seven watched his random dashing here and there with a mix of annoyance, which she displayed, and mild amusement, which she carefully kept hidden. She refused to admit that she was actually starting to have feelings for the small animal, especially to her partner. She knew that if the captain found out the extent of them, she would attempt to talk Seven into allowing him to share their bed.

That fond of him she would never be, Seven considered darkly.

Janeway was trying to interest the pup in a ball, wanting him to chase after it, pick it up and bring it back to her. He had the chasing part down very well, but the ball was just slightly too big for him to get his jaws around it comfortably, and very often, something would distract him just as he was about to pounce on it. At which time, he would promptly shoot off in another direction whereupon Janeway would go retrieve the ball, find him, and try again.

Seven wondered idly who exactly was being taught to 'fetch' here.

While the young woman cleaned up the dining area, she watched them play, forced more than once to step lightly as Jake scrambled across the floor with little regard for what was in his way. He seemed to be enjoying himself, however, and Seven knew play was an important part of the bonding ritual needed for him to accept Janeway as also being his mistress. Because of the captain's many duties, it had actually fallen on Seven to do most of his caretaking and training.

She discovered she was unsurprised by that development. Somehow she had known the second Janeway's counterpart had shoved the tiny bundle into her arms that she would forever be responsible for the creature, even though he had been intended for the captain.

Still, Janeway did perform a useful function. Seven found limited enjoyment in romping with Jake whereas Kathryn absolutely adored it. That was fortunate, especially since this breed did require a great deal of exercise, and would need a correspondingly increasing amount as he grew larger. Seven decided that was going to be primarily the captain's department.

She scooped up a few of her padds, and found a relatively quiet spot on the couch, keying in the slipstream data, ignoring the sounds of their play, though not the rather becoming sight of Janeway in that dress chasing the puppy about their quarters. After a while, Janeway and Jake had thoroughly exhausted one another, and moved over to the sofa to join Seven, the captain stretching out full length on the cushions, her head on the young woman's lap, while Jake sprawled his tiny body over the captain's belly. He immediately fell asleep, and began twitching in his slumber, undoubtedly retrieving the ball in his dreams that he refused to do while awake.

Seven rested her right hand lightly on Janeway's upper chest. "Are you enjoying your birthday?" she asked gently.

Janeway, whose eyes were closed, smiled briefly. "I am indeed," she said. "It's the best birthday I can remember having in a long time."

Seven nodded. "I am glad," she said.

She returned her attention to the padd as her right hand, almost of its own volition, slipped down until it rested over the small swell of Janeway's left breast. She did not squeeze, merely placed it there, keeping her eyes focused on the tiny screen ... though she was vaguely curious what Janeway's response would be. For a few moments, there wasn't any, other than the small quirk to Janeway's mouth, a curled half grin.

"Seven," she asked finally, her voice husky. "What are you doing?"

"Reviewing the specifications for the shuttle's navigational system," Seven replied accurately.

"I mean, with your hand," Janeway elaborated.

Seven thought about that. It was rather obvious what her hand was doing, which meant that had to be a rhetorical question. Those type of questions, she had learned, did not require a response. However, the inflection in the captain's voice indicated that she was expecting some kind of answer. She considered her options.

"Do you wish me to remove it?" she finally ventured, deciding to answer the question with another question. "Is it disturbing you?"

"No, to both questions," Janeway said with a faint grin. "I just wanted to know if you knew where it was."

Seven was puzzled. "I always know where my hands are," she pointed out.

"So long as you do," Janeway said dryly.

That ended the conversation for awhile, and Seven returned to her work. Idly, she let her fingers gently stroke the silken sapphire material beneath them, not particularly surprised when a small bump appeared, making an obstruction on what had been a fairly smooth surface. Her fingertips toyed with the small knot absently, not allowing it to distract her from her task.

She noted the captain was breathing very carefully, one slow breath after another, controlled, contained, giving no other outward indication that she was noticing what Seven was doing at all. Seven thought that was deceptive, and she allowed herself a bit of amusement with the game. She wondered when the captain would finally demand more, when she would request that the caresses be intensified.

But the moments continued to pass quietly, just the muted sounds of Seven touching the padd's panel with one hand, the soft whisper of fingertips over silk with the other, the slow, steady intake of breath from the captain, Seven's own quiet respiration, and the occasional checked pant from the slumbering Jake. Seven discovered she was becoming aroused, that it was extremely difficult to continue her work with any sort of concentration. It vaguely annoyed her that the captain seemed to have more discipline over her body than she did her own, especially since the captain was the one being stimulated.

When Janeway finally did stir, however, it was to reach up and capture Seven's hand, pulling it away from her breast. "Dance with me," she requested quietly.

Startled, Seven nonetheless put down her padd, and slipped from beneath Kathryn's head. She scooped the dog carefully from off Janeway's lap, carrying the small animal over to the pen where she placed him ever so gently on the circular bed. The pup did not react beyond a minor whimper as she laid him down, curling up tightly, tail over his nose. Clearly, Janeway had completely tired him out. Seven wondered if that had been deliberate.

The gentle sounds of guitar strings, of violins and the soft wail of a solo sax suddenly filled the air as Seven straightened and turned around. The lights had been dimmed until there was only a mild illumination, enough for the women to see while granting a cozy atmosphere to the area. Seven regarded her partner who stood waiting for her in the middle of the room, captivated by the level blue-grey eyes which were so marvelously deep and penetrating, the auburn hair falling soft around the elegant cheekbones, the slim, lithe body beneath the silken sheathe. Seven felt an ache in her chest, unable to define why, only knowing that Kathryn was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed in her life.

The captain stretched out her hand and Seven accepted it, making the step across the space that separated them. She took Janeway into her arms carefully, gingerly, as if this woman was some special treasure that could not be handled with anything, but the most exquisite care, though Seven knew for sheer determination, for the iron will, there was absolutely no one stronger than the captain.

"Annika," Janeway said simply as they began to sway together, slowly, moving as one. "I love you."

Seven felt tears stinging the back of her eyes, the emotion swelling inside her, threatening to overflow. She swallowed hard, acutely aware of her partner so yielding against her, of her left arm firm around the captain's waist, the mesh-covered hand resting lightly at the small of her back, her right holding Kathryn's in its grip as if it were spun glass, fragile, delicate. Seven bent her head, her left cheek resting against the captain's temple, feeling the warm breath dance lightly across her neck.

"I love you, Kathryn," she responded quietly. Such short words, simple, seemingly inadequate, yet containing a universe of meaning that no others could.

The captain tightened her arm about Seven's shoulders, pulling her closer, fitting herself to the Borg as they danced throughout the living area. Seven had no real idea of what to do, intent only on keeping this wonderful contact going forever. It seemed so right to be with her partner this way, so natural to move with her to the rhythm of the music surrounding them, though when she finally did ease them into the bedroom, Kathryn did not resist at all. They stopped next to the bed, and Seven drew back to look down into the beloved face, falling into the marvelous eyes that welcomed her in.

For a timeless instant, everything seemed to stop, and Seven thought she would probably be lost in that gaze forever. Then, Janeway's mouth curled ever so slightly at the corner.

"Annika," she prompted softly. "Are you waiting for something?"

"No longer," Seven replied honestly. "You are all I could ever want or need. I could look into your eyes forever."

Janeway looked pleased and shy. "You really do say the loveliest things, Annika," she told her, reaching up to place her palm against Seven's cheek.

Seven leaned closer, covering Janeway's mouth with her own. It was a wonderful kiss, passionate, yet sweet at the same time, conveying love and desire, tenderness and eagerness in just the right amounts, lasting the most exacting duration ... though Janeway still seemed a little breathless when it was through. Seven smiled at her, every sense filled with her partner, her taste, her touch, the soft fragrance of hair and skin and perfume. Seven thought she could scarcely bear the sheer perfection of this moment.

"Happy Birthday, Kathryn," she whispered. "Happy Birthday."

Janeway woke in pleasant warmth, in loving arms and a cozy sense of things being completely right with the universe. She took a deep breath, stretching slightly before snuggling closer to the lanky form next to her, sighing with blissful contentment. She truly loved waking up next to Annika, adored the touch of her body against hers, of feeling connected to this person in a way she had never felt with anyone else.

Seven was awake, her hand coming up to gently touch Janeway's cheek, to stroke luxuriously through her hair. Janeway didn't know if Seven required less sleep than she did, or if the very actions the captain made while waking up ... the change in respiration, the shifting of position ... also woke Seven at the same time. All she knew was that it was a rare morning that she awoke, and Seven slept on. On those very precious occasions, Janeway would spend as long as she could looking down into the slumbering face, so achingly innocent and peaceful, unaware of the passing time as she regarded the young woman, feeling as if her heart would burst out of her chest.

This morning, Seven seemed content to lie there with the captain in her arms, not saying anything, merely nuzzling the top of Janeway's head gently. The captain slid her arms around the nearest part of Seven's torso, and hugged her gently. "Good morning, darling," she said, voice husky from sleep.

"Good morning, Kathryn," Seven replied quietly, and Janeway could hear the smile in her voice. "You slept well."

Janeway smiled, resting her head on the warm chest, feeling it rise and fall in steady rhythm. "Yes, I did," she replied. "How about you? Any bad dreams?" Since her re-assimilation a few weeks before, Seven had found herself occasionally experiencing nightmares which involved Borg and the Collective, but they were not regular, nor did they increase in intensity. When she woke from them, however, they tended to disturb the young woman for the rest of the day.

"Not at all," Seven said. She paused. "You?"

Janeway raised up, looking down at her partner. She frowned slightly as she thought about it. "Do you know, I haven't had a single bad dream since that incident with the Borg," she said thoughtfully. She had not realized it before. "You'd think if anything, that would have provided me with a whole new set of nightmares."

"Perhaps you handle being assimilated better than I do," Seven allowed evenly.

Janeway snorted. "I find that hard to believe," she said. She reached up and stroked Seven's chin, running her thumb idly over the small dimple in it. "Thank you for last night," she said warmly. "It was the most wonderful birthday I can ever remember having."

Seven's eyes grew darker, almost glowing. "I'm glad," she said. She wrapped her arms around Janeway, drawing her closer. They kissed for a few moments, light gentle kisses, a way of starting their day off correctly. "I love you, Kathryn," Seven said when they finally parted.

"Darling, you're my heart," Janeway said. "You know that."

"I do," Seven agreed. "Can we be together today?"

Janeway smiled regretfully. "Hmm, I'd love to," she said, "but we can't. There's really too much work to do."

Seven looked depressed. "Oh," she said.

Janeway cupped her face and studied her. "I think I've been too indulgent with you," she said thoughtfully. "There was a time when we rarely got a day to spend together, yet now that I've made it a regular occurrence every week or so, you're still disappointed."

Seven blushed. "I know, Kathryn," she said. "I am sorry. I just like being with you."

"I adore being with you," Janeway said, kissing her gently. "However, we do have responsibilities, and at the moment, the slipstream project is a priority."

"I will work very hard," Seven promised. "I will make this happen."

Janeway smiled at her. "I know you will, love," she said. "We wouldn't even be attempting this without you." She kissed her again, then rolled out of bed. "Come along, darling."

Seven sighed a bit as the captain captured her hand, and pulled her out of the cozy nest of blankets, but she did not resist. Janeway went into the ensuite first, showering and donning the uniform that had been replicated the night before. When she finished, Seven had breakfast already on the table, and Janeway took a long draught from the steaming mug of coffee as the young woman disappeared back into the bedroom.

Janeway had not been in the habit of eating breakfast ... another bad habit laid to rest, she thought sardonically ... before being involved with Seven. Now, the young woman made sure the captain had a large meal to start her morning, heavy on fruits and cereals, with the rich, flavorful coffee the only vice she was allowed. Janeway smiled as she consumed her blueberry pancakes and orange juice, enjoying the fact that in here, in these rooms, she was the one being taken care of rather than always having to take care of everyone else.

Seven returned from the bedroom after a pass through the sonic shower, wearing her old outfit, the brown mesh suit. It, along with her blonde hair which was done up in an austere bun, accorded her demeanor an impassive coldness. The kiss she deposited on the back of Janeway's neck was far from cold, however.

"What will you do today?" the Borg asked as she sat across from the captain, quickly eating her own breakfast, so much smaller than the captain's, which meant they finished at about the same time.

Janeway drained the last of her coffee and stood up, depositing her dishes in the nearby recycling unit.

"Long range sensors have picked up an unusual binary star system," she explained as she scooped her pips off the table, and fastened them to her collar. To the left of her tunic, she affixed the golden comm badge. "Astrophysics has made a formal request to study it, so I'm having the ship take up station-keeping inside the area." She looked at Seven. "I was thinking, if we have all the sensors keyed to the phenomena while Chakotay maintains the aft subsystems, we could do a test flight with no one being the wiser."

Seven looked thoughtful as she drifted over to the captain, reaching up to straighten Janeway's collar idly, smoothing it with her fingers as she made sure the four golden pips were prominently displayed. "We are very close to that stage," Seven admitted slowly. "Once the deflector array is adjusted, we will have advanced as far as we can using the holodeck simulations."

"My thoughts exactly," Janeway said, regarding her partner quietly. She paused. "I intend to pilot the test flight."

Seven raised an eyebrow, the metallic eyepiece glinting as she frowned, but she did not answer right away. Instead, she returned Janeway's gaze with one of her own, steady, immovable. Since their mutual assimilation, she and Janeway had come to share a certain understanding that displayed itself at the most unexpected times. This was apparently one of them since the captain did not receive the objections she was expecting.

"I will accompany you in order to monitor the energy readouts," Seven said.

Janeway swallowed her immediate outburst. "You are the expert on the slipstream technology," she said mildly. "I don't know that the ship can afford to lose you. If anything goes wrong..."

"If anything goes wrong," Seven interrupted. "I would be required to fix it. B'Elanna, meanwhile, is better suited for reproducing the work, and in fact, it is possible she could improve upon it." She dipped her head, pinning Janeway's eyes. "I will not be separated from you," she added firmly. "Not in this."

Defeated, the captain lowered her eyes. "All right," she agreed. She smiled faintly. "To be honest, I want you along."

Seven slipped her arms around her and hugged her. "I am glad, Kathryn," she whispered into the auburn hair. "Be sure to have a good day."

Janeway returned the embrace, reaching up to kiss Seven gently on the chin. "You too, love."

They drew away from each other, and Seven handed the captain a thermos before picking up her own padds from where she had dropped them on the table. They headed out the door together, splitting up at the turbolift. Janeway took the first car to the bridge, the thermos tucked under her arm as she stepped onto command central. She nodded at her chief of security, Tuvok as she entered, and he raised an elegantly upswept eyebrow.

"Good morning, Captain," he said from his post at tactical.

"Good morning, Tuvok," she responded with a gentle smile. She wondered briefly if she should have brought him into her confidence about the slipstream project. He was her closest friend on the ship, and his role as her security chief would mean that once he did find out, he would be ... mildly annoyed. Which meant in Human terms, of course, that he would be positively furious with her.

Susan Nicoletti had replaced Lt. Kim at ops. If the dark-haired engineer noticed that she was taking over more and more of his bridge time lately, she had not mentioned it, or indicated anything other than pleasure at receiving the opportunity to cover operations.

The science station was being covered by Lt. Angela James. To be honest, Janeway was surprised that the young woman had continued to request the alpha rotation. Lt. James had been briefly involved with the first officer, and was subsequently not pleased when he developed a romantic relationship with B'Elanna Torres. She had initially being very vocal about it in such places as the mess hall and the recreation areas, but she did not have much to say about it ever since B'Elanna had confronted her in a corridor one morning, and explained exactly what would happen if she didn't grow up, and accept things as they were.

Janeway was quite aware she wasn't supposed to know about that. She was also aware that Chakotay definitely didn't. She supposed that was yet another shade to being involved with Seven. With B'Elanna having her finger on the pulse of the ship, Seven tended to find out things very quickly from her friend, and was not hesitant about sharing them with the captain. In this case, Seven thought that B'Elanna's approach to solving the problem was quite efficient. Janeway decided this new view of her ship and her crew, now that she was receiving the scuttlebutt as soon as it developed, was an advantage, allowing her to forestall certain problems much quicker ... even if it did make her uneasy at times.

She nodded at Chakotay who held the conn.

"If I could see you in my ready room?" she invited.

"Understood," he said. He grinned faintly as he followed her in. "Paris has been asking questions," he added once the door closed behind them.

Janeway placed the thermos on her desk and sat down, regarding him with a frown.

"Indeed," she said. "Anyone else?"

"I'm pretty sure Tuvok knows everything," he revealed, slouching in the chair opposite her. "He's been remarkably uninterested in my scheduling lately. Frankly, he should be displaying every indication of being extremely interested."

She took a breath. "I agree," she said. "That doesn't sound like him." She paused, thinking. "I want you to fill him in," she decided. "Astrophysics has requested we stop a few days to study the binary system we're coming up on. I think it would be a perfect time to run the test, and if Tuvok is in on it, he can monitor any sensors that might pick up the flight. Of course, once a successful series of tests are done on the shuttle, we'll be able to start adapting Voyager. Everyone can know then."

Chakotay nodded. "Good idea," he said. He eyed her narrowly. "You're really determined to go through with this?"

She favored him with a thin smile. "I will pilot the Edison," she said firmly.

"I still think you're making a mistake," he warned her. "The captain just doesn't do things like that."

"You know, Chakotay," she remarked, opening her thermos to pour her first working cup of coffee that day. "For an ex-Maquis, you have some very definite opinions of what a Starfleet captain should and should not do."

"Just my captain," he said dryly.

She raised an eyebrow at him and grinned. "You just don't want me to have any fun," she accused.

"I just don't want you to get killed," he said seriously.

She blinked. "Is that what you're anticipating?" she asked. "That whoever pilots the shuttle will be killed?"

"It's a possibility, Kathryn," he said. "That's why Starfleet test pilots have the highest mortality rates of all."

She nodded. "I have more faith in B'Elanna and Seven's skills than you do," she said humorously.

"What does Seven think about this?" he asked. "Or does she know?"

She eyed him narrowly. "She does," she offered. "As a matter of fact, she's going along to monitor."

He settled back in his chair, taking a breath. "Oh," he said. Clearly, that had been his trump card. The captain realized he had planned to get Seven to try to talk her out of doing this since he could not. Honestly, did these people really think they could outmaneuver her?

She leaned forward. "Is there anything else?" she asked, holding back her grin.

"Uh, no, Captain," he responded, getting to his feet.

She smiled at him. "Don't worry, Chakotay," she said. "Nothing will go wrong."

"I wish you hadn't said that," he said. "That's just asking for the fates to intervene."

She waved it off. "Superstition," she scoffed.

Seven finished the last of the alterations to the shuttle's deflector array. The slipstream technology worked by funneling the energy through the array, and focusing it into a tight beam, opening up a sort of 'tunnel' through space which seemed to shorten the distance between two points immeasurably. Seven had the math in her head to make it work, but she doubted that she would ever have the vocabulary needed to explain it to anyone without a scientific or engineering background. Not that she needed to. The fact that it worked should be sufficient for anyone.

It would work. She was absolutely convinced of that.

B'Elanna popped into the cockpit where Seven was refitting the last coupling. The dark-haired woman had become progressively more animated as the work progressed, though she hadn't seemed that enthusiastic at first. Indeed, she had been interested in the engineering challenge, but Seven suspected that deep down, Torres did not really believe the whole thing possible. Now that she had come to realize that returning to the Alpha Quadrant was almost in reach, she was displaying every indication of enthusiasm.

"How are we coming?" she asked, leaning over Seven's shoulder.

Seven snapped shut the panel. "I have completed the alignment," she said.

B'Elanna stared at her for a moment. "Then, that's it," she said. "We're done."

"Yes," Seven agreed. She was unprepared for the howl of exhilaration that exploded from the Klingon, and she watched in bemusement as B'Elanna danced around the cockpit. A hefty thump between her shoulder blades was apparently intended to include her in the celebration.

"We're going home," B'Elanna said. She looked around. "I wish Harry was down here to celebrate with us. It's too bad he had to return to the bridge."

"It is somewhat premature to celebrate," Seven warned mildly. "The drive must still be tested."

B'Elanna nodded. "I know, but every simulation we ran in the holodeck was clean," she said. "There's no reason to think it will be any different in reality."

"As you, yourself have said, however," Seven reminded her. "Simulations are not reality."

B'Elanna just grinned at her. "Who's gonna fly this thing?"

Seven frowned. "The captain has decided that she will ... pilot the initial test," she said reluctantly.

"The captain?" Torres was plainly surprised. "I thought that Paris would be brought in to do the honors."

"It is her decision," Seven said without inflection. In truth, she wasn't sure how she felt about it, but at least she would be going with her.

B'Elanna shrugged. "Well, better her than Paris, anyway," she said. "Paris and I don't exactly make a good team anymore."

"I will be monitoring the readings on board the shuttle," Seven corrected her.

"Now, waitaminute," the Klingon flared, putting her hands on her hips. "That's my job."

"No," Seven countered reasonably. "It will be your job to monitor the energy display from Voyager. In the event something ... happens, then you are better able to reproduce the work, and see where the error was made than I would be."

B'Elanna stared at her. "There you go," she said. "Looking on the bright side again." She frowned and eyed Seven closely. "This isn't just an excuse for you and the captain to take off on a vacation somewhere is it? You know, a little R&R before you come back and get us?"

Seven was profoundly shocked. "I...that...."

B'Elanna laughed, and thumped her again on the arm. "Just kidding," she said. She let out her breath and sat down in the pilot's seat, swinging it around to look up at Seven with wide eyes. "Wow, we're going home, Seven."

"That is the intention," the Borg agreed. She took a seat at the science station, turning the chair so that she was facing her friend. "I am confused by your enthusiasm," she offered. "You were quite willing to return to the Delta Quadrant when we previously found ourselves in the Federation."

"That was different," B'Elanna insisted. "All the people I cared about ... well, except for Chakotay and you ... were still stranded in the Delta Quadrant, and so was my ship. I couldn't just leave everyone and everything behind. But now that we're all going home together..." She leaned back in the chair, linking her hands behind her head. "Honestly Seven, I can hardly wait."

Seven considered that. "What about the Maquis?" she asked. "Would you not still be considered a criminal?"

B'Elanna shook her head. "Actually," she replied. "From what we gathered the last time we were there, the Federation didn't seem too interested in prosecuting anyone who managed to survive the Jem'Hadar. That wasn't a lot." A dark shadow passed over her face at that, but she took a breath and straightened, seeming to shrug it off for the moment. "In fact, considering the war, I think they'd be thrilled to have the experienced personnel to spread throughout the 'Fleet."

Seven blinked. "I had not realized," she said slowly. "The crew of Voyager will no longer be intact."

B'Elanna regarded her sympathetically. "That's just how it goes, Seven," she said, not unkindly. "It's pretty doubtful that the captain will even be able to keep the ship."

"What do you mean?"

B'Elanna looked as if she regretted having brought it up. "It's just that, in any situation like this," she said carefully, "there will be a Board of Inquiry into Janeway's actions. I don't know how she'll come out of that." She leaned forward. "Don't get me wrong, Seven. Janeway's the greatest captain I've ever seen, let alone been fortunate to serve under, but the fact is, she violated the Prime Directive in stranding us here in the first place, and she has done other things like interfere in certain situations that maybe a group of stuffed-shirt admirals might not understand."

"Are you saying it would be bad for Kathryn to return to the Alpha Quadrant?" Seven asked faintly.

B'Elanna winced. "Look, all I'm saying is that how Voyager is in the Delta Quadrant, is not how it's going to be in the Alpha Quadrant," she explained. "Not for her or any of her crew."

"I had not really considered what would happen to us upon our return," Seven admitted. "Beyond being able to see Gretchen and Phoebe again, or speculating on how Kathryn and I would live." She took a breath and pinned the chief engineer with a direct stare. "Her family accepted me, but others may not. That could be difficult for Kathryn if she is also in trouble with Starfleet Command."

"I doubt she's worried about that," B'Elanna said, getting up and going over to Seven, patting her clumsily on the shoulder. "Look, Seven, one step at a time. We'll worry about what might happen when we actually get there, all right?"

"Very well," Seven agreed, though internally, she was far from settled with it. In truth, B'Elanna had given her much to think about.

"Come on," the engineer said, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet. "Let's go tell the captain the good news."

Janeway activated her board, and glanced over her shoulder at Seven who was at the engineering console, keying in last minute data. The Borg was once more garbed in her blue-grey suit, wearing it for 'luck', as she had told the captain earlier that morning when they were still snuggled in bed prior to starting their day. Janeway thought that there were far too many people on board who were beginning to infect Seven with their various brands of superstition. As a scientist, Janeway didn't believe in 'luck'. As a captain, she knew you made your own.

"Status," she asked crisply.

"All systems at optimum," Seven replied smartly. "Standing by."

"Prepare for launch sequence," Janeway said.

Through the viewport in front of her, Janeway could see the hangar deck appear to lower beneath them as she brought the shuttle up off the pad, and headed towards the huge bay doors, opened to the beckoning darkness of deep space. There was no one to see them off besides Tuvok, who was in hangar control, his lean dark form standing sentinel as they left Voyager. On the bridge, Janeway knew their departure was being monitored by Chakotay and Harry, who were channeling all the sensor data regarding the aft area of the ship through their consoles, preventing any of the rest of the crew, who were busy monitoring the data streaming in from the binary system, from catching on that the Edison was leaving the ship.

It is possible to steal a shuttle from a starship undetected, Janeway considered wryly, but only if one had a certain amount of cooperation from the bridge crew.

"We are at half-impulse," she noted as the tiny ship cleared the doors and drifted into the vacuum. "Going to full."

"Sensors detect an asteroid at bearing seven-three mark four," Seven noted. "It is sufficient to help conceal our trail."

"Bearing seven three mark four," Janeway agreed, steering around the bulk of rock drifting gently in open space. "Full impulse, preparing for warp," she said. "Warp factor one."

"Slipstream drive is at station keeping," Seven remarked.

"Go to slipstream on my mark," Janeway instructed. She glanced behind her again to find Seven's eyes pinning hers. She smiled gently. "Mark."

"Initiating slipstream," Seven said, keying in the proper instructions.

The acceleration was noticeable in the small vessel as it leapt forward, and Janeway was mesmerized by the view of space swirling before her as a conduit appeared where she directed the shuttle. She caught her breath as the vessel moved easily under her touch, responding quickly, and she glanced down to see the readout near her right hand ticking off the distance. One lightyear, two, ten, fifteen...

The slipstream drive was working.

"Status," she said.

"Integrity field is holding," Seven said. There was a pause. "Captain, sensors are detecting an anomaly to starboard." Her voice was suddenly urgent. "We must divert course, mark three."

Janeway's fingers flew over her board, and the shuttle shuddered as she tried to alter its course away from the anomaly. She didn't know what it was, a black hole, a nebula, a magnetic string, but it was undoubtedly affecting them, pulling them to starboard.

"Can you increase the drive output ratio?" she said.

"Attempting to do so," Seven replied.

When the end came, it came with a bang.

Seven opened her eyes dazedly, her vision obscured by fluid which she was forced to wipe away. Her fingers came away crimson, and she knew she was cut ... how badly remained to be discovered. She straightened gingerly, head pounding, her ears ringing, as she used the console to lever herself up. Her board was lit with a multitude of red, flashing urgently as they sought to convey the message that things were far from optimum operating status. However, a quick glance told her that the shuttle was relatively intact, at least for the immediate future.

She tried to ignore the various hurts echoing through her body, turning to the front of the shuttle cockpit. She got to her feet, leaning against her station as she peered through the air that was filled with smoke, and acrid scent of burning synthetics. She could barely make out the form slumped over the helm, and anxiously, she staggered toward it.

She noted the crumpled, broken figure of the captain with dismay, and with extreme care, she felt for the pulse point at the neck, closing her eyes in relief as the flutter of heartbeat, weak but steady, met her fingertips. Her touch seem to rouse the captain, and Janeway stirred, a groan issuing from between cut lips as she opened her eyes.

"Be still, Captain," Seven urged as she fished for a medical tricorder from the compartment.

As usual, the captain did not listen, pushing herself up and looking over the board, a low cry tearing from her throat as she did. "Status?" she demanded, though her voice was only a weak croak, hunched in her chair against her injuries.

Seven was entirely capable of doing two things at once, and she ran a diagnostic on her partner with the tricorder even as she checked the helm control.

"Impulse power is off-line," she recited, glancing worriedly at the small screen recording the captain's bio-readings. "Main power is down, and we are operating with emergency life support only."

She retrieved a medikit from the compartment where she had gotten the tricorder. "You," she added with dismay, "have a fractured collar bone, four broken ribs, a broken wrist and a mild concussion. Please, be still."

"We have to re-establish main power," Janeway ordered though she tried to stay as immobile as possible as Seven injected her with a hypospray to dull the pain, and began to run a bone-knitter over her torso.

"It can wait until you are repaired," Seven said sternly

Janeway took a deep, experimental breath when the Borg moved on to her shoulder, wincing at the tightness. She frowned as she looked at Seven.

"What about you?" Janeway asked.

Seven flicked a glance at her. "What about me?" she responded.

"You're bleeding all over yourself," Janeway pointed out. "You're cut on the forehead, on your chin, and under your left ear. Not to mention your two black eyes."

"They are minor wounds," Seven said dismissively.

"Sit down," Janeway ordered, retreiving a dermal regenerator from the medikit before Seven had even managed to finish mending the captain's fractured wrist.

Seven hesitated, judged the look in the captain's eyes which were a stormy grey, and sat down in the co-pilot's seat. She studied the helm as Janeway ran the medical instrument over her face and neck. As soon as Janeway clicked off the regenerator, Seven began keying data into the helm.

"I'll need a replacement oscillator," she said, getting up. Quickly she retrieved the necessary part from the compartment at the rear of the vessel and began to install it, replacing the damaged one which emitted a shower of sparks before she was able to pull it out.

"What happened?" Janeway asked quietly as she worked on the impulse engines. The warp core was completely gone, Seven noted, and the slipstream drive had fused itself into an unworkable mass of metal along with the deflector array. They had been very fortunate that the anti-matter had been ejected before that happened.

"I am uncertain," Seven said as she finished replacing the oscillator. "The anomaly emitted an unusual form of radiation which disrupted the slipstream corridor, and caused us to abruptly return to normal space. The computer ejected the warp core, but the resulting feedback completely destroyed the deflector grid." She made a few more adjustments. "In future tests, I would suggest that we adjust our sensors to warn of any anomalies regardless of type, and steer clear of them."

"Good idea," Janeway said shortly. She stared bleakly at the stars out the window. "Maybe I should have let Paris pilot after all."

Seven glanced at her, startled. "No one could have avoided the anomaly without knowing about its presence beforehand," she said slowly. "By the time the sensors detected it, it was far too late to escape damage entirely." She paused, considering. "In truth, we were fortunate to survive. That is a testament to your piloting skills."

Janeway glanced back at her uncertainly, clearly wondering if it was the astrometrics officer or her partner speaking. Seven returned the look, meeting the eyes squarely. Finally, the captain gave a brief nod and returned her attention to the helm. Seven was relieved to see the captain's shoulders straighten under the red band of her uniform tunic.

Seven looked up as the lights were fully activated, and the smoke began to dissipate through the vents of the atmospheric filtration unit. "Main power has been restored."

She moved to sit beside Janeway, feeding the data from the science and engineering stations to the helm. The impulse engines were almost fully back online, she noted as she glanced over at her partner. She felt a sudden flash of pride in Kathryn, at how quickly she had managed to return function to the engines. For someone who did not have the benefit of the technological advances of thousands of species recorded in her brain, Kathryn Janeway was still the most intelligent being Seven had ever met. Capable as well.

"Does your head hurt?" she asked quietly as she worked. "There may be something in the medikit..."

"I'm fine," Janeway replied shortly. "I need to keep a clear mind." She made a few more adjustments. "We have full impulse again." She gazed through the viewport at the blackness of space, and its multitude of stars. "The question is, will it do us any good?"

Seven regarded her board. "We traveled a distance of one hundred, ninety-seven point nineteen light years." She glanced over at Janeway to see how she took it. The elegant features appeared washed out by the reflection from the helm, giving the captain a pallid, hard expression.

"It would take Voyager weeks to catch up to us," Janeway said flatly, running the calculations. "Assuming they start today and ran continually at warp nine, which is highly unlikely. So let's say one or two months to be safe."

Seven ran her own. "Without a deflector array, it is unlikely we could survive on this vessel for that period of time," she said, though she knew she must be stating the obvious.

"Run a scan of the surrounding systems," Janeway instructed. "We need a place to stay until they can rescue us."

Seven did so, cross checking the astrometric data that she herself, had charted with her memories of coming through here with the Collective.

"There are no inhabited systems," she said finally. "However, there are two uninhabited M-class planets in the G-star system closest to us. The third planet is primarily desert with a great deal of seismological activity while the fourth maintains highly agitated atmospheric conditions."

"Earthquakes or storms," Janeway noted, raising a brow. She glanced at Seven, and the younger woman was glad to see a bit of humor in the eyes which were now shading to a light blue-grey. "Do you have a preference, Annika?"

Seven considered the options. "Precipitation is far easier to deal with than unstable ground and lava flows," she noted calmly. "There is more apt to be compatible food on the fourth world in the event that..." Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Voyager will find us," Janeway said with utter certainty. She leaned forward until she had Seven's gaze caught by her own. "We'll be fine." She keyed in the coordinates and launched a probe which would set a course back to Voyager, telling them the situation and what they planned to do. Then she initiated the impulse engines.

Things were going reasonably well until the shuttle entered the first wisps of the planet's outer atmosphere. That was when the integrity field abruptly surrendered to the damage it had undergone, and failed completely. Without it, the shuttle began to shake itself to pieces around them, and Janeway's response was immediate, launching an emergency beacon, darting a look at Seven as she did so.

"Get the survival packs," she snapped, activating the transporter controls.

Seven moved quickly, retrieving two of the backpacks loaded with equipment from the compartment in the floor. She barely had time to hand one to the captain and pull one on her back herself before the transporter beam was sweeping them up, filling her vision with sparkles. There was an unusual flash of light, and Seven felt an odd sensation as she dematerialized. She had the uncomfortable feeling that there had been a power overload of some sort and she was very aware of what that could do to a transporter signal.

She materialized approximately five meters above the planet's surface, and her first sensation was one of air rushing past her. She had a brief glimpse of trees and rock, an instant to look down at rushing waters directly below her, before plummeting into the ice-cold liquid which immediately claimed her as just another bit of flotsam on the current. Somehow, she resisted drawing breath, knowing it would be a fatal mistake. She had just been learning to swim on Voyager, and somehow, she was able to remember her teacher's first instruction.

Whatever happens, Janeway's voice echoed in her head, don't panic. If you do, I can't help you and worse, you can't help yourself.

It was a near thing for Seven, however, as she was tumbled over and over, her body battered by rocks as she was carried along. This was completely unlike the placid pool on the holodeck where she had been taking her lessons with Kathryn, and she was unable to get her bearings, to regain any sort of control over the situation. Suddenly her face was clear of the water, and she was able to draw breath, two great shuddering inhalations of the life-giving air before being sucked under again.

The chance to breathe seemed to clear her head a little, and with difficulty, she began to thrash for the surface, knowing now where it was. The current seemed to ease a bit, and as she surfaced again, she was no longer being dashed about, though if she looked back, she could see where she had been pulled by the unchecked torrent of white water rushing through narrow granite cliffs.

She didn't know how she had survived it, nor did she particularly care at the moment. Using all her strength, she managed to use her inexperienced crawl to maneuver her closer to the shore. A convenient log, protruding a few meters into the icy flow, provided a much-needed place to grab hold as she slammed into it, driving the air from her lungs with a whoosh. For a few moments, it was all she could do to hang on as the water tugged at her insistently, then with an extreme effort, she used her Borg-enhanced left arm to pull herself along the log until her feet finally touched the rocky bottom, and she was able to stagger out of the river, collapsing on the bank.

She lay there for a long time, and she thought she must have passed out because the sun, which had seemed so bright in the beginning had lost much of its intensity, the shadows lengthening in the bushes which grew beyond the grassy knoll above her. She noted that although her hair was dry, she was shivering uncontrollably in her soaked outfit.

Hypothermia, came the dazed thought out of the heavy fog which was clouding her mind. She could barely get herself to move, but finally she did, managing to shrug out of the pack which lay heavy on her back, pinning her to the ground. She had no idea why it hadn't been ripped away from her while in the water, or even why it hadn't dragged her under, drowning her, but she felt a vague sort of gratitude that neither had happened. She had scarcely enough awareness to notice the tricorder and phaser, which should have been in pockets on either side of the backpack, were gone, undoubtedly swept away by the current, but the water-proofed interior had kept the rest of the contents intact and dry. She pulled it along behind her as she crawled up onto the grassy knoll before darkness claimed her once more.

Her last thought was of Kathryn.

Picking her way through the underbrush, Captain Janeway cursed with annoyance. She hated nature. It was all well and good in parks and recreation areas, but this unchecked, untamed wilderness she had found herself in was something she had no use for. It boggled her that people actually made extensive plans to go to these sort of places, actually yearned to 'get away from it all'. The only thing she wanted to get away from was all this ... this outdoors.

She slapped at the bugs that swirled around her head, and bit off an oath as she stumbled over some rotted branches. Perhaps the couple should have tried their luck with the desert planet, she thought grouchily. At least there, there would be no bugs, no steamy forest, no clinging vegetation that caught at her, and impeded her progress. Yes, a nice flat stretch of sand would do her quite nicely right about now. If only that panel hadn't overloaded at the last second and scattered the two transporter beams several kilometers apart.

She tried not to think about how it could have easily have separated them several hundred, or worse, several thousand, kilometers apart. She supposed she should be grateful for small favors. When she had materialized under that tree, it hadn't taken her long to realize that she was alone, and a quick scan with her tricorder showed a clear reading from Seven's comm badge twenty-four kilometers to the west. That had happened hours ago, and she had been following the steady signal ever since.

She stopped suddenly, teetering uncertainly as the ground before her suddenly dropped away, and she grasped at the branches around her, urgently seeking stability. Beneath her lay a natural vista of rock and white water, of a rushing torrent that thrashed and boiled its way through sharp-edged granite walls.

That would have been intelligent if she had landed down there, she chastised herself, an acid taste of fear in her mouth. Though the drop wasn't that far, she could have easily broken a leg, or dashed her brains out against an uncaring stone.

Or fallen into that rushing torrent.

She eyed the white water warily. She doubted she would have lasted a minute in that roiling mass which rushed beneath her, its roar drowning out the rest of the sounds of the forest, the incessant buzzing of the insects, the calls of birds, even the sound of her increased respiration.

She drew out her tricorder and checked it again. Worriedly, she noted that Seven's signal had still not changed, that it remained stationary, exactly where it had been for most of the day. She raised her eyes, checking the sun as she judging that she still had a few more hours of light left. She didn't know why Seven wasn't moving, or why she did not answer her hails. Though the distance the small communicators could handle on their own without linking to a vessel was limited, their two signals were well within range of each other. She hoped it was nothing more than a minor technical problem interrupting the communication.

It's entirely possible you're tracking down a body, her little voice offered suddenly. Or maybe just the communicator itself which has somehow become separated from Seven.

Viciously, she clamped down on that thought. If she let herself wonder about it, a whole list of troubling and frightening scenarios could explain why the signal hadn't moved for hours. She didn't dare consider any of them. With a determined set to her jaw, she checked her readings on the tricorder, made another triangulation with the sun, and began to work her way along the bank of the river. With any luck, she would reach the signal before dark.

She saw the blue streak against the emerald grass first, breaking into a run as she cleared the tree line and entered the small clearing. "Seven," she shouted and felt her heart spasm when there was no response, no movement at all, from the figure.

She fell to her knees beside the motionless form, staring in horror. Seven's head lolled bonelessly on her neck, and with her heart hammering in her ears, Janeway pressed her fingers against the long throat, remembering to breathe only when her fingertips detected the faint flutter beneath them. Seven's skin was clammy, the long blonde hair tangled and snarled about the face which was as pale as Janeway could ever remember seeing it. A nasty bruise darkened the younger woman's forehead over her right eye, a thin streak of blood streaking down her temple.

"Annika, can you hear me?" Janeway said urgently as she calibrated her tricorder to read her partner's vital signs. It occurred to her suddenly that although she knew the proper readings for Humans, Vulcans and Klingons, she had no idea what the norm was for Seven. She cursed herself in a steady monotone as she worked. So much she didn't know about her partner, things that she could have easily found out if only she'd taken the time.

You don't have time for this, Katie, her voice scolded her. Hate yourself after we've helped Seven.

From what she could conclude, Seven had fallen in the water rushing by, and had somehow clawed her way out. Sheer luck, Janeway though bleakly, not bothering to look behind her at the river. She knew what Seven's ability was when it came to the water, and even the best swimmer would have been in trouble in that. Maybe the outfit had turned out to be lucky after all. She was certainly grateful for whatever had kept the young woman alive.

But right now the suit was wet, its insulating properties keeping in the cold, and bringing Seven's body temperature down. The chill breeze that had sprung up as the sun sank behind the forest also wasn't helping matters. Janeway took a quick glance around, discovering two boulders a few feet away which provided a meager sort of shelter from the wind, and she carefully dragged Seven over to the lee side after checking the tricorder to see if it was safe to move her at all.

Moving swiftly and calmly, with a total economy of motion, the captain gathered up an amount of driftwood from the piles which littered the banks of the river, and cleared an area for a fire, stacking the wood in the circle of rocks and setting it ablaze with a quick blast from her phaser. As the heat reflected off the rock face of the boulders, she slipped Seven out of the clammy body suit, being as slow and as careful as she could. The multitude of bruises, scrapes and cuts, as well as one spongy dark area around the Borg's rib cage, spreading across her back, did not please Janeway at all, and she used the bone knitter and dermal regenerator from her medikit liberally on the young woman. After cocooning Seven into the compact thermo-insulated sleeping bag which she retrieved from the Borg's backpack, the captain shot her up with every antibiotic she had in the kit, praying to whomever would listen that the young woman was not allergic to anything.

Then, exhausted and deflated, feeling completely defeated, Janeway stripped off her dirty uniform, and crawled into the bag with Seven, wrapping herself around the still form, hoping that her body heat could somehow help warm her chilled and weakened partner.

Seven floated groggily on a sea of pain, of foggy awareness that insisted to her that something was not right. Her eyes fluttered open to see nothing but grey all around her. Grey mist, grey light, and a thin line of grey smoke rising from the grey ashes of what had been a fire. She took a breath carefully.

She ached. Every part of her, her legs, her arms, her torso, her head. There was a fine layer of moisture over her face, as it seemed to be over everything else, including the boulders looming about her, and little drops slid over the silver material of her sleeping bag, shimmering mutely on the turf around her. In fits and starts, the previous day's events returned to her, and slowly she tried to take stock of where she was.

She could hear the rush of the river close by, its sound overpowering all others, and for the first time she noticed the warmth next to her, tucked under her chin. She moved slightly, biting off an involuntary groan as she slid her arms around the source of that warmth, pulling it to her body, wanting it to drive away all the chill permeating her.

"Annika," Janeway whispered, waking finally as she was pressed against Seven's form.

Seven didn't know how the captain had found her or where they were now. It was simply enough that they were together.

"I am not functioning properly," Seven said, or tried to say, her voice a hoarse croak that both startled and dismayed her.

"I know, sweetheart," Janeway soothed her, stroking her forehead gently. "Just be still. You've had quite the ordeal."

"It hurts," Seven informed her pitifully, feeling wretched, though not especially afraid since Kathryn was now there.

"Somewhere in particular?" Janeway asked anxiously.

"All over," Seven replied. "Everywhere."

Janeway nodded slightly, eyes dark with concern. "You were pretty beaten up," she said. "You fell in the river?"

"I materialized over it," Seven mumbled.

Janeway closed her eyes briefly at that, and Seven knew she was upset. "The feedback must have disrupted the safety protocol," the captain said in an angry tone, though Seven could not figure out why the captain was so angry. It had been an unfortunate coincidence that the overload had occurred at that second of transport, nothing more and certainly no one's fault.

Seven also knew it could have been much worse. The safety protocol is what prevented one from materializing in solid rock, or another person ... or ten feet over a raging river. She could only imagine what could have happened to her or to Kathryn in other, much worse circumstances.

She shivered, and Janeway hugged her tightly.

"I am cold," Seven complained. "I do not get cold."

"Your body temperature was pretty low by the time I found you," Janeway said in a worried tone. "Stay here."

She slipped out of the bag, leaving Seven dismayed and disgruntled at losing the only warm thing she had. The captain piled more driftwood onto the embers of the fire, tickled them into a flame with a short burst from her phaser, and then quickly returned to the sleeping bag. Seven shivered again as the captain's now cooled body slid in next to her, but between the fire and Janeway placing herself behind Seven, the Borg soon felt herself warming slightly.

From the backpack lying on the turf nearby, Janeway dug out some emergency ration bars. "I want you to eat this," she ordered, peeling off the foil, and offering Seven the rather dry, tan-colored square. "It will give your body energy."

Seven eyed it without any enthusiasm whatsoever, but the lace of command in Janeway's voice was clear so she took it unhappily. She began to gnaw on the flaky bar, and managed to bite off a small portion of it. Janeway gave her some water from a canteen which helped marginally to wash it down. Miserably, Seven finished it, then glanced at the captain over her shoulder. Janeway was just finishing her own ration, taking a long drink of water, before placing the leftover foil and the canteen carefully into the pack, not wasting anything. Seven glanced around and saw her own pack, looking considerably more battered, lying a few feet away.

"This is inefficient," Seven noted. "We will be unable to survive like this for long."

"I know," the captain replied, snuggling against Seven once more, wrapping her arms around the Borg and trying to cover as much of her body surface as possible with her own. "We're going to have to move, find better shelter, a food source. We're too close to the river here."

Seven took a breath, knowing the captain was as informed as to proper survival techniques as she was ... probably even more so since the captain's knowledge came firsthand from the Academy, and Seven knew only what she had absorbed from the Collective's assimilation of Starfleet officers. Survival skills in the wilderness had not been a particularly relevant sort of data for the Borg to retain with any great detail.

"Now?" she asked.

"No," Janeway said. "I want you to rest some more. It'll do us no good to move before you're able."

"Oh," Seven said faintly, and relaxed, feeling the twinges in her muscles subside from where she had tensed them in preparation of getting up. She huddled within Janeway's embrace, wishing for the first time that she was smaller, that she could be surrounded by Kathryn the way she could surround her when positions were reversed. She also found she kept dozing off, something she rarely did, and she knew that she was continuing to suffer some damage from her ordeal.

"Do you know what is wrong with me?" she asked faintly.

Janeway, who must have been dozing herself, jerked slightly. "You have a concussion," she said, rising up so that her mouth was next to Seven's ear. "You must have struck your head on something. There's no crack in your skull, and no indication of the concussion being too severe, but you may be fuzzy for awhile." She rubbed Seven's back gently, soothingly. "You were very lucky."

Seven blinked. "I do not feel particularly lucky," she pointed out.

She felt Janeway pull her closer. "Oh darling, we were both so very lucky," Janeway said huskily and Seven realized that the captain had been very frightened indeed for her.

"I thought you did not believe in luck," Seven noted, curiously.

"I'm beginning to," Janeway said reverently.

Moving slowly, gingerly, Seven rolled over so that she was facing the captain, wanting to be able to see her face. She was feeling much warmer now, and a little less sore. Janeway raised her hand, brushing her fingers over Seven's face and forehead.

"Now you're starting to feel a little hot," Janeway noted worriedly. "You may have a fever."

Seven wondered what a fever was. She studied the captain intently. Janeway's face was dirty, her hair tangled, snarled about the smudged cheeks, and Seven saw some bits of vegetation in it. She reached up and plucked the tiny twigs and leaves from the auburn locks.

"How are you?" Seven asked intently.

"A lot better than when I was looking for you," Janeway admitted. She leaned closer and pressed her lips to Seven's forehead. "You scared me, love."

Seven felt a warm glow come over her, not because she had frightened the captain, but because Kathryn cared so much. "I am sorry," she replied, though she wasn't sure exactly why she was apologizing.

"I'm just glad you're safe," Janeway said and hugged her.

Seven sighed a bit and relaxed into the embrace, snuggling against her partner. The difference in their size usually had Janeway in the position of being held, of being cradled. Seven decided that the reverse worked quite nicely as well, and she slid down in the bag a little so that Janeway could hold her head against her chest, stroking the long blonde hair comfortingly. Seven felt safe and secure within these arms, warmed within by the thought of her partner being there, cuddling her, protecting her, sheltering her from the threatening wilderness around them.

Blissfully she closed her eyes and fell asleep, knowing nothing could happen to her while Kathryn was there. An illogical belief, but one she persisted in having nonetheless.

Janeway kissed Seven's forehead, alarmed at the dry heat she felt beneath her lips. Seven definitely had a fever and though the young woman was sleeping now, it was restless, body and face twitching on occasion, eyes fluttering. Every so often, she would jerk half awake, sigh and snuggle closer to the captain, hugging her tightly as if for protection. They were going to have to remain right where they were for the time being, Janeway knew, at least until Seven's fever broke.

She lay with Seven a little while longer, then, as the woman seemed to fall into a deeper sleep, she slipped from the bedroll and quickly got dressed. She built up the fire again, then dug through her backpack until she found the medikit. Once more she injected Seven with another series of antibiotics, dismayed when her partner barely stirred at the hiss, and pulled out her own sleeping bag which she tossed over Seven for additional warmth.

A quick glance at the sky revealed that the mist was clearing, but Janeway knew  that the planet's atmospheric conditions were such that she should expect regular periods of rain. Indeed, the horizon was starting to fill with thin dark clouds, and she had an unpleasant feeling that it wouldn't be long before they were dumping their contents on them. She had to make arrangements before that happened.

She checked Seven once more, then moved a short distance into the forest. She selected some suitable branches, narrowing the dispersal pattern of the phaser to a thin beam which she used to cut and shape them. She dragged them back to the grassy knoll, selecting a higher and drier spot a few yards away from where Seven was lying. Using the small camp shovel from her pack, as well as her hands, she dug two holes and drove the stakes deep into the ground about eight feet apart. They were forked at the top, and she placed another thick branch across them. Using other branches, with assorted bushes, and moss, she began to construct a rough lean-to on the lee side of a small rise which would help protect it from the wind.

Camping was not one of Janeway's favorite pursuits, and she could tell that the structure she was building was not as solid as a more skilled individual could make it. Chakotay, she knew from experience, could build an entire log cabin in record time, one of his many skills at being an Indian Scout on his home world. Still, she had been trained extensively by Starfleet in all survival techniques, and if it wasn't elegant looking, then at least she knew how to make her shelter watertight.

Her Starfleet uniform, she discovered, was not really designed for such work, and she had to discard both the tunic and the sweater as she labored in the warm morning sun, keeping only the full bra which was half shirt. Her trousers were hot, but they protected her legs against the thorny underbrush, and while the short boots were not the best for hiking, they were sturdy and waterproof, a good thing in this forest. She cut some strips of cloth from her sweater, and one of them was wrapped around her head, keeping her hair back, and soaking up the sweat before it dripped into her eyes, unaware that it gave her a rakish appearance as she trudged through the meadow.

At mid-day, she checked on Seven, woke her, made her eat a little and drink, then went back to work as the Borg fell asleep once more. Janeway knew the sleeping bag would keep her partner warm and dry while the weather held, and the tricorder positioned nearby was set to not only monitor Seven's bio-readings for deviations, but also to scan for dangerous lifeforms in the vicinity. Should either occur, it would give off a high pitched sound which would warn the captain.

Janeway knew that as far as provisions went, they weren't bad off at all, having managed to grab the two emergency survival packs. They each contained thirty more of the tiny energy bars each, ten days worth of food ... a month's worth if they restricted themselves to one a day, and didn't move around much. Using parts of them to supplement a native diet was a better course of action, and one Janeway was planning on instead. The readings had shown this to be an M-class planet where they could probably expect compatible organics.

The packs also provided all they would need to acquire that foodstuff, from fishing line, hooks and lures, sharp-edged knives which could make even bigger tools, to rolls of thin wire for snares. They also had two of the sleeping bags, canteens, cooking utensils, medikits, rope, and other assorted odds and ends the Starfleet technicians thought might come in handy in such a situation. There were even two small toolkits which were designed to work on fine equipment such as tricorders and communicators. They only had the one phaser and tricorder left of course, but all things being equal, Janeway realized how well off they were.

Certainly she had been in far more dire circumstances with far less to work with. The time she and her entire crew were marooned on a desert planet by Seska and the Kazon came to mind. They had been allowed no equipment at all and yet, they had still managed to get through. Compared to that, Seven and she possessed an embarrassment of riches.

However, Janeway also knew that the couple needed to find a more suitable place to set up a base camp. She was hoping for some kind of natural formation that could protect them from the elements,  with clean, drinkable running water close by and plenty of dry firewood. She wondered what she would probably end up settling for.

Another lean-to most likely, she thought glumly as she regarded her efforts. Still, she had spent a great deal of time lacing the branches together, and stuffing the chinks with moss. A thick layer of ferns covered the ground beneath the angled shelter, providing a soft cushion over the hard, heat-sucking soil. With any luck, the construct, as rough as it looked, would serve to keep them both relatively warm and dry.

She noted sourly that 'luck' was something she was starting to depend on, and resolved to go back to relying only on herself. She returned to where Seven lay and knelt beside her, stroking her cheek lightly. It was still hot and she checked the tricorder worriedly. According to it, the fever wasn't as bad as she thought, and Seven stirred at her touch, her lids fluttering open. Her eyes were bright and just slightly unfocused.

"Kathryn?"

"I'm here, darling," Janeway said softly. "I'm going to move you now. I want you to stay still while I do, all right?"

"I will comply," Seven agreed.

Taking a deep breath, Janeway grabbed the ends of the sleeping bag and dragged Seven over to the lean-to, sliding her under the overhang so that she was as far to the back as possible. Then she started a new fire in front of the open side, the heat reflecting into the shelter while the smoke was blown away by the rising breeze as the sun set, bringing darkness to their little clearing. She made sure the other fire was completely out, then joined Seven beneath the shelter, not a moment too soon as rain began to pelt down, gently at first, then settling to a steady, driving downpour.

She dug out one of the canteens and woke Seven again, making her drink copiously. Fortunately the tricorder readings revealed that this was a pristine wilderness, the river nearby clean and clear, completely safe to drink so keeping the canteens full wasn't a problem. Janeway also made sure they both ate, digging out more ration bars. The emergency survival rations were fairly tasteless with the consistency of cardboard, but they contained all the nutrients and minerals a human required. Surviving took energy and their bodies required a full intake of nutrition. Janeway refused to stint on that, especially now, where both were working hard, the captain with her construction, and Seven in fighting off her fever.

Afterward, Janeway sat huddled beneath the shelter, staring morosely out at the darkness and the rain falling steadily down, worrying about her ship, about what had happened during the shuttle mission and how she would keep them alive for the next few months until Voyager rescued them. Assuming that between here and there, the ship did not run into any delays or worse, something that could destroy it. It did not even particularly cheer her up to see her shelter remained solid against the rain and wind, the water draining off to flow away from their makeshift camp site.

This is the last time Katie, her little voice said pragmatically. You have to leave the adventuring to those who aren't responsible for a ship. Or give command up to Chakotay completely. This isn't fair to him, or to your crew. You knew what was expected of you when you signed on as captain. No more little jaunts no matter how much you enjoy getting away once in awhile.

"Kathryn, will you hold me?" Seven said weakly, breaking into the captain's depressing train of thought. "I am cold."

Frowning, Janeway quickly placed her hand on her partner's forehead, relieved that the skin was indeed cool, the fever broken. She shot a look out at the rain and decided she certainly didn't have anything better to do at the moment than grant Seven's request. She stripped down to her undergarments and slipped into the sleeping bag with the blond, wrapping her arms around her and pulling the woman's head down on her shoulder.

"Is this better?" she asked gently.

"Yes," Seven said gratefully as she snuggled close. "Much better."

Despite herself, Janeway felt her own spirits rising and she cuddled Seven lovingly, resting her chin on the top of the blonde head. "I'm glad," she said, delighting in the warm body against her.

"Something smells unusual," Seven noted after awhile.

Janeway sighed. "I believe that's me, darling," she said dryly.

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" she said.

"This is what happens when Humans don't have a chance to bath or shower for a day or so," Janeway explained, suddenly aware that she was quite musky at the moment, something that appalled her normally fastidious nature. "Especially when we're dirty and working hard. The natural body odor tends to take over in that case."

Seven shifted slightly and Janeway was startled as her partner began to sniff over her chest and shoulders. "There's not much I can do about it right now," the captain warned, a bit disgruntled. "Not unless you'd like me to take a shower in the rain."

"No," Seven remarked. "I like how you smell. It is very much ... you."

Janeway was stymied, somewhat at a loss for words. "That's some compliment," she said finally.

Seven snuggled closer. "It was not intended as a compliment," she said evenly. "It is merely the truth." She paused. "Does my odor disturb you?"

Truthfully, Janeway hadn't noticed and obligingly she sniffed. Seven was far less odorous than the captain, probably because she didn't perspire at all, one of her implants looking after that particular function, nor had she spent the last two days tramping through a forest and building a lean-to.

"You smell fine," she told her honestly.

Seven nodded briefly and hugged her.

"I feel better now," she said, nuzzling Janeway's hair.

"Good," Janeway said softly. "But I want you to rest, now. We might have to hike in the morning if this rain continues.  I don't know if this is a flood plain, but I wouldn't want to find out the hard way."

"Very well," Seven allowed. She hesitated, then relaxed. "I am tired," she admitted.

"So am I," Janeway agreed, yawning widely.

She closed her eyes and before long, sleep overtook her.

"I want to continue to work our way downstream," Janeway said, glancing keenly toward the horizon. Those were no mere rain clouds appearing there, she knew. They were big and black, seeming to boil with unleased power, and even at that distance, she could catch the vague flickers  that indicated lightning. There was a trace of ozone in the air, and that peculiar stillness that heralded the approach of a big storm cell.

Seven nodded, and adjusted the pack on her back as she looked expectantly at the captain. Janeway resisted the urge to sigh, aware of the scrutiny. Seven was up and moving, but it was still somewhat labored. However, she was able to hike at a reasonable pace and they were covering a lot of ground, though where they were going was anyone's guess. With any luck ... Janeway tasted the word ruefully ... today they might find a permanent place to shelter, something that had remained stubbornly elusive the past few days, which had seen them spending the rainy nights under hastily constructed lean-tos.

The captain made sure the fire was completely dead and buried, then started off, setting a slow pace so that Seven could keep up. She kept a close eye on her partner, monitoring her condition, not wanting to push her at all.

Fortunately, Janeway considered, Seven might even be having an easier time of it now that her bodysuit had been allowed to dry out completely. The blue-grey outfit was designed as a protective garment which worked with the Borg's remaining implants, constantly analyzing Seven's biorhythms. When it had suddenly been immersed, the ice cold water had gotten between Seven's skin and the sensors, confusing the readings and fooling the suit into maintaining the underlying temperature, one several degrees below what Seven should be. Now, however, it was keeping her warm or cool as she required, and the younger woman seemed to be getting stronger as the day progressed. They had knocked off the heels the Doctor kept insisting on incorporating into the Borg's outfits, and the flat soles were much easier for Seven to navigate the rugged terrain.

The rush of the river they were following was a constant companion, and though the going was easier next to the water than it was going through the woods, it was hard to communicate over the roar. For the most part, they hiked in silence, Janeway forging the path, Seven following obediently, picking her way over the uneven ground gingerly.

They hadn't found anything suitable by the end of the morning, and Janeway called a halt for lunch. They perched on some rocks overlooking the water, and ate their ration bars. The Borg was staring at the water as she finished the last crumbs of her meal.

"Do you think there are fish in there?" she asked loudly over the sound of the river.

"Possibly," Janeway allowed. "It would be hard to catch them in that, however, because the current's so fast. I'm hoping it'll level out further down."

Seven nodded thoughtfully. Janeway had taught Seven to fish on an away mission a few months earlier, and the young woman had been quite taken with the concept. Though when she had tried to recreate the experience in the holodeck, she had expressed dissatisfaction with the simulation, and Janeway knew Seven was hoping to be able to try it for real here. The captain was certainly not adverse to the idea. It might not simply be a matter of Seven being allowed to try her hobby again, it might be the only way the couple could survive while waiting for Voyager. The supply of ration bars was steadily being depleted.

The captain spared a moment to wonder about little Jake and how he was faring. She knew that someone in the crew would take over his care, but it still gave her a pang. Would he remember them when they finally got back? In any event, she thought unhappily, it fell into the category of something she could do absolutely nothing about, and with an effort, she pushed him to the back of her mind, concentrating on the matter at hand as she indicated to Seven that it was time to start moving.

It was mid-afternoon when the thick forest finally gave way to a small valley. The two Voyager crewmates stopped on the crest of a ridge to look down over emerald meadows bordering the river which widened and shallowed, winding its way silver and blue through the waving grasses, its roar subsiding to a more sedate burbling over smooth stones.

Janeway wasn't much for scenery that didn't include nebulas or stars, but she allowed that this was quite a lovely sight indeed. Her eyes traced the cliff that edged one side of the valley, and picked out some promising looking openings in the rockface. Possibly caves of sorts, just the thing to keep them high and dry, if a suitable one could be found. Finding this boded well for their continued well being, and she looked worriedly up at the sky. Janeway sensed the electric quiet that usually preceded a violent thunderstorm, a familiar experience from growing up in Indiana. The clouds were now looming overhead, and the sun had long since disappeared.

She glanced over at Seven who was looking out over the valley with shining eyes.

"It is beautiful," the Borg said softly.

Janeway grinned wryly. "It'll do," she replied. Unlike the captain, Seven found aesthetic pleasure in this type of planetary scenery, unusual since she had been born and raised in space. Or maybe that was why. "Come on," she ordered gently.

Janeway led the way down into the valley, and across the meadows to the rock face which seemed riddled with caverns. Quickly they explored the area, finding several openings, some of which disappeared into darkness, a cold, dank air wafting up from them. Those Janeway avoided, as she did anything that looked like it had been inhabited, and might still be. At the far end of the valley, they finally found a cavity in the rock which was sheltered on all sides with only a narrow passage to grant them entrance. The floor was flat rock covered in sand, while the ceiling was high enough for both to stand upright with room to spare. It was about five meters long and three meters wide, while cracks near the ceiling provided natural ventilation for a fire. According to the tricorder, nothing was inside or had been for quite some time.

It was perfect, and Janeway couldn't have asked for a better location if she had tried. The river was close by, but below them, the cave situated on a ridge far above any flood line that she could see. Janeway left Seven to set up a base camp in the cave while she made several trips into the nearby forest, gathering as much brush and dry wood as she could, wanting to have plenty before the storm hit.

Heavy drops were beginning to hit the ground as she made her final trip, and a stiff wind pushed her the last few meters toward the opening. Inside, Seven had started a fire, and had laid out their bedding over a pile of ferns, which Janeway had gathered on her first trip. A flash of lightning illuminated the cave for a second, making everything stand out in sharp detail, and startled, Janeway dropped her armload of wood, turning back to the opening.

It was pouring, the rain coming down in a steady cascade while the wind whipped it up into solid sheets. Again, Janeway felt immensely grateful for whatever seemed to be looking out for them. She would hate to be caught in that and, what it would have done to the still, somewhat fragile Seven, wouldn't have been any good at all.

Janeway put some of the brush over the cave entrance to shut out the noise and the damp blowing in, content that the way it was situated would keep the worst of the weather out. She gave her obstruction a final tug to make sure it would stay, then moved deeper into the cave, toward where Seven had set up camp.

She noticed that the young Borg was huddled next to the fire, and she retrieved one of the sleeping bags, bringing it over to drape around Seven, and herself as well as she sat next to the slumped form.

"How do you feel?" she asked gently, sliding her arm around the slender waist.

"I am tired," Seven admitted. "I am also hungry .. and I smell bad. I wish we had a bathtub."

Janeway smiled wearily in agreement, pulling off her headband, and trying not to get too strong a whiff of herself. "I know what you mean," she said. "Believe it or not, however, we're a hundred percent better off now than we were this morning."

"I understand," Seven said quietly. She glanced at Janeway. "How are you?"

The captain leaned against her gently. "I'm doing all right," she said. "Though I would love to have anything but a ration bar for dinner. Yet, that's what we're going to do: eat our rations, go to bed, and set about improving our lot even more in the morning."

"I think we shall be able to," Seven said hopefully.

Janeway favored her with a smile, and dug out two more bars. They ate quietly, and afterward, Janeway went over their supplies again. The supply of rations was severely dented, but the rest was intact. Discounting any unforeseen circumstances, the captain decided, they should be able to get by quite handily now that they had a permanent shelter. Satisfied, Janeway gathered up the supplies, re-packed them, and began to strip off her clothes. Seven immediately straightened, regarding her with a renewed interest, and Janeway was forced to smile.

"You are incorrigible," she said, eyeing the blonde woman fondly. "We're both filthy, we reek to high heaven, and I'm absolutely exhausted."

"We can still sleep together, can't we?" Seven asked in such a wistful tone that Janeway laughed.

"We do have to conserve heat," Janeway allowed dryly.

Seven nodded and peeled off her own outfit. They spread out their clothing to air, and crawled into a single sleeping bag together, using the second for more cushioning beneath. Janeway wrapped herself around Seven and relaxed for the first time since they had materialized on the planet.

"Good night, Kathryn," Seven said softly.

Janeway heard the weariness in her voice, and she hugged her partner gently. "Good night darling," she said. "Sleep well."

With the sound of the storm raging impotently outside their door, they feel asleep, curled up in each other's arms.

When Seven awoke, she was alone. Disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, she sat up abruptly, looking around for Kathryn. She could find no trace of her in the cave which was well illuminated by the sunlight pouring in from the outside. Seven noticed that the captain's uniform and pack were gone, and frowning, she got up, padding barefoot to the cave opening. Her eyebrow arched as she gazed down toward the river, and saw the small, undeniably Human figure kneeling on the bank, doing something in the water.

Quickly Seven dressed in her biometric outfit, which felt unnaturally stiff from continued wear, and left the cave, quietly picking her way down the rocky ridge to the meadow below. The long grass swished around her legs as she strode toward the water, and butterflies, colorful against the green, rose before her. The storm had blown over, and the air was remarkable clean, almost sweet in its renewal as the rising sun sparkled off the dew, giving the appearance of bright gems trapped in the grass. As the Borg drew nearer to where the captain was crouching, she was struck by two things immediately.

One, the captain was naked, which was unusual in itself when considering she had clearly taken her uniform with her. That was draped over a nearby bush along with her undergarments, drying in the early morning sun. Two, the large tawny form on the opposite bank which couched menacingly, emerald eyes pinned on the captain who returned the stare unwaveringly, frozen under its scrutiny.

Seven considered this interesting tableau for a few seconds. She noted the phaser was still in its holster on the side of the pack next to the captain's right heel, and that Janeway was inching her hand toward it with agonizing slowness. The way the animal was tensing however, indicated she really didn't have time to acquire it before it sprang. The prominent claws on each foot, the heavy musculature of the animal's body, and the generous fangs displayed beneath the top lip drawn back in a feral snarl told Seven that should it jump on Kathryn, the captain would find herself very much on the wrong end of such an encounter.

Neither had noticed her approach and stealthily, Seven reached down, scooping up a convenient stick. Brandishing it wildly, she rushed forward, shouting at the top of her lungs. Startled by the piercing noise and the much larger form, as well as the stick which thudded soundly into its ribs, directed by Borg-enhanced strength, the animal immediately gave the whole thing up as a bad deal, turned tail, and bounded quickly for the woods.

Janeway was also severely startled by Seven's abrupt appearance, pitching forward into the water with a healthy splash. She came up sputtering and thrashing, finally finding her footing on the pebbled bottom.

"Are you all right, Captain?" Seven asked formally from where she stood on the bank, hands linked behind her back, regarding her partner with a certain amount of amusement which she assiduously hid.

Janeway wiped the water from her eyes, standing waist deep in the clear water as she glared at her partner. "What did you think you were doing?" she said.

Seven blinked. "Driving away a predator," she responded mildly. She tilted her head and prodded delicately with the toe of her boot at the phaser which had never gotten out of its pocket. "What were you doing?"

The captain scowled, then looked down, having the grace to look embarrassed. "Forgetting a good part of my training," she admitted. "I came down to wash out my uniform, and hopefully take a bath. I should have remembered that animals tend to drink at dusk and dawn. I also didn't keep the phaser handy, which was foolish. The main rule to survival on an unknown planet is that we're not predators, we're prey, and we have to think like prey all the time. Forgetting that, even for a minute, almost got me killed." She shook her head with a deep disgust. "That's the first predator we've seen, and it makes me realize we've been getting by with good luck and little sense. If I could, I'd put myself on report."

"Indeed," Seven said mildly. Obviously the captain was being much harder on herself than anything Seven could do or say about the situation at this moment. She took a breath and tried not to be affected by the sight of the very delectable display before her, of the captain's compact body glistening from the water, her hair dark and slicked back around the elegant features. "How is the water?" she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

Janeway looked down ruefully. "Not bad," she admitted. "A little cooler than I'd like but I really wanted to feel clean again."

Seven reached down and scooped up the phaser as well as the tricorder from the pack pockets.

"I shall keep watch while you finish your ... bath," she said.

Janeway hesitated, and then seemed to realize that since she was already in, she might as well finish the job. She reached onto the bank and gathered the accessories she needed, soap and shampoo, all completely biodegradable to keep from interfering with the environment; tiny, precious amounts contained in small packets. As she preceded to scrub herself down, Seven took up a vantage point on a nearby rock, keeping a keen eye on their surroundings, and periodically checking the tricorder to make sure nothing approached her captain, either overland or under the water. She did notice the presence of several simple lifesigns darting about in the river, and identified them as fish. She wondered if they would be suitable for eating.

Finally, Janeway exited the water, rising from the surface like some mythical Human goddess. Seven was hard pressed to keep her eyes away from the spectacle, and on the task at hand. When she finally allowed herself to glance back, the captain had donned her still damp undergarments, tight briefs that came to mid-thigh, and the Starfleet issued bra which was half-shirt, giving her the appearance of an athlete about to work out. After choosing a flat boulder to recline on, Janeway imperiously held out her hand for the equipment.

"Your turn," she said.

Bemused, Seven handed her the phaser and the tricorder before stripping off her outfit. Though the bodysuit had originally boasted the ability to dissolve dirt and dead skin cells while she wore it, keeping her continually clean, she suspected that its immersion had damaged that function somewhat. There was no question that a rather ripe aroma rising from both it and her body. Since that was the case, she immersed the outfit in order to clean it, then hung the garment on the bush alongside the Starfleet uniform. She shivered as she gingerly entered the cool water, not going in too far as she washed quickly but thoroughly before scrambling out. There was a part of her that was still uneasy in the water, even though the current here was quite gentle. Janeway made room for her on the boulder, and they sat together in the morning sun, warming themselves as their outfits dried.

"This feels a lot better," Janeway said, rather lazily as she looked out over the water and the meadows, glancing up at the blue sky above her head, the azure dotted with fluffy white clouds

"Indeed," Seven queried. She was sitting naked on the rock, knees drawn up, arms wrapped around them, acutely aware of the captain's proximity, but knowing that they had to remain alert to their surroundings as that morning had already proved. The sun was very warm on her back, and she felt Janeway urge her around.

"Careful," the captain warned her.  "You don't want to burn.  Stay still."

Immediately, Seven felt her partner begin to spread some cool ointment on her back, and she raised an eyebrow. "Kathryn?"

"It's sun screen, darling," the captain told her.  "You're very fair-skinned and running around naked is not a good thing to be doing.  I wonder if I can adapt my tunic for you as a second outfit?  Otherwise, you're not going to be able to enjoy our vacation at all."

"'Vacation'?" Seven echoed curiously.

"A period of time when one leaves behind their career and goes someplace different to relax," Janeway explained. "Think about it, Annika. No ship to run, no crew to need us, no ongoing mission or duties. Just the two of us with one or two months of no real responsibilities beyond surviving the elements and the wildlife. People actually pay latinum for this sort of thing in the Alpha Quadrant."

Seven regarded her thoughtfully over her shoulder. "You have not been able to do this for some time," she noted quietly. "Have a 'vacation', I mean."

Janeway shook her head, leaning over to kiss Seven's shoulderblade gently. Seven could smell the familiar clean fragrance of the smaller woman, so uniquely Kathryn's own, renewed and fresh.

"Not for five years," the captain admitted, sighing wistfully.

"B'Elanna would say that 'it's an ill wind...'," Seven said. "I am not sure what that means exactly, but I think it would apply here."

"It would," Janeway answered with a smile. She took another deep breath, then finished spreading the sunscreen over Seven before hopping off the rock. "Let's get our clothes and go back to the cave.  After breakfast, we'll spend the rest of the day fishing for tonight's dinner."

While Seven assembled the needed equipment at her instructions, Janeway took a knife and went to some bushes, a growth which resembled Terran alders. She cut a flexible but strong branch about two fingers in diameter, stripped off the leaves and twigs, and brought it back to where Seven was waiting impatiently. She smiled as she secured one end of some fishing line around it, and fixed a hook and weight to the other. Then she overturned a couple of nearby rocks, pouncing on the lifeforms she turned up and impaling the most wormlike one on the hook.

"Bait," she explained as Seven looked confused. "Works better than lures, sometime. Unlike the lures Starfleet provides, these are replaceable should the fish slip the hook."

Seven nodded and accepted the makeshift fishing rod gravely. Janeway found a likely spot near a large tree where a second tree trunk had collapsed, wedging itself into the bank, the greater part of it extending into the water.

"Put it there," Janeway instructed quietly. "In the shadows beneath that tree. This is not like casting Seven. You simply drop the line in and wait for a bite. When you do get it, there'll be no reel to help you pull it out. It's all muscle. Be careful you don't hook into any debris."

"I understand," Seven responded.

She sat down on the log, and proceeded to carry out Janeway's instructions. The captain made herself comfortable next to her on the grassy bank, and set the tricorder to scan whatever the young woman might pull out. It took only a short time before Seven got a bite, and she stood up abruptly, yanking the fish out of the water with great excitement, almost flinging it across the valley in her enthusiasm. Janeway had to bite her lip when she saw it, barely four inches long, and according to the tricorder, more bones than flesh.

"It's no good, darling, I'm sorry," Janeway told her gently. Seven's face fell, looking so woebegone that Janeway was compelled to kiss her comfortingly. "Try again," she urged.

Encouraged, Seven did so, then again and again, each time pulling out something that was either too small or not compatible with Human digestive systems, growing progressively less enthused as time went on, casting dark looks in Janeway's direction as if suspecting the captain was being far too picky. Finally, she managed to hook a decent sized fish that resembled a cross between a rainbow trout and a small-mouthed bass. Janeway promptly rewarded her with another kiss.

"Catch me two more," she ordered before going downstream to clean this one. She was quite aware of Seven's scowl, and she tried not to grin as she knelt by the water, using her knife to gut it. However, she realized she should have known better when she had barely finished cleaning the first before two more were unceremoniously dumped next to her.

"Let's hear it for Borg ingenuity," she complimented, noting that the additions were even bigger and plumper than the original. She looked up to see Seven regarding the blood and guts floating down river with a slightly queasy expression.

"Are we going to eat these?" Seven asked faintly, face pale.

Janeway's lips twitched, but she did not smile. "Darling, we don't have the luxury of throwing them back," she said gently. "Not in this case." She handed the tricorder to Seven. "While I clean these, see what you can find for other suitable organics. But don't go out of earshot."

"I will comply," Seven agreed, seeming glad to get away from the sight of fish offal.

Janeway couldn't blame her. This was not one of her favorite jobs either, and as a Terran in this day and age where replicators and synthesizers abounded, it was no longer considered a particularly moral thing to consume other lifeforms. Eating real meat, red or white, was considered quite the cultural faux pas. However, the Starfleet Survival Course taught its students that, when it came to staying alive without technology, 24th century ideals did not always apply. She and Seven were going to eat these fish because the alternative was to starve, and that was simply not acceptable.

If she happened to enjoy the taste, well ... no one was perfect. Not even Starfleet captains.

As it turned out, they both enjoyed dinner tremendously. Seven had found mushrooms and potato-like tubers growing throughout the valley which, when roasted with the fish, provided a more than respectable bounty. By adding herbs the young woman had discovered growing by the river, the tender white flesh of the fish covered in sautéed mushrooms, the golden skinned vegetables along with fat, purple-skinned berries for dessert made the meal one of the best Janeway had ever tasted.

Fed, clean, and now cozily tucked away with a crackling fire as another storm which had blown up during dinner, raged outside, Janeway decided that she was actually enjoying being marooned on this planet. She lounged back on the bedroll, pleasantly stuffed as Seven perused a padd containing the Starfleet Survival manual which had thoughtfully been tucked away at the bottom of the packs, reading intently by the light of the fire.

Janeway stretched languorously, and regarded Seven through half-closed eyes. The Borg was naked again, her biometric outfit hanging up while she wrapped a sleeping bag around her for warmth. Her hair was down, spilling gloriously about her narrow features like the finest of gold in the firelight, the metallic eyepiece and cheek star glinting mutely in the flickering flames, her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she went over the method for building a canoe from native materials.

The captain felt desire rise intoxicating and delightfully strong within her. She shivered from the intensity of it, allowing it to skitter along her spine like a living thing. Perhaps all this primitive living was heightening her sensuality, her need, and she felt her lips part in a grin that was not so much amused as it was feral.

"Annika," she said softly, huskily, caressing the name with her voice.

Seven stiffened, glancing over her shoulder at the captain with wide eyes, pupils expanding until they seemed to fill the pale blue with dark intent. "Yes, Kathryn," she responded, gaze locked on her partner, caught by a connection so strong it was almost visible.

"Come here," Janeway demanded quietly.

Seven did not comply, however. Instead, she raked the captain with a measuring look, starting at the top of her head and sliding palpably down the entire length of Janeway's body, then just as slowly rising to once more meet Janeway's eyes, reminding her that they were equal within the relationship, both wanting and needing together, both commanding and surrendering to this love that bound them.

Never had Janeway felt that bond more strongly than she did this second, this physical need that reached out from them to ensnare the other with its power.

"Please," she added delicately, feeling the thrill go through her that she was required to ask of this woman as often as she demanded.

Carefully, Seven put down the padd and uncoiled from her seat, her six feet of solid, blond Borgness seeming even bigger in the firelight, the sleeping bag falling away and leaving her golden in the firelight. Janeway caught her breath, every sense, every nerve ending acutely aware, infinitely sensitive as Seven came to her. She was, at once, helpless before the approaching woman, and completely in command of her at the same time. It was confusing, exciting, and without question, almost unbearably arousing.

Seven crawled onto the bedroll, hovering over the captain, crouched predatorily above Janeway much as the animal had that morning, not touching her yet still capturing her in that intent gaze, devouring her heart with her eyes. The lips parted and Janeway watched the pink tip of Seven's tongue come out to moisten the top one slowly, then ran languidly over the full bottom one. Swallowing hard, the captain felt the heat radiating from that body that had yet to touch her.

Moving very slowly, Janeway ran her fingertips up the arms braced on either side of her, sliding gentle over the smooth-skinned muscles that were tensed fully to hold the Borg up. She traced the line of skin and bone, the metallic fibers and starburst implants embedded in the smooth flesh, moving over the narrow shoulders, then down Seven's chest, stroking the smooth skin lightly.

She's so strong, the thought whispered along Janeway's mind. So powerful yet so slender at the same time. Such a contradiction.

Carefully, Seven hooked her fingers under the bottom of the captain's top, tugging upward and Janeway arched to allow the Borg to pull it up over her shoulders and head, off her arms before dropping it gently to the ground beside their bedroll. Then, Seven shifted her weight onto her knees, reaching down to slide her hands beneath the waistband of Janeway's pants, pushing them down until the captain could kick them off, until she lay free and naked beneath her.

"Kiss me," Janeway requested, both order and plea.

Seven smiled, the bright edge of teeth showing brilliant white in the fire's glow.

"I believe I shall," she responded, both assent and benediction.

She leaned down, her lips brushing gently over Janeway's mouth, then covering it completely, moving over her with tender, yet passionate devotion. Slowly, Seven lowered herself until she was completely covering the captain who accepted the weight and warmth of this body with a joy so utter, so dizzying that she thought she would pass out.

How could a body press down on her so lightly, yet feel as if it was overpowering her at the same time? Janeway wondered dazedly. She felt Seven's hands beneath her shoulders, cradling her with strong forearms even as the generous breasts and flat belly rested on her own, soft, yielding, so vulnerable to her.

She slid her arms up under Seven's, around her back, hands spreading wide over the shoulder blades that flexed and moved under her grasp, over silken muscles that rippled beneath her fingertips. Their legs entwined and somehow found places to rest, supporting and drawing each other closer as, at their center, fine swatches of blonde and auburn tangled and tugged, a promise of future touch, of need that was teased, taunted, but not yet fulfilled, pressed moistly against each other.

Janeway could scarcely catch her breath when the kiss was finished, and the lips moved briefly away to taste chin, and cheek, tracing the jaw briefly before returning once more to take command of her mouth, the tongue swirling around hers, the satiny sweetness of Seven filling her. She accepted it eagerly, devouring that mouth that was so wonderfully full, so intoxicating, so completely enticing.

Where did she learn to kiss like this? the captain thought somewhat deliriously. I never taught her this. God, who could? Is this pure natural ability? Let's hear it for Borg ingenuity yet again ... or is it her Human side which grants her such skill?

Janeway supposed now was not the time to try to figure it out.

She let herself sink into the power of that kiss, of the embrace, of the warm, full body pressing down on her. It felt so good to be loved this way, to surrender to this very physical connection she felt with someone who meant so much to her emotionally, to allow this intimacy and closeness fill her, and make her feel completely and totally loved. When Seven finally freed her mouth, trailing gently down her neck to the soft hollow of her throat, Janeway could not help but moan quietly. She felt the bright edge of teeth against her collarbone as Seven smiled, then the demanding lips moved further down until they were tracing over the captain's breasts, finding the soft nipples which throbbed with need, stiff little nubs that Seven nuzzled, the touch of her tongue prodding them, teasing them, swirling around them with gentle pleasure, first one, then the other, alternating back and forth with deliberate desire.

"Annika," Janeway murmured, raking her fingers through the long, blonde hair, arching up to the skilled mouth that was granting her such wonderful pleasure. She whimpered, swallowing hard as she panted, mouth drying from her gasps for air. "Oh, Annika."

Seven gave a few final kisses to the nipples as if to promise that she would be back, and continued her path ever downward. Janeway felt the loving mouth nibble over the underside of her breasts, nuzzling at her belly, tickling her as it brushed over her skin. She jerked suddenly as Seven jabbed her tongue into her navel, and Janeway smiled, eyes closed as her head lolled slowly back and forth on the bedroll, a mint scent of crushed ferns rising to fill her nostrils. She shivered as she felt Seven draw even lower, kissing over the curve of her abdomen to the thatch of hair which the younger woman nuzzled lovingly.

"My darling," Janeway whispered quietly as she spread her legs at Seven's gentle insistence, allowing the Borg to position herself between them, bending her knees to draw them up, opening herself to her partner. "Oh, love...."

She caught her breath as she felt the mouth cover her, the tip of Seven's tongue taking a long, slow swipe from the vulnerable opening, gathering up moisture, then passing up over the sensitive bundle of nerves which sent chills through Janeway, shivers of the most exquisite delight.

"Oh," she breathed, and tightened her grip on the blonde hair as Seven settled in and began to feast upon her with more appetite and interest than the woman ever brought to mere food. "Annika....oh...."

Moments later, she felt Seven's right hand sliding up her leg, brushing light over the inside of her thigh, then worming itself between the avid mouth and body, the fingertips touching Janeway's tender opening, sliding inside ever so slightly. The captain tensed in anticipation, then made herself relax, accepting with joy the long, slender fingers as they entered her, slowly, carefully, caressing and stroking the smooth walls as they went. Janeway made another sound, inarticulate, soft, low, deep in her throat.

For some reason, she could not give full voice to what she was feeling as she had so many times before. Perhaps it was the past few days of primitive living, of her encounter with the predator that morning, that restrained her cries, cautioned her instincts. In any event, where even the threat of embarrassment to her position, the possible compromising of her rank, could not keep her silent in more civilized surroundings, here in the wilds where an inadvertent sound could grant predators the knowledge of vulnerability, Janeway unconsciously bit hard on her lip, and kept as quiet as possible until Seven found that spot inside which drove her over the edge. Even then, she limited herself to a barely audible keening deep in her chest as she spasmed and shuddered, clutching Seven's head to her.

She quivered as Seven continued to taste her though the caress was gentle, light, a need to soothe rather than excite now. Then the younger woman nuzzled her gently in farewell and rose up, moving over Janeway until she was straddling the captain's hips. Janeway opened her eyes to see her lover rising over her like a goddess, looking down at her with both demand and plea in her pale eyes. Janeway ran her hands over top of the smooth thighs, then down into the warm, silky soft inner leg, using her fingers to carefully touch the swollen lips, stroking lightly before slipping between them to the heat and wetness within. Seven took a breath, back arching, her head falling back and she began to undulate gently on her. Janeway played her lovingly, knowing where Seven needed to be touched, slowly guiding the young woman's desire, channeling it into an ever rising spiral. She carefully pushed a finger deep inside, flexing it rhythmically as her thumb found the sensitive little nodule outside, the tiny, slick erection of flesh that made Seven tremble helplessly when she fondled it with a firm touch, before carefully adding a second digit to the warm channel. With her other hand, she reached up and touched the offering of the Borg's full breasts, caressing them lovingly, moving back and forth between both.

The captain was mesmerized by the sight of her partner, by the red flicker of firelight playing over Seven's body, bringing a warm, golden glow to flesh covered with silky skin, at the shimmering cascade of blonde hair that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her arms held over her head, Seven's eyes were closed, her mouth open ... though no sound escaped beyond the quiet whisper, a single word, a name, repeated over and over.

"Kathryn.... Kathryn...."

On the ninth 'Kathryn', Janeway felt it happen, felt her fingers squeezed by velvet slick walls, the regular pulsations which drew her in deeper, and she penetrated as far as she could, amazed at the textures beneath her fingertips, knowing she was touching an area she had never managed before. Seven clenched her fists, lifting up on her knees, holding it for an eternity before her head finally fell forward and she relaxed, sinking back down onto Janeway. She gazed down at the captain with eyes which were dark, the pupils so wide, filling them until there was only a sliver of blue around the black.

Janeway looked up at her, her hands motionless now but still incased by heat, her whole self captured by those warm eyes which she knew seemed so cold to everyone else. Seven stared back at her, their gaze locked, unbreakable by any outside force.

"Annika," Janeway whispered, feeling as if she were about to cry. "You are my heart."

"You are mine," Seven responded softly. "I love you, Kathryn. I will always love you."

Janeway smiled tremulously, and carefully she released Seven as the Borg slowly lowered herself until they were once more lying side by side, sliding her arms around the captain, pulling her to her lanky body as she held her tightly. Janeway took a breath and finally closed her eyes, surrendering to the loving embrace which surrounded her, protected her. Tucking her head neatly into the hollow of Seven's shoulder, buried against the smooth, soft skin which she nuzzled tenderly, the captain felt her partner somehow find the sleeping bag and draw it up around them both.

For long moments, Janeway lay there, fully sated, wonderfully warmed through and through, completely and totally at peace with herself and everything else. She could hear Seven's soft respiration, felt mutely the soft throb of pulse under her cheek. Beyond them, the fire continued to snap and crackle though it was burning low, the soft glow of embers rather than the bright violence of flame. Outside, the wind howled and the rain drummed steadily, thunder rumbling low, combining in a symphony that made things seem even more cozy inside this safe haven they had found.

"Annika, love," Janeway said finally, with quiet pleasure. "We couldn't have planned for a vacation this wonderful."

Seven tightened her grip slightly, a hug of affection and love. "I believe you are correct," she noted softly. "Anticipation is appealing, but I have come to discover that the most enjoyable times are those that happen unexpectedly."

"They are," the captain agreed. She cuddled closer, shifting slightly until she found the comfortable spot, one that had her half-sprawled across Seven's warm, lanky form, cradled by the strong yet slender arms. "Even if it is a vacation at the expense of another shuttle," she added, idly stroking the soft skin of Seven's chest. "I know you must be disappointed in the results, but we'll figure out what exactly happened once we're back, darling. I know you'll be able to fix whatever when wrong and get us home."

Seven was silent which was unusual for her. The young woman loved to talk, both before and after making love, shutting up only when the captain refused to continue the conversation. Vaguely disturbed, Janeway raised up so that she could look down into the serious features. There was an expression in her lover's eyes that Janeway had trouble identifying.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly.

Seven hesitated. Clearly she was having difficulty with this. "I find that I am not disappointed that it did not work at all," she admitted finally. "In some ways, I am glad it failed. I know that you will be in trouble when we return to the Alpha Quadrant. I do not wish for you to be in trouble."

Janeway blinked. "What kind of 'trouble'," she asked.

"With Starfleet Command," Seven said. "B'Elanna told me you could face court martial. That you could be imprisoned."

"Seven, stop right there," Janeway said gently if firmly, curbing her annoyance with the chief engineer with an effort. "Darling, I'm gratified that both you and B'Elanna are so concerned for my well being, but don't be. Whatever decisions I've made, I'm fully prepared to stand by them, and even if those decisions result in a loss of rank or even a full court martial, I'd willingly return to face the music if it meant my crew and my ship were safe. Besides, B'Elanna doesn't necessarily understand how things work in Starfleet, so at best, she's only speculating about what might happen upon our return."

Seven looked obstinate. "I do not wish for you to be hurt, or imprisoned," she said. "Or even demoted. You are a great captain. They have no right to judge you."

"Darling, Starfleet has every right to judge me," Janeway explained quietly, but persuasively. "I accepted their rules and regulations going in. I haven't always been able to follow them out here in the Delta Quadrant, but if my actions have been unacceptable to Starfleet, they have the right to take me to task for it. That's how the command structure works."

"I do not care for the command structure," Seven said stubbornly. "I will not let them harm you. Even if they put you in prison, I will find a way to get you out."

Janeway got a sudden mental image of Seven arranging a jail-break and she took a slow breath.

"My love, please don't worry about this," Janeway said quietly. "Just trust that I know what I'm doing, even when it seems like I don't. Have faith in me and my capabilities. Believe in me when I tell you that things will be all right in the Alpha Quadrant."

Seven didn't bite, much to the captain's dismay. That one would have totally convinced the younger woman a few months earlier.

"You have no control over what Starfleet might do," Seven said coolly. "It is made up of individuals with independent weaknesses. Too much of their judgement depends on random elements which have nothing to do with you."

Janeway frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"If the Dominion War is still active when we return, they will pardon you, not because they should, but because they are in need of your abilities," Seven said. "However, if the Federation is at peace, it is entirely possible that certain admirals will require that you be punished, not because you deserve it necessarily, but to serve as an example to the more independent officers within Starfleet."

Janeway exhaled, considering the implications of this, not so much at what was said, which could be a reasonable supposition of what could very well happen, but the fact that Seven was saying it in the first place. The young woman was displaying a far greater awareness of Federation politics and Starfleet maneuvering than the captain had ever given her credit for knowing. She regarded Seven closely. Not much wonder she no longer falls for platitudes, Janeway thought ruefully.

"You've researched this," she said quietly.

"Yes," Seven said. "I will not let you face it alone."

Janeway smiled gently. "I believe you," she said, greatly touched. She leaned down and kissed Seven gently, barely brushing her lips over the wonderful full mouth. "Will you accept that it's something we can't make decisions about until it happens?" she said softly. "Yet, we still must do everything in our power to return home?"

Seven nodded. "I do wish to return despite the possible repercussions," she said, lowering her eyes. "I do not want you to think that I would ever stop attempting to return to the Alpha Quadrant. It is very important to you, which makes it very important to me."

"Thank you," Janeway said softly.

Seven pulled her closer. "I am concerned about you," she said.

"I know, my love," Janeway replied. "It will be all right, Annika. I truly believe that."

Seven took a breath. "Very well," she said reluctantly. "I will accept your authority in this."

Janeway's lips quirked, but she decided not to comment on that comment. Instead, she nestled her head back on Seven's chest, and closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of her partner to surround her. She felt Seven gently stroke her hair, slowly running her fingers over her scalp in a soothing, pleasant motion. It was incredibly relaxing, and she felt drowsiness steal over her with irresistible force.

"I'm falling asleep," she warned softly.

"Is that bad?" Seven asked softly into her ear.

"No, but I thought you might want to talk more," Janeway responded.

"Go to sleep, Kathryn," Seven said in answer and hugged her tightly. "I will be here when you wake."

Janeway smiled, and stopped resisting as sleep claimed her.

Commander Chakotay and Lt. B'Elanna Torres materialized on the ridge overlooking a lovely little valley. Though the upper atmosphere was agitated in many areas of the planet, at the moment, the skies overhead were clear, and the sun shone brightly on the lush greenery, sparkling off the water of a small river flowing through the grassy banks.

B'Elanna lifted her tricorder and scanned the area. "There," she said, gesturing with the device.

Chakotay nodded and they picked their way off the ridge and down into the meadow, the signals making a steady target for them to trace. Neither comm badge appeared to be moving, and both Voyager crewmembers were apprehensive, though neither let on to the other. There had been no response to their hails, and as soon as Voyager slid into orbit, the first officer and chief engineer were quick to beam down. Tuvok had wanted to come along, but Chakotay had decided that since the Vulcan was third in command, they couldn't afford to have them all down there.

The couple approached a thick density of brush, and stopped suddenly, looking at a set of undergarments and a biometric outfit lying crumpled on the ground, the bright gold of the comm badges showing distinctly. Chakotay exchanged a grave look with B'Elanna, and examined the discarded clothing. The Klingon walked on a few more feet, pushing on through the underbrush, following what appeared to be marks in the dirt.

"There's no sign of violence," he offered to her back.

"No wonder," B'Elanna said, an odd tone to her voice. She gestured at him to join her.

He gathered up the clothes and moved to her side, jaw dropping as he discovered the incredible scene which had been concealed by the high brush. Below them, a deep pool formed by rocks and trees provided the quintessential swimming hole. Chakotay had a brief impression of tanned flesh and auburn hair as Captain Janeway hurtled through the air on the end of a rope attached to a tree that loomed over the water, poised for a timeless instant in mid-air in all her naked glory before plunging into the blue water with a very undignified yell.

B'Elanna tilted her head. "I'm guessing they're all right," she said dryly.

He snorted and strode down to the bank, B'Elanna snickering audibly as she followed him. Seven spotted them first, a wide smile spreading over her face and she reached out for Janeway who had just surfaced. Chakotay had only a few more seconds to see what he presumed was the true Kathryn Janeway, a healthy, tanned woman in the prime of life, filled with love and laughter, totally relaxed and happy before the command mask abruptly slammed down upon the elegant face, wiping away that precious glimpse into that other self.

With remarkable aplomb, she swam over to them, stopping a few feet out. She stood up, though the water was still neck deep, and regarded them calmly. He carefully kept his eyes on her face, and not on the tantalizing hint of body distorted by the rippling effect of the clear water.

"Commander," she greeted formally. "I must admit, I hadn't expected Voyager to find us this quickly. I suppose Murphy's Law demands that you arrive at the time Seven and I take our swimming lessons."

"Oh, is that what you call it?" B'Elanna said, not hiding her amusement. "It looked to me like you were skinny-dipping."

Janeway met the young Klingon's eyes evenly. "We don't call it that," she replied, a bit of a keen edge to her voice.

B'Elanna grinned at her, completely unintimidated, and waved at Seven who was still treading water in the center of the pool. "You're swimming like a fish now, 'Nik," she said. She did not notice the sudden glint that appeared in the captain's eyes.

Seven looked puzzled. "I am unable to breathe under the surface as aquatic animals do," she pointed out with some confusion as she paddled closer until she was next to Janeway. She revealed a little more cleavage than Janeway did when she stood up, but most of her remained under the surface. Chakotay didn't know if he should be disappointed by that ... or relieved.

"It was a compliment, not a scientific observation," B'Elanna retorted. "What happened to you two anyway?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "An anomaly pulled us off course and set up a fatal feedback loop within the system," she said. She tilted her head slightly. "How did you arrive here so quickly? It has only been three weeks. We anticipated a wait of three month's duration."

"That anomaly that took you off course?" Chakotay interrupted. "It pulled you in a circle so although your instruments read that you were one hundred, ninety-seven point nineteen light years away from where you started, you were actually only about a quarter of that."

"You retrieved the probe," Seven said knowingly. "The shuttle was completely destroyed."

"The emergency beacon led us straight here," Chakotay explained. "I admit, we had a few qualms when there was no response to our hails, and we beamed down immediately."

"We didn't hear it," Janeway said, raising her hand to forestall what would be a lengthy debriefing. "My fault. I've become too comfortable on this world during the past two weeks. Speaking of which, I would like to set up a rotating schedule for shore leave, Commander. As you can see, the conditions here are perfect for it."

"The crew will be glad to hear it, Captain," Chakotay noted. "Meanwhile, I'm glad to see everything is all right with both of you."

There was a pause as they all looked at each other. Janeway frowned briefly.

"Commander, if you could...." her voice trailed off as she looked at him and the clothes he was holding in his hands. There was a significant arch to her brow.

He stared blankly at her, then flushed. "Uh, yeah, sorry." He carefully put down the clothes on the bank, then he tapped his comm badge. "Chakotay to Voyager. Situation is fine. One to beam up." Sparkles took him away leaving behind B'Elanna, who regarded the two women with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I want you to know that animal is completely uncontrollable," she said suddenly.

Seven frowned. "Commander Chakotay?" she asked uncertainly.

"I believe she's referring to Jake," Janeway said dryly to her partner. She turned back to B'Elanna. "So it fell upon you to take care of him, Lieutenant?"

"No one else would. He was a handful," B'Elanna noted. "I swear, he's like a Klingon pet. No manners." She grinned impudently at her. "By the way, what the hell did you do for three weeks anyway?"

"It was a vacation," Seven interjected proudly.

"I knew it," B'Elanna exclaimed. "Guess that's one of the perks of being captain." She tilted her head and leered gently at Janeway. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"We had few options in this," Janeway replied evenly. "Accepting it as a vacation seemed a reasonable attitude to take with it." She eyed B'Elanna narrowly for a moment and extended her hand. "It occurs to me that there is another attitude that I need to address with you."

B'Elanna looked baffled. "Really, what?" she said, innocently accepting the captain's grasp.

"The matter of how you involve yourself in my personal relationship," Janeway said. "That is unacceptable. As has been your presumption towards me lately." To B'Elanna's outrage, and Seven's vast amusement, Janeway suddenly yanked the Klingon engineer over her head, sending her flying into the water behind her.

By the time B'Elanna had finally found her footing, cursing a blue Klingon streak the entire time, both Janeway and Seven were out of the water, and on the shore. The captain had redonned her garments and was standing on the bank, hands on her hips, observing her crewman's struggles impassively.

"What the hell did you do that for?" the engineer yelped.

"Because I can," Janeway told her, a deadly quiet to her tone. "It would be good that you remember that ... the next time you're tempted to forget who you're dealing with, puq ngaDHa' Sun. If you wish to grant your Klingon side dominance, then I shall be glad to treat you as one."

She stared down the suddenly subdued B'Elanna, a haughty expression on her face, then favored Seven with a glance before disappearing into the brush.

Seven regarded B'Elanna evenly. "I believe she has been upset with you," she told her.  "For some time."

"I think you're right," B'Elanna said, wide-eyed as she waded to the shore, so stunned she forgot to be angry. "I guess I went too far. Finally." She frowned. "I wonder what that was she called me. I'm going to have to look it up."

Seven offered one of her rare, full smiles. "I'm sure it was appropriate," she said. She offered her hand to help her friend out of the water.

B'Elanna eyed it suspiciously for a second, then accepted the hand, and let Seven haul her out of the river. "I guess I have been pushing things a little," she admitted as she stood dripping on the bank, uniform completely drenched, her comm badge spitting out a few, final feeble sparks. "Maybe even a lot. She had to have been saving it up, however."

"Three weeks is a long time for her to be away from her ship," Seven noted sagely. "I expect we shall see a significantly increased attention to discipline in the immediate future as she resumes command.  I do not believe we shall have the same freedom we once enjoyed, B'Elanna.  Regarding our 'horseplay', I mean."

"Wonderful," B'Elanna muttered. "I guess we started this, didn't we?"

Seven found her clothes and began pulling them on. "We did," she agreed. "Remember, however, Captain Janeway shall always be the one to finish it."

Captain Janeway entered her quarters, and was immediately attacked by their puppy who had grown a few inches, and felt as if he had added about ten more pounds. Caught off guard, her hands full of padds, exhausted from a variety of briefings and assuming her role as captain once more, she lost her footing and crashed inelegantly to the deck. The padds scattered over the carpet, and Janeway bit off a curse as ecstatically, Jake scrambled over her, landing on her chest and licking her face with great glee.

Seven gracefully stepped around them and began to pick up the padds.

"I did warn you about allowing him to develop such a habit," she said mildly.

Janeway wrestled the dog down on the floor and scolded him. "No, Jake," she said, sitting up breathlessly. "Bad dog. Sit."

Jake backed off, but did not sit. Instead, he looked plaintively at the captain, ears flattened to his head, obviously disappointed that his offer to play was rejected. The captain thought he looked remarkably like Seven did when she had been caught doing something she shouldn't, such as pinching someone on the butt. The captain wondered if he had picked it up from the Borg, or if it had been the other way around. In either case, it made her feel vaguely ashamed that she had caused any unhappiness whatsoever, despite the fact a reprimand was completely necessary. He must have sensed her ambivalence because he immediately forgave her rude response, and pounced on her feet, snapping at the trousers that fell over the polished boots and tugging heartily on them.

"Jake, no, bad dog," she said as she pulled her feet out of  his reach.  She stood up, brushing herself off, and frowned at the arched brow her partner was displaying. "All right," she said sourly. "I get the point." She stared at Jake forbiddingly for a moment until he lowered his head, then she snapped her fingers. "Come," she instructed firmly.

Jaws split wide in a puppy grin now that he was back in his mistress's good graces, he scrambled across the room which was hardly the proper response to the captain's command. Seven lowered her head, not stifling her small smile as she deposited the padds on the work console before leaning casually against it while she observed what Janeway intended to do next.

Janeway frowned, attracted Jake's attention, and began working with the animal, making him approach her again and again, repeating the lesson until he had once more grasped the concept of 'come' and 'sit'. Only after he seemed to have it down did she reward him with a bone-shaped organic treat, replicated from stores, hoping the brief lesson was sufficient to keep him from jumping on her the next time she entered her quarters, though she suspected it would take a lot more than that. He was a smart little pup, eager to please, but there was no question the last three weeks of not being trained had been bad for him.

"He has forgotten a great deal," Seven noted, watching as he dragged his treasure into the corner and settled down to gnaw on it.   "He no longer has any discipline."

"He's not the only one," Janeway said with a sigh, finding a seat on the couch. She raked her fingers through her hair and stared with frustration at the dog. "How did I let things go so much? It should never have come down to me having to yank B'Elanna into a pool of water to make her understand she was being impudent."

Seven hesitated, then sat down beside her. "I think that you are being too hard on yourself," she offered. "It was an effective way to deal with her. You did not punish her publicly, and it is she who has been choosing to shade more to her Klingon side. I know she realizes that she had gone too far in her familiarity with you. She also realizes that her punishment was perhaps easier than it could have been, either as a member of Starfleet or as a Klingon soldier. You have not even put it in her file, have you?"

"No, I didn't," Janeway said. "However, there's no question I've been letting things slide a little since..." She trailed off and would not look at Seven.

"Since you thought I was dead," Seven responded mildly. "I noted that you altered your priorities significantly upon my return."

Janeway nodded. "That was when it happened," she agreed. She took a breath. "I didn't want to be like my father, Annika. I didn't want to put my career so far ahead of my personal life that you paid the price like we did with Daddy. I was so grateful for my second chance with you that I swore you would be the most important thing in my life, but I think I went too far in that direction. I shouldn't have been the one making that test flight, and I definitely shouldn't have allowed the ship to lose its captain for three weeks. I was fortunate it hadn't turned out to be the three months we originally envisioned. I have a responsibility to this ship, this crew. I can't continue to shirk it like I have been."

Seven considered that, clearly searching for the proper thing to say. "You enjoyed your 'vacation'," she reminded her. "I do not believe anything was harmed by it, not the crew or the ship, and especially not you. I believe you 'needed' that time to relax."

"Maybe," the captain said uncertainly. "Do you remember how I told you that part of the reason I didn't want anyone to know about this slipstream project was because it might allow them to become sloppy?"

"I do," Seven said.

"Well, I think I'm the one who became sloppy," Janeway admitted. "It was almost as if, with the Alpha Quadrant within reach, I let myself lose some of my discipline, my willingness to sacrifice my own needs for that of the ship. I have to fix that, Annika."

Seven nodded, thinking about it. "Perhaps you must," she allowed gently. "I realize that you feel that you have gone too far in a personal versus a professional direction, but surely, a happy medium can be found. I cannot believe you wish to lose all the trust and understanding we have gained in our partnership."

Janeway nodded. "You're right, I don't," she said. "Outside of our relationship, however, I have to tighten things up. That includes how I deal with you on a professional level. I may seem harder at times than I need to be, but I don't want you to think that it means I care any less for you."

Seven reached over and took her hand. "You are a great captain," she said quietly. "You will find a way to balance this. I will help you all I can."

Janeway smiled and nodded. "I know you will, love." She regarded her partner thoughtfully. "I'm glad to see that you're becoming more aware of the intricacies of command."

"Since you have become more inclined to ... relax your protocols with me," Seven pointed out. "It seems an equitable exchange.  Our relationship is a series of compromises ... on both our parts."

Janeway was surprised. "You know, I think you're right," she agreed. "Perhaps we should take a longer look at this, list them all, and possibly discover other ways to balance our lives as a couple with our role on the ship."

"Now?" Seven looked disappointed.

"Did you have something else in mind?" Janeway asked with a touch of confusion.

Seven raised a brow. "I have been envisioning a bath in hot water for some time," she said, eyeing Janeway hopefully. "One involving a great deal of bubbles."

Janeway laughed. "I believe that's a very good idea," she said. She leaned into her partner's lanky form. "Do you want to run the bath while I light the candles and make up the bed?"

"Acceptable," Seven allowed and abruptly stood.  She held out her hands and Janeway accepted them warmly.

Arm in arm, they headed for the ensuite.

Epilogue

The small setter paused in his gnawing as he suddenly heard the sound of splashing water. That sounded very much like something he should investigate, and quickly, he scrambled to his feet and galloped for the bathroom. Inside, he was thrilled to discover his people sitting in a large round object that smelled oddly sweet, yet clearly contained water. He barked happily at them until his smaller person suddenly scooped him up, and dropped him into the tub with them, much to his great delight and his larger person's violent protestations.

Jake suspected she would get over it. Though the larger one was very territorial, he respected that, and she was very kind to him, especially when the smaller one was not around. Plus, she provided his food most of the time. He loved her unreservedly as he did the smaller one whom he sensed was the dominant member of the pack, the lead bitch. As for the odd smelling one who had taken care of him recently, he had finally decided that she was also a member of the pack though not a predominant one, mostly harmless, if very loud. He thrashed about in the water gleefully, content that his family was intact, all present, accounted for, and most of all, exactly where they belonged.

Home.

The End

•  This is the 9th in the Just Between series. It was written and posted during the first part of November, 1998, occurring after the events which took place in Night and Drone.

• This one is dedicated to Susan Mullarky who ventured out one weekend into the wilds of Nova Scotia and helped me hammer this puppy out, and of course, to all my beta readers.

Just Between Memories
G. L. Dartt

Seven of Nine rushed through the corridors of the Federation starship Voyager, her long strides carrying her to sickbay with a haste borne of apprehension and outright fear. The expression on her narrow blonde features caused those crewmembers in her path to hastily step aside, and  look after her with combination of astonishment and anxiousness, baffled as to what would propel the woman, normally so cool and contained, on such a heedless sprint through the ship.

Seven was brought up short, just inside the doors of Voyager's medical bay, dismayed at what she saw, even though she had prior warning. The call had come down to her in the astrometrics lab, the first officer, Commander Chakotay, informing her that there had been an accident on the bridge, that the captain had been injured in some sort of explosion. Seven was on her way to sickbay before he had even finished speaking.

Her eyes locked on the red and black clad form lying so still on the bio-bed, the Doctor working over her with a tight, grim expression. He was assisted by Sek, a small, slender woman with fair skin and light hair and eyes. Seven was unaware of the small sound she made in her throat then, feeling an odd sort of dizziness go through her. She lunged toward the bed, and was intercepted by the solid bulk of Chakotay who caught and held her arms gently.

"Seven," he said calmly but firmly. "Let the Doctor work."

She resisted briefly, then ceased in her attempt to get by him, her dismayed gaze never leaving that pale face framed by a multitude of equipment. "What happened?" she asked, voice cracking.

"She was working on the bridge science station," he explained. A tall, broad-shouldered bear of a man, his handsome features were compassionate as he held onto her. "There was a system feedback which made the panel explode. She took the brunt of it. B'Elanna's on the bridge determining the cause right now."

Seven felt her heart catch, watching as the Doctor worked intently on the captain. Seven knew both he and Sek would be doing everything they were capable of. Since both beings were actually Emergency Medical Holograms, she knew that their programming had instant access to the ship's entire medical database. She was relieved by that. When it came to efficiency, she much preferred these technical beings working on her partner rather than a fallible humanoid. There would be no hesitation, no emotional overtones that might delay treatment.

Chakotay seemed to sense that Seven was under control again, and he released her, his dark eyes focussed on her face. "Seven, the Doctor is doing all he can," he said quietly.

Disturbed by the tone in his voice, she looked at him. His face was very grave.

"No," she said weakly, feeling her knees turn to water.

"It's a possibility," he said. Perhaps with anyone else, he would have approached the issue more cautiously, sparing them the brutal truth. With Seven, however, he understood that she both expected and required clear data, a concise summing up of the situation. She would not appreciate being treated as a mere Human with delicate sensibilities. "The head injury is very severe."

She took a breath and forced herself to straighten, refocusing her attention on the Doctor.  He made a few final adjustments to the equipment, and left Sek to monitor the data from the screens displaying the captain's bio-readings. As he walked over to the two crewmembers, his face was carefully neutral, and Seven paled as she studied those features closely, trying to find a clue to indicate how bad this was.

"Commander," he said calmly. "Seven. The captain is stabilized for the moment."

"What does that mean?" the Borg demanded before Chakotay could.

"It means that she's not getting any worse, and that we can operate as soon as Sek finishes prepping her," he said. "Her neural pathways have been severely damaged, and it will require some innovative treatment on my part to repair them." He hesitated, regarding each of them seriously. Activated for the past five years on a continual basis since the death of the original ship's Chief Medical Officer, the Doctor had achieved a sort of sentience, including developing an empathy for his patients ... and the patient's loved ones. "As of now, it's logical to expect that there will be some permanent repercussion."

"In what way?" Chakotay said.

"A certain loss of motor control, memory loss, perhaps even brain damage," he replied. "I'll know more after I operate."

Seven wondered if this was shock. She seemed unnaturally detached from herself, as if her head had somehow parted from her body. A loss of motor control? That slender, lithe body which was so active, so dynamic? Memory loss? Brain damage? That fine, clear intellect altered irreparably, unable to reason and think and understand? She linked her hands behind her back, clenching them so hard, she could feel the Borg mesh cut into the flesh.

"Will she live?" she asked, amazed that her voice was so even, without any inflection at all.

The Doctor dipped his head. "I will do everything I can," he said. "It was the brain pathways that suffered the most. I'll know more once I've begun to operate."

Seven looked over his shoulder then, realizing that Sek was cutting the uniform from Janeway, covering her up with a sheet. She was aware of Chakotay who was also gazing at the biobed, and she wondered if he noticed how small the captain seemed at this moment, how very vulnerable she looked. Seven was suddenly angry, resenting the fact that he presumed to care about Kathryn, but she controlled it almost immediately as she recognized the emotion as being completely irrational, rising from her fear.

"This will take some time," the Doctor told them both. "There's nothing you can do here."

"I will wait," Seven said coldly, her expression threatening dire consequences if anyone tried to move her.

Chakotay eyed her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded. "I'll log you off duty," he said. "Someone will need to cover astrometrics. In the meantime, I need to get back to the bridge." He looked at the doctor. "Contact me the second you have more," he ordered.

"Understood," the Doctor said, and Chakotay took his leave.

The Doctor looked at Seven. "You can stay in my office," he offered. "There won't be much to see, and I'd prefer you remain outside the operating theater."

"I will comply," she said.

She made her way into the small office, sitting down on the chair covered with the Starfleet blue fabric as she gazed through the huge transparency which opened out to sickbay, observing closely while the Doctor returned to the biobed after altering his uniform to surgical whites.  The sterilizing force field he set up surrounding the biobed sparkled as he and Sek walked in and out of it at will, and Seven's eyes kept being drawn to the fragile form on the bed.  Thoughts and emotions swirled in the Borg's head, making it hard for her to think clearly. Memories of the past two years crowded her mind, flashes of the various experiences she had undergone which had brought her to this point in time.

Her name had been Annika Hansen, all those years ago, before she had been assimilated by the Borg Collective. Raised by parents who were unorthodox scientists studying the Borg, their ship, the Raven, had been drawn deep into the Delta Quadrant, carried along by the Borg cube where they had been observing their subjects up close.  Too close. Seven had just turned six when she and her parents were assimilated, and for the next eighteen years, she had known only the Collective, its hive mind controlling and directing her every act, her every thought.

Then, she had appeared.

Captain Kathryn Janeway, all fire and iron will, negotiating with the Borg for free passage across their space in return for aiding them in defeating their enemy, Species 8472. Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to the Unimatrix 01, was assigned as the Human female's liaison, working with her as an intermediary to construct weapons powered by the nanoprobes altered by Janeway's crew. The circumstances which drove Species 8472 back into fluidic space as well as the sudden, mental evolution of the Ocampa, Kes, left Voyager 10,000 light years closer to the Alpha Quadrant, and Seven severed from the Collective.  Removed from everything she knew and understood, Seven was forced to adapt to this new life, this new ship, this new group of individuals, including the captain who had made the decision to take her along.

Originally she had hated Janeway for giving the order which cut her off from the Borg, despised the captain's smallness, her individuality, infuriated by the woman who refused to let her go no matter how she fought. Seven's implants had to be removed as her lost Humanity reasserted itself, and she had no choice but to eventually become a member of Voyager's crew. As time went by, however, she grew to know the small redhead who emanated such tremendous presence, and her feelings toward Janeway gradually changed, becoming less antagonistic, and more accepting. Seven could not pinpoint when it was that those feelings progressed from acceptance to attraction, but they continued to evolve irrevocably into desire, and finally love. She only knew that Kathryn Janeway had somehow ended up returning that love; something for which she was profoundly grateful.

The two had embarked on a passionate, loving and mutually rewarding relationship. Both were highly intelligent, and very strong willed, yet somehow they complimented each other, settling into a comfortable domestic bliss which, at first glance, seemed out of character for both women. Their life together had become a constant that they cherished dearly in this life of perilous journeying through the Delta Quadrant.

Now, with one cruel stroke of fate, it could all end.

Seven felt her temples throb, tendrils of pain feathering through her forehead, and knew it was from the tension. She did not understand prayer, did not follow any religious or philosophical beliefs about a supreme creator, but she still found herself going around and around with one thought, a mental plea of anguish to whomever would listen.

Please, let her be all right. Please, let her live. I cannot exist without her.

Hours passed, and she remained where she was, infinitely patient, eyes staring straight ahead, sitting precisely erect in the chair, hands folded primly on her lap. When the doctor finally came in, she blinked and looked up at him expectantly.

"Chakotay is on his way down," he said. putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'd prefer to wait until he arrives to go into the details, but I want to assure you, she will be fine physically."

Seven closed her eyes, the only outward indication of the relief that flooded her body, so strong that she thought she might pass out. She waited until Chakotay arrived, then frowned at the Doctor, needing to know what would happen now.

"There is permanent damage," the hologram said gravely. "I can't tell exactly which particular pathways have been destroyed, but there is no question that her memory has been affected."

Seven felt her heart thud irregularly in her chest as Chakotay let out his breath with a huff, a stricken look on his face. "You mean, she won't remember who she is?" he asked.

"Possibly," the Doctor said. "Or it may mean that only specific memories are available to be accessed. We won't know until she wakes up, and that won't be until tomorrow." He put a comforting hand on Seven's shoulder. "It would be best if you went back to your quarters."

"No," she said flatly. "I will stay with her."

"Seven," Chakotay reminded her gently. "Jake will need his dinner. You should eat something as well."

She stared at him blankly for a moment, honestly not knowing what he was talking about, then remembered the Irish Setter puppy she and the captain had acquired a few months earlier during a mission to an alternate reality. Despite the fact the dog had been meant for Janeway, given to her by her counterpart in that universe, it had fallen to Seven to be the animal's primary caretaker. It was a responsibility she could not shirk, and she lowered her head in acceptance.

"I will be back as soon as I have cared for him," she promised.

She exited sickbay, quickly making her way to her quarters. She was barely inside before the small animal plunged across the room with eager enthusiasm, skidding to a reckless stop at her feet. With no one to see, she scooped him up immediately, hugging him gently as she buried her face in his warm, red coat.

"Jake, Kathryn is badly hurt," she told him with a quaver in her voice. "I do not know what to do."

He whimpered a little, nuzzling her chin with his cool nose as if sensing her dismay, then licked her face firmly, comfortingly. She knew she was ascribing sentient characteristics to the puppy, but she still felt marginally better now that she was holding him. She cuddled him for a while, scratching his ears and allowing him to snuggle against her chest before finally putting him down on the deck. She was pleased to see that there were no new damp patches on the carpeting, and she hoped this meant he had finally learned how to utilize the special device she had created for him. She knew Kathryn would be pleased as well, and she felt sudden tears stinging the back of her eyes.

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, and went over to her work area where she carefully measured out Jake's food, equal parts of dry and moist nutritional supplements which she placed in a big blue bowl which had the name 'JAKE' imprinted upon it in big silver letters. Janeway had utilized her precious equipment rations to replicate it, which had baffled Seven who knew that not only could Jake not read his name, he simply would not care if she dumped the food on the deck without any dish at all. When she pointed that out to the captain, however, Janeway had merely laughed and explained that she wanted Jake to know which dish was his in the event they acquired more dogs.  That thought had given Seven such pause that she didn't pursue the discussion any further.

She placed the bowl in the corner next to the large puppy bed, along with another dish containing clean, fresh water. Jake immediately raced over, and pounced on the meal as if he were starving, bolting his food so quickly that she had barely straightened before he had polished the dish clean, and was looking hopefully at her for more. Since she knew that was precisely the amount required for a dog his size, shape and breed, he was always disappointed, but he never stopped giving her the look as if by sheer persistence, she would one day surrender and give him more.

She was not hungry herself, but she knew she had to eat and she went over to the replicator. Since the captain was not here to share her dinner, she programmed the simple liquid supplement that had been the original organic food she had been required to ingest when first adapting to her humanity. She took it over to the couch, sat down, and began to drink it without enthusiasm.

Jake trotted over to her and put his paws on her knee, his jaws full of a rubber ball which he dropped onto her lap, trailing drool over the brown mesh outfit. She regarded it distastefully for a moment, then realized that he still required exercise even though Kathryn was not there to provide it. She picked up the slimy ball gingerly between her thumb and forefinger, and tossed it across the room. He tore after it eagerly, grabbing it up, shaking his head with a tiny growl before trotting proudly back to her where he repeated his previous action. She continued this until he indicated he was no longer interested, flopping down at her feet and ignoring her final toss, resting his head across her boots. She sighed, staring into the dim illumination of the room, trying to finish her supplement. When she had finally managed to swallow the last drop, she stood up, deposited the mug into the recycler and frowned at Jake.

"Do not get up on the couch," she instructed in a warning tone.

She left the quarters and returned to sickbay. The hour had grown late, and the lights had been dimmed in the medical center. The Doctor looked up at his desk where he and Sek were working on the data files, but he made no objection as Seven found a chair and placed it beside the biobed containing her partner. The captain's face was still pale, but seemed more peaceful, the sheet covering her to the shoulders which were bare. Seven noticed a small bruise discoloring the hollow of the captain's collar bone and, after checking to make sure she was unobserved, leaned down and gently brushed over it with her lips. She did not honestly believe this action had any healing properties, but she needed to make the attempt just in case.

She took the long fingered hand resting limply on the bed, and held it tenderly between her own, warming it as she stared into the still, high-boned features of the captain. It was hours before there was any change in that elegant face, only the steady beep of the machines, and the faint whisper of respiration keeping Seven company on her silent vigil.

Finally, Kathryn's eyes fluttered open, the blue-grey eyes unfocused momentarily before they cleared to look directly at Seven. There was a long pause as they searched her face.

"Who," Janeway rasped in utter confusion, "the hell are you?"

Captain Kathryn Janeway blinked foggily at the Doctor who had pushed the strange woman aside and frowned. "Doctor, what happened?" she demanded, wincing as she felt the pain feather from her temples.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he replied in a noncommittal tone, answering her question with another. He peered into her eyes with an instrument, then checked the other equipment which seemed to be keeping her head immobile, before finally removing most of it.

As he took away the devices framing her head, she searched her mind, trying to remember what had happened to send her to sickbay. It was hard to think, her thoughts jumbled and unclear, but that could be expected if she had been struck in the head. Clearly, there was some sort of injury that was making things confused. She forced herself to calm down, allowing the analytical part of her brain to retrace her most recent memories.

There had been a shuttle crash. She had seemed to die several times as an entity impersonating the spirit of her father attempted to steal her essence. It had been a trying experience, and she had been relieved to spend a few hours with Chakotay in the holodeck. The moonlight sail on Lake George to celebrate the successful finish to the mission was the last thing she remembered. Perhaps she had drank a little too much of the wine he had produced but still, it wouldn't have been enough to make her clumsy, nor should it have caused a blackout. Perhaps she just wasn't as recovered from her ordeal as she had thought.

"Chakotay and I were on an away mission when the Sacajuea crashed, and an alien matrix attempted to take over my soul," she said slowly. "However, I thought you had given me a clean bill of health for that."

She couldn't read his expression. "I did," he allowed. "Can you tell me the Stardate, Captain?"

"50519," she responded readily.

He made a few adjustments to the tricorder a woman handed him, and Janeway felt a real qualm as she realized she did not recognize her any more than she had the other woman, the tall, slender blonde who had been at her bedside when she woke up. That young woman who sported the oddest metallic accessories on her face, was now standing a few feet away, an expression of utter devastation in her pale eyes. Janeway wondered why and for an instant, she had an urge to reach out and comfort her somehow.

The door to sickbay hissed open and she was relieved to see her first officer enter, the familiar tattoo over his left eye crinkling as he smiled at her.

"Captain," he said, with evident pleasure. "You're all right."

"I think so," she replied, smiling warmly at him. For a moment, she had felt very out of place but the sight of Chakotay, his steady, dark eyes and solid manner comforted her, reminded her who and where she was. "Though the Doctor seems less certain."

Chakotay glanced at him curiously and the Doctor frowned. "She believes it is 50519," he said shortly.

Chakotay started, then frowned, looking at her. She started to feel uneasy again, which caused a flare of anger to spark within. Making an effort, she curbed her annoyance, and regarded her first officer evenly. "What's wrong here?" she demanded, her voice laced with command.

"There was an accident, Captain," Chakotay said gently. "You've been unconscious."

"The ship?" she said, half sitting. The Doctor and the fair-haired woman pressed her back down onto the bed.

"The ship is fine," Chakotay said hastily. "B'Elanna is going over her findings even as we speak."

"I'll want a full report on my desk by the end of the day," she said, rising again.

"Captain, please, lay back," the woman insisted, hands gentle on the captain's shoulders.

Startled, Janeway looked at her. That had been Kes's voice, and now that she was looking closer, the woman's features were similiar, but aged, and the ears were Human, not Ocampan. "Kes?" she said hesitantly. Her face hardened abruptly and she glared at the men. "What's going on here?"

"Captain, you've experienced a loss of memory," the Doctor said gently. "Sek?" He looked significantly at the woman who nodded, and went over to the tall blonde, urging her outside. At first, the statuesque woman resisted, then a few words in her ear, too low for Janeway to hear, apparently convinced her to go with Sek. Janeway was disturbed by the look the young woman gave her over her shoulder as she left sickbay, however.

"Are those new crewmembers?" she said, having noted that both were wearing comm badges though neither had been in uniform. She refocused her attention on the Doctor. "Are they part of what I forgotten?"

"It seems so," he admitted.

"How much have I lost?"

The Doctor hesitated, then shook his head. "I'm not sure yet," he said, and for some reason, she thought he was evading her question, but decided his program would not allow that sort of thing. "I need to run some more tests to determine which memories have been rendered inaccessible."

"I see," she said, not allowing the fear that had suddenly shot through her to appear in her face. "Is this permanent?"

"Again," the Doctor said. "I'm not sure. Hopefully the test results will be able to determine if the neural sequencers can regenerate. Also, in some cases, spontaneous generation of alternate brain pathways have occurred, allowing the mind to access the memories once more."

"What happens if neither of those possibilities occur?" Janeway asked sharply.

"Then, those memories will be gone permanently," the Doctor said plainly. "We'll take it from there."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I appreciate your candor, Doctor," she said. She looked at Chakotay and forced a small smile. "I guess the ship is yours for the next few days."

"I'll take good care of her," he promised, moving closer to place his hand warmly on her shoulder. "Voyager will be waiting for you when you're up and around again."

Suddenly exhausted, she relaxed against the biobed. "I'm tired," she said. "Is that normal?"

"It is symptomatic of your condition," the Doctor assured. "Sleep will help you recover from your other injuries, and I can run the tests after you wake. Don't try to fight it, Captain. Let your body heal."

She did not necessarily like it, but the fact was, she did feel as if she had been ejected from a plasma vent. She wondered briefly about the specifics of the accident which had hurt her, then realized that her crew was probably taking care of it. Until Janeway had recovered a little more, she could do little to help them. She had to believe that Voyager was in good hands. Wearily, she felt her eyes slip shut, and gratefully, she slipped into the welcoming darkness.

Seven of Nine paced animatedly back and forth in the small conference room where Sek had taken her. Kathryn was clearly confused, and Seven understood that her presence was not helping, but the thought did not make her feel any better. Her heart spasmed painfully as she remembered the blue-grey eyes which had looked at her without recognition, without the caring and love she had come to know and expect.

Kathryn does not know who I am, she thought wretchedly. She believes it is Stardate 50519 which was almost three years ago. Could she have forgotten everything since that time, including our love? How can that be?

Sek sat quietly in a chair, though as a hologram, she did not need to rest. She reached out a hand and interrupted Seven's pacing. "Seven, the Doctor will be able to help her," she said soothingly.

"Will he help her remember me?" Seven responded uncertainly.

"He will do what's best for his patient," Sek responded, rather noncommittedly.

Seven shook off the hand and resumed her pacing. The Doctor was far from fallible even for a technical being, especially when it came to emotional issues. This was purely an emotional issue as far as she was concerned. She looked up as the door opened, and Chakotay entered.

"How is she?" she asked anxiously.

"She's okay, Seven," he said, but couldn't meet her eyes. "Physically. The Doctor seemed to think that bringing her up to date slowly would be the best approach. In the meantime, he wants both you and Sek to stay away, at least until he knows how bad this is."

Seven groped for a chair, sat down heavily. "I am not allowed to see her?" she said in a tiny voice.

"I'm sorry, Seven," he said compassionately. "It's just for the time being. Once we know exactly how much memory loss she has, and how quickly she can adapt to learning the events of the past few years, we can all decide together the best way to tell her ... about you."

Seven didn't like it, but if it were for Kathryn's well being ... she swallowed and nodded. "I will comply," she said unhappily.

"Thank you," he said soberly, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I know this is hard on you. Both B'Elanna and I are available if you need to talk. You know that."

"I do," she allowed, managing a bit of gratitude which she injected into her voice. She looked around uncertainly. "I suppose I must go and care for Jake. It is time for his breakfast."

"That's a good idea," he said. "And Seven?" She met his eyes bleakly. "Work helps," he added quietly. "It'll give you something else to concentrate on."

"I understand," she said faintly. "I will report to the astrometrics lab later this morning."

She stood up, feeling lost as she left the conference room, heading for her quarters, though without Kathryn, it was the absolute last place she wanted to be.

Captain Janeway stood in the middle of sickbay, and frowned mightily at the Doctor, arms across her chest, ignoring the fact that she was clad only in a sheet. Her head was lowered so that her eyes glared darkly from beneath her brow, and one bare foot tapped impatiently.

"I won't ask you again, Doctor," she said, her voice at its lowest, most dangerous level. "Find me a uniform."

"Captain, please," he said with an annoyed expression of his own. "You are simply not ready to be released."

"Physically, I'm perfectly fine," she retorted. "You said that yourself. As for the rest, I understand perfectly that I've lost the past three years, but the mission logs are doing a fine job at catching me up on what I'm missing. I can read those in my ready room as easily as I can here. Besides, it is past time for me to retake command of my ship. I haven't forgotten how to be a captain, after all."

"I need to keep you here for observation," he protested. "There are things in the logs which could be ... upsetting."

"I'm sure there are," Janeway said without any expression at all. "However, I assure you, Doctor, if the thought that I had actually made an alliance with the Borg ... with the Federation's greatest enemy ... and that one of them now serve as my astrometrics officer, didn't unduly upset me, then I truly doubt that there is much that would."

"Captain, you are only catching up on the history of the past three years," he said, and now there was a touch of desperation in his voice. "The facts of the events only. You are not being exposed to the emotional repercussions regarding everything that happened."

"I am perfectly capable of handling my own emotions, Doctor," she said firmly. She took a deep breath and gentled her voice, looking at him with understanding. "I know that I may never really remember the past three years as anything more than something I've read from a mission log. I can deal with that possibility, but I can't do it while I'm going stir crazy in sickbay. Get me my uniform. Let me get back to work. Please."

The Doctor glared at her, and Janeway returned it evenly, not budging an inch. She realized that his program had progressed somewhat in the past three years, that he was more forceful, more dynamic, more ... sentient, than she remembered, but that didn't mean she was going to start backing down. After all, she was still the captain.

He abruptly let out his breath with a gigantic sigh ... unnecessary since he didn't need to breathe ... as he finally gave in. With an ungracious frown, he keyed the controls of the nearby replicator, materializing a red and black uniform. The pips and comm badge he retrieved from a compartment where they had been placed, probably just after her accident. He handed it all to her, and nodded at his office.

"You can darken the window," he said sourly.

"I remember," she said with some asperity, and triumphantly strode into the room. She programmed the transparency to one way only, allowing her to look out though no one could look in, and quickly divested herself of the sheet.  She pulled on her uniform, watching narrowly as the Doctor keyed his comm badge and talked at length to someone, though she was unable to guess what he might be saying.

Warning Chakotay I'm on the loose, probably, she thought wickedly. Well, she wasn't heading for the bridge just yet, anyway.

Though she refused to show it, the past few days had left her shaken, as if the very ground beneath her feet had suddenly  opened. She needed to return to the privacy of her quarters, spend a little time going over her personal logs regarding everything she couldn't remember, sure that her own words about how she had felt during each mission would trigger something. Any emotional repercussions that might occur were something that she was sure she could handle quite nicely on her own, without anyone having to observe her.

She breezed out of the room, surprising the Doctor who was unprepared for how quickly she had dressed. Honestly, she thought, he should know that the one thing a captain becomes good at is how to get into uniform fast. It was a skill much needed when one could be called to the bridge at any time, including such inopportune moments like taking a bath.

That was the one thing she was looking forward to. A nice, long, hot bubble bath in her own tub, which was her absolute favorite way to unwind after a hard day. According to her calculations, this bath was going to handle three years of hard days. She swept past the Doctor before he could object, and exited sickbay, heading for her quarters. It would be good to be in familiar surroundings, she thought. Stuck in a biobed was hardly the way to get her life back under control.

The first thing she saw when she walked into her quarters was a red ball of hair rocketing toward her with loud yips of joy. She automatically reached down and caught it before realizing what it actually was, looking down into the panting puppy face of an Irish Setter with astonishment.

"Where did you come from?" she asked in pleased surprise, stroking the tiny head gently. Maybe the doctor had a point, she allowed dryly. There were a few things the mission logs don't address, and since she had yet to access the last group immediately preceding her accident, there had been no warning that pets were now allowed on Voyager.

She checked his collar, reading the name 'Jake' etched across the little gold tag, which also sported the Starfleet insignia. She thought about it, decided that was exactly the sort of thing she would name a dog and grinned at him. "Well," she said. "It seems you know me, even if I'm not too sure about you."

She looked up, and for the first time, realized that nothing was familiar in her quarters after all. There were some identifiable pieces of furniture, her couch, some chairs, a few decorative touches here and there, but the rest of her living space had been changed completely. The living area now bordered the six foot long windows lining the hull, and she raised an eyebrow as she regarded the cordoned off area in front of the replicator, an 'L' shaped counter making where the table had once stood  into a small food preparation area.  The dining table under the window facing her was much smaller than the one she remembered, round instead of rectangular.

Since when do my quarters boast a kitchen? she thought fretfully. When did any ship's quarters include a kitchen?

Jake squirmed in her arms, and reluctantly she put him down, the small pup loping off towards the bedroom. She frowned as she made a circuit around the room, her eye caught by two tiny statues adorning one of the ledges next to the couch, and she regarded them uneasily. They were unquestionably the ugliest things she had ever seen, and it occurred to her that her taste in artwork had plummeted somewhat in the last few years.

Then she noticed the two workstations sitting back to back on the other side of the room where once only a single desk had been, and with a jolt, she realized that these quarters had been altered to provide for two people. The thought made her weak in the knees, and she stared uncertainly at the area. There were no personal touches to the other desk to indicate who it belonged to, though she easily recognized her own. The console sported a holder for a coffee mug, and a small ornament from a planet she had been on during her very first tour of duty as a Starfleet officer sat on the glass top where it always had. However, the image of Mark which used to be there was quite noticeable in its absence.

She blanched as a stray thought crossed her mind. Ohmigod, shared quarters? A kitchen? Surely that can't mean ... am I now living with ... Neelix? She immediately stifled that as being entirely too weird.

In the far corner, next to the work station, she saw what was clearly the puppy's area. There was a big doggy bed set against the hull, just outside the door leading into the bedroom. A few toys were scattered about, and an empty food dish lay on its side. Another dish, half full of water, was surrounded by a wet patch where it had spilled, while a few feet away, tucked discreetly behind a small group of hedgelike plants, she saw a flat, rectangular device. It measured approximately a half meter wide and a meter long, with a lip running along the perimeter. She studied it with her best scientific and engineering judgment, and still had no clue what it was for.

Jake returned from whatever he had been up to in the bedroom, and brushed through the plants, lumbering up onto the device. He darted a glance at her, the half-embarrassed look dogs get when they perform certain bodily functions, and proceeded to perform one. Startled, Janeway watched as he turned around, sniffed it, then loped off. Once his weight had cleared the device, it glowed green and dematerialized the waste, leaving no hint that it had ever existed.

How incredibly clever, Janeway noted with amazement. It certainly solved the obvious problem of having a dog on the ship. She wondered who had thought of it.

She drifted over to the kitchenette, curious about an area that she could never conceive herself using. On a shelf behind the counter, there was plate of brownies, covered with a stasis wrap. She hesitated, glanced around covertly, then gingerly took one of the sweets and bit into it. She was astounded to find that it tasted exactly like the ones her mother used to make. She hadn't actually managed to replicate that recipe successfully, had she? Greedily, she ate two more, and then, licking her fingers, she strolled across the living area and peered through the door leading to the bedroom.

She didn't remember the bed being that large, or having that oddly twisted metal rod installed on the headboard. She wondered what it was for and she stood for long moments in the doorway, staring at it blankly as she tried to figure it out.

The outer door to the corridor abruptly hissed open and she whirled, shocked to see the Borg woman enter. She seemed taller than Janeway remembered from that brief glimpse she had caught in sickbay a few days ago, and much more constrained. Her expression was impassive, and she tilted her head slightly as she saw Janeway, linking her hands behind her back. A metallic grey implant framed her left eye, while a small, star shaped device adorned her right cheek where jawbone met ear. Her blonde hair was done up in an austere bun, and her eyes were a chilling ice blue, granting her a severe demeanor. Janeway thought she was one of the more intimidating people she had ever seen, and immediately, a sense of contrariness rose in her.

"Captain," the intruder greeted politely.

Janeway put her hands on her hips, searching her memory for the name. "Seven of Nine, isn't it?" she replied coolly, giving her irritation full rein. She flicked a glance at the door. "Are you in the habit of entering my quarters unannounced?"

The Borg hesitated. "Yes," she replied finally.

Stymied by the answer, Janeway stared at her. "Do you want something?" she asked sharply.

"The Doctor informed me that you had been discharged from sickbay," the Borg replied. Her voice was remarkably without inflection, Janeway noted, as if every word, every syllable, was carefully chosen and thought about before it was uttered.

"And?" Janeway prodded irritably.

"I wished to be present while you familiarized yourself with your quarters," Seven of Nine said.

Janeway, about to ask why, instead took a breath, forcing down her annoyance. Clearly she was missing something here. She watched as Jake barreled up to the woman, but unlike how he had greeted her, the puppy skidded to a stop and sat down in front of Seven of Nine, looking at her intently. The blonde woman gazed at him briefly, then made a small gesture with her hand which he promptly obeyed, racing off as if freed from a leash.

"Is he ... is he your dog?" the captain asked uncertainly.

"He is our dog," Seven of Nine replied.

"'Our' dog?" Janeway raised her chin slightly. "The ship's dog, you mean."

"No, I mean that he is ours, yours and mine," Seven of Nine insisted evenly.

Janeway considered this. So that was what the woman was getting at. "These are also your quarters, correct?" she asked.

The ice blue eyes seemed to warm perceptively. "Did you remember that?" the Borg said, and now there was just the slightest hint of inflection, a tiny excitement.

"No, I guessed it," Janeway said, oddly disappointed when she saw the light go out of those pale eyes. "These quarters are now designed for two people." She felt very nervous suddenly, and she found a seat on the couch to hide the weakness in her knees. "Have we become so crowded that we need to double up on space?"

Seven of Nine was silent for a moment, apparently trying to think of a delicate way to answer that. When she did, her voice was impossibly gentle, a marked contrast to the cool, aloof demeanor. "We share these quarters because we share a personal relationship," she said.

Janeway folded her hands carefully onto her lap. "We're friends," she said slowly, still trying to avoid what was right in front of her. After all, there had only been one bed in the bedroom. One large bed.

Seven of Nine raised her head a little. "We are friends," she agreed. "We are also more than that."

Janeway felt flutters in her stomach. "I see," she said faintly. "That's why the doctor contacted you. Some of the emotional repercussions that the missions logs don't reveal."

"Yes," Seven of Nine agreed. "It was decided that when you reached this stage, I would be the one to help you through these discoveries." Her head dipped and her eyes seemed to grow darker. "I insisted that I be the one to help you through this time," she elaborated.

"Oh," Janeway said weakly. She searched for something to say. "How long have we been ... intimate?"

"Two hundred and three days," Seven of Nine responded promptly.

Janeway spent a few moments processing that as the other woman waited patiently. "Almost a year," the captain said softly, half in disbelief. She looked up at the woman. "I don't remember it."

"I know," Seven of Nine said, and suddenly Janeway could see the anguish in the eyes, hear it flavor ever so slightly the tone of the controlled voice. Not so much the unemotional drone after all, she thought with compassion.

"I'm sorry," the captain said slowly "Believe me, Seven of Nine, if we have been in a relationship, I truly wish I remembered it. Especially since it has been so long that ... " She chose not to finish the thought, unsure as to where she was going with it.

"It is not your fault," the Borg said. She paused, then changed the subject slightly. "My regular designation amongst the crew is 'Seven' rather than Seven of Nine. You also call me that while we are on duty."

A flash of humor shone through the dark morass of uncertainty the captain found herself in. "What do I call you when we're off duty?"

"Annika," Seven replied. "Annika Hansen was my Human designation before I was assimilated. You are the only one who calls me that on a regular basis."

Janeway nodded. "Okay, Annika," she said carefully. "Apparently we have a bit of a problem here. I have yet to access my personal logs, and I really don't have any knowledge or memory about this relationship of ours."

The Borg seemed to deflate slightly, and she moved over to sit in the chair, angling her body to face the captain, posture erect, knees perfectly aligned, hands linked formally on her lap. "I understand," she said quietly. She frowned, apparently trying to choose her words deliberately. "The Doctor believes that it is possible that certain of your memories will return over time. He also believes that if we attempt to continue our life together as if everything were normal, at least for a little while, that it may help trigger something. Of course, I realize that this is uncomfortable for you, and I will help in any way I can. I do not expect that everything will be as it was. You will require space to adapt."

It sounded like a speech, one that had been prepared well ahead of time, and Seven seemed unable to look Janeway directly in the eyes while reciting it. The captain turned it over in her mind, frowning briefly as she considered the implications.

"I see," Janeway said finally in a quiet voice. "You want to continue to live here with me."

Seven nodded. "Yes," she said. The was no plea in her tone, but the captain realized that the woman did not want to be sent away. Yet, Janeway didn't know if she liked this. It seemed too much to absorb at one time.

"If I disagree?" she said, not unkindly. "What will you do if I don't want to share these quarters with you?"

She was sure she saw the woman flinch, then Seven visibly steadied herself, seeming to draw on some hidden core of strength.

"In that event, I shall move out," Seven replied evenly. Her eyes met Janeway's squarely, and her voice softened. "I love you, Kathryn. I will do whatever you require me to."

Janeway hadn't expected that, hadn't anticipated the words stated so plainly, the power of them which impacted like a fist to her abdomen. She studied the other woman closely, as she sought to regain her composure. As she did, she began to see things which had not been apparent on her first perusal, the warmth that seemed to simmer just beneath the surface of those ice-blue eyes, the gentleness of the hand which rested on Jake who had taken the opportunity to lay his head against her leg. The pup clearly adored Seven, and Janeway was a big believer in the instincts of dogs.

As well as her own instincts.

For whatever reason, her fingers were tingling which had always been a definite sign of attraction. It seemed that even if Janeway didn't remember it, her body knew she had shared something very special with this woman.

"All right, you can stay here," Janeway allowed with a bit of a sigh. "You're probably right in saying that the quicker things get back to a 'normal' routine, the sooner my memories, if any, will return."

"Thank you," Seven said, and Janeway got the sense there was a wealth of meaning behind what would otherwise be only a polite utterance.

They looked at each other for a few moments, then Janeway nodded at the dog, deciding it would be the safest topic. "Where did he come from?" she asked.

"A few months ago, you and I were transported to an alternate reality," Seven explained. "There, Voyager had returned to the Alpha Quadrant two years earlier, and your counterpart made the puppy a gift to us upon our return. He is apparently the offspring of a dog named Molly Malone."

"One of Molly's puppies?" she said with delight. "That was nice of me."

"I am unsure of the benevolence of the gesture," Seven said coolly. "Since I am the one who is required to feed and train it. Your duties as captain keep you away from your quarters very often."

Janeway eyed her. "I see," she said quietly. "You resent that."

Seven seemed startled. "No," she replied. She hesitated, then blushed. "Sometimes I make it seem as if I am unhappy to have him as a part of our family group, but that is deceptive on my part. I am sorry."

Janeway blinked, having received a whole lot more information than she had expected, not to mention the sight of Seven blushing which seemed odd for the cool woman. She had to be careful about the questions she asked, the captain thought. For both their sakes.

"I'm sure that I already suspected that," she offered after an awkward pause.

Seven regarded her. "I believe you did," she agreed.

Janeway tried to control the adrenalin rushing through her, wishing that she didn't feel so uneasy. "So, it's about 1800 hours," she offered with forced cheer. "What would I ... would we ... be normally doing at this time?"

Seven brightened. "Your duty shift would be now complete," she replied, and there was a warmth in her tone, faint but very detectable. "As would mine in astrometrics. Normally I arrive here first since you tend to work over, but in recent times you have made a decided effort to return to your quarters in a timely manner."

"All right," Janeway encouraged. "Then what?"

"You have a glass of wine while I prepare dinner," Seven said. "We talk about our day. We eat the food I have prepared. After dinner, you play with Jake while I clean up. We go into the living area, and talk again until it is time for us to retire for the evening. We make love, then you go to sleep. I watch you sleep for approximately fifteen minutes, then I also go to sleep."

Well, I asked, Janeway thought dazedly. "Every night?" she asked dryly.

"The routine varies depending on external circumstances," Seven admitted. "Sometimes there is work requiring our attention and it must be finished. Sometimes we can not leave our posts because there is a crisis. Sometimes we have guests for dinner. Sometimes you play with Jake for most of the evening. Sometimes we argue instead of discussing things rationally. Sometimes we dance. Sometimes we go out for the evening. Sometimes we make love on the couch. Sometimes we..."

"I get the point," Janeway interrupted, holding up her hands in surrender. "There's a lot I have to catch up on. It does sound like a very nice life, however," she added wistfully.

"You have indicated that it is a most satisfying routine," Seven offered gently.

Janeway's lips twitched, then she studied her hands. "You say you prepare dinner," she said. "You program the replicator?"

"Sometimes," Seven said slowly. "Frequently, I prepare dishes from raw materials."

Janeway had suspected that, having seen the kitchenette. "My mother is a Traditionalist," she said quietly. "She also prepared meals from scratch."

Seven started to speak, hesitated as if considering her words, then merely nodded instead. There was more there, Janeway suspected. A lot more, if this woman who seemed so willing to lay all her cards on the table had chosen to check what she had been about to say. Well, Janeway thought tiredly, she supposed she would find out soon enough.

Seven tilted her head. "Would you care for a glass of wine?" she asked.

"I believe I would prefer a whiskey and soda," Janeway said dryly.

About a gallon would do at this point, she thought.

Seven quickly stood up and went over to the replicator, programing in the captain's drink and returning with it to where the woman sat quietly on the couch.

Janeway looked surprised as she took it, gazing up at her searchingly. "Thank you," she said formally.

"I will prepare dinner," Seven told her, not only because it was that time, but because at the moment, she desperately needed something to keep her busy. She could also see that Janeway was becoming progressively uneasy, the confusion growing in her eyes with every discovery.

We have to go slowly, Seven reminded herself. All of this was new to the captain, and the Doctor had told her that Janeway might never remember everything, She had to treat the captain as if she had come forward through time, had never lived the experiences which had led to this moment. For all intents and purposes, that was exactly what had happened.

She keyed in directions for some protein, vegetables and mushrooms, placing them all on her counter after they materialized. She was aware of Janeway observing her closely, but she tried to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if this were just another day. She carefully did not notice when the captain got up and moved over to the counter, perching on a stool that the captain always favored during this time.

Seven concentrated on slicing the protein and vegetables into strips before retrieving her wok from its compartment. She poured a dollop of oil in, and as she waited for it to heat, she sliced the mushrooms. Once the strips of chicken-flavored protein were sizzling in the wok, she quickly prepared Jake's supper, taking it over to his area. She wished he didn't eat so fast, but it seemed to be part of his genetic makeup. She washed her hands before returning to her counter, stirring the protein in the oil, making sure it was cooked thoroughly as she added various spices; ginger, garlic and seasonings.

Janeway had been watching this with the intensity of a scientist observing a specimen in its natural environment, sipping at her drink now and again. "Can I help with anything?" Janeway asked suddenly.

Startled, Seven glanced at her. "You do not like to cook," she said.

Amusement touched the blue-grey eyes. "No, I don't," the captain admitted. "I'm glad some things haven't changed."

Seven took a breath. "It is more efficient if you do not assist," she said gravely.

Janeway's lips twitched. "When I try to help, I'm in the way," she translated. She paused. "I gather we've had this conversation."

"On two occasions," Seven allowed.

Janeway smiled, and took another sip from her glass, seeming to be more relaxed now. Perhaps that was due to the alcoholic content of her drink, Seven allowed to herself. She did not necessarily approve, but she appreciated the medicinal properties of the drug. It was also possible that the routine Seven was imposing, was providing a subconscious relaxation for the captain as her body repeated things it had experienced many times before. The Doctor had told her that the captain's reflexes would retain their imprinting. As an example, he used Velocity. Though Janeway had learned the game after the time her memories stopped, she would probably still be the best player on the ship once the rules were explained to her. The body did not forget in this case.

Seven added the vegetables, then cast a glance at Janeway. "It would be helpful if you would set the table," she suggested gently. "The dishes and utensils are in the recycler under the replicator."

"I can do that," the captain said, seeming relieved to have something to occupy her.

Seven tried to imagine how it would be if she had forgotten her life with Kathryn, what things the captain would do in the attempt to make her remember, but her imagination was simply not that extensive at this level of her development. She would just have to think of everything the Doctor had told her, and try to apply his suggestions whenever possible. The rest of the time, Seven would just have to give the captain time and space to adapt to the situation.

She noticed that Janeway had set the table in the same manner she always had. The table was large enough for four, but Janeway had placed the dishes and utensils in their regular place settings. Additionally, when the captain sat down, it was in the same chair she always used, her back to the wall with the window so she could see the door, with Seven apparently expected to sit across from her. Perfectly normal. Seven had to remember that it was simply more of Janeway's body patterns, not an indication of her memory returning.

She stirred the last of the chicken and vegetables, covered it, then replicated the rice. She carried both large dishes over and placed them on the table before sitting down. She noted that Janeway had immediately served herself, reaching out eagerly for the spoon. More imprinting, the Borg decided.

"This is remarkable," Janeway said with surprise, as she gingerly took a bite. She favored Seven with a look. "I didn't realize cooking was a Borg attribute."

"It is not," Seven replied evenly, though the comment had stung. It was not the captain's fault she no longer knew what was sensitive to her partner, Seven reminded herself. "I learned to cook ... recently. I find it very relaxing and satisfying as a creative endeavor."

Janeway looked thoughtful. "I hadn't looked at it that way," she admitted. She paused. "I found some brownies. Yours?"

"I recreated your mother's recipe," Seven said carefully. "It was very gratifying to me that you felt I succeeded."

"You did," Janeway said. She ate a bit more of her meal. "My mother liked to cook. I never understood why. I never got around to asking." Her voice had saddened at the last.

"Gretchen understood," Seven said, before she could prevent the words.

Janeway looked at her sharply. "Indeed," she said flatly, and Seven understood that the captain had found it presumptuous that this stranger would comment on her mother.

"A few months ago," Seven explained slowly. "A device transported Commander Chakotay, Lt. Torres and myself to the Alpha Quadrant. I met your mother and sister there."

Janeway stared at her. "Why did you come back?" she asked.

"The Alpha Quadrant is not my home," Seven said honestly. "Voyager is. Also, both the Commander and B'Elanna felt uncomfortable with having returned to the Alpha Quadrant while the rest of Voyager's crew could not. We utilized the device to return here before it was completely drained of its transporting capability, and returned with a significant amount of equipment and personal items for the crew." She looked down at her plate, toying with her rice. "Gretchen taught me the basics of cooking while Phoebe taught me how to brew her special blend of coffee. I believe they wished to send something of home back to you, and this was their way of doing it."

There was silence for a long time before Seven dared to raise her eyes to Janeway's. The captain had a stricken expression, one of utter loss, and inadvertently, Seven reached over and touched her hand. Just as quickly, she withdrew it, and Janeway looked down at her plate.

"I am truly sorry to have forgotten that," she said huskily.

Seven searched for something to say. "They also sent logs for you to see," she offered. "You can view them again."

"There are a lot of logs I haven't accessed yet," Janeway replied, after taking a few seconds to compose herself. "Some of the most recent mission logs, all my personal ones ... I'm hoping they will ... trigger something."

"Perhaps they will," Seven said. "One must always have hope."

"What if they don't?" Janeway asked sharply, meeting her eyes challengingly. "What if I never remember the last three years? What if I never remember you?"

Seven met her eyes squarely. "That would be unacceptable," she said, in an utterly determined voice.

Janeway seemed startled, then to Seven's surprise and gratitude, the captain grinned that half-smile, humor curling the corner of her mouth. "I'm starting to think that you never let me get away with much," Janeway said wryly.

Seven considered that. It was a potentially loaded statement, and one she had to handle with care. "You have indicated that part of your attraction to me is a result of me treating you as an individual rather than as a rank," Seven said. "Even in the beginning when I did not like you very much."

"So it wasn't love at first sight on your part?" Janeway said sardonically.

Seven flinched at the tone but she tried not to attach too much importance to it. "No," she said quietly. "It was not."

Janeway seemed to feel she had gone as far as she dared on this topic, and she nodded briefly, concentrating on her meal once again. Seven followed her lead, and the rest of their dinner was consumed in silence. As Seven stood up to clear the dishes, she noticed that Janeway had developed the lost expression in her eyes once again.

"Jake requires exercise," Seven reminded her gently. "That is part of your contribution to his care."

"Certainly," Janeway said, standing up hastily.

Seven kept her back to the room as she worked, and for a time, everything was exactly as it should be. She could hear Janeway talking with the dog, hear his happy yips, hear the thumps and thuds as they romped in the living area. If she stopped thinking about the situation, she could believe, just for these precious moments, that everything was normal. She tidied her area, then poured wine for the captain and herself. By that time, Janeway was seated on the couch, and Jake was stretched out happily on his back at her feet as she rubbed his tummy, his jaws split in an ecstatic puppy grin.

"Thank you," Janeway said as she accepted the glass Seven offered her.

Seven hesitated, then took a seat in the chair set at right angles to the couch. She longed to be sitting next to Kathryn as she normally would be, her arm wrapped warmly around her shoulders, Janeway's head resting on her chest. This separation felt like when they were arguing, apart and cold, but Seven understood that she had to maintain a certain amount of distance in the beginning. It would take days, she knew, possibly weeks. It was not even entirely out of the question that it could even take months, but she was prepared to take as long as she needed. She would not give up on Kathryn.

"So," Janeway said, somewhat uncertainly, "I suppose I should take a look at those logs." She did not seem enthusiastic about the idea, and Seven wondered if she was apprehensive about what she might find.

"It is not required that you be updated all in one day," Seven noted quietly. Not a suggestion, merely an observation.

Janeway nodded. "I suppose you're right," she said with a sort of relief. She sipped at her wine, made an appreciative face. "This is very good." She flicked a glance at Seven's glass. "You like wine?"

Janeway had taught Seven to appreciate the flavor of the beverage during the earliest part of their relationship, but the younger woman sensed that Kathryn had about all the information about her past that she could take for the moment, and was looking for a topic that was neutral. Seven had researched the subject of wine quite thoroughly, and knew she could discuss it intelligently. She began to speak about the bouquet of the vintage, and the planet on which it had been discovered. They talked about wine for some time, then switched to other topics that Seven was careful not to associate with their status as a couple. Until finally, it was the time Seven had been dreading, but quite aware that she had to expect.

"I suppose it's time I headed for bed," Janeway said delicately. "I don't want to put you out..."

"I intend to sleep on the couch," Seven said calmly.

"You don't have to do that," Janeway said quickly. "I can sleep on it. These are your quarters as well."

Seven took a breath. "Your sleep patterns are irregular at the best of times," she explained in a logical voice. "It is better for you to take the bed. I will be quite comfortable on the couch."

Janeway wanted to argue the point, Seven saw, but suddenly seemed too weary of it all, and merely nodded instead. Seven's heart went out to her, but she remained impassive, standing with her hands linked behind her as the captain went into the bedroom. The door slid shut with a finality that sliced through the young woman's heart, and miserably, Seven undressed and retrieved some Starfleet issued pyjamas from a compartment which also contained bedding and linens. She had been anticipating this, and had made the proper preparations, but it did not make her feel any better to have to experience it.

She made up the couch quickly, and slipped into it, staring bleakly up at the ceiling. What if Janeway never remembered their love? What if everything she could do was not enough, and Janeway never again found that special bond they had shared? Seven felt tears fill her eyes, and she bit her lip to stifle the sob in her throat. She did not want the captain to hear her.

Jake trotted over and heaved his paws onto the edge of the couch, pushing his head under her arm as he nosed her side with puppy concern. Before she realized what she was doing, Seven had lifted him onto the couch beside her, and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his warm coat which muffled her weeping. The dog whimpered but remained still, more to make sure that he got to stay up on the couch where he normally wasn't allowed, than out of any understanding of what she was going through, Seven was sure, but she could not deny that it made her feel better to hug him as he cuddled against her.

When sleep finally came to her, his warmth was a soothing presence that comforted her enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

Janeway stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered if she would ever lose the disoriented expression which was shading her eyes to gray. She had responded several times on a purely physical level during the evening, acting without thinking. When she did stop to think, she would ask herself why she had just set the table a certain way or why, when Seven had sat opposite her in the living area, she had sensed that was wrong, anticipating the warmth at her side rather than so far away. She could not remember Seven, but there was still something about her, something undefinable, yet undeniably attractive about her.

Janeway took a breath and dropped her eyes, tilting her head slightly as she saw the imperfection in the counter next to the sink. Frowning, she bent closer and examined what appeared to be four parallel groves on the top of the counter with one below, unsure as to what kind of ship stress would cause that sort of damage to the material. It was completely beyond her scientific ken, and she wondered why she had not contacted ship's maintenance to repair it, then decided that perhaps it had happened recently, and she had not had the chance.

She put on a nightgown, realizing that she hadn't taken the bath she had planned. At least the bathtub with its accessories were still the same, and she promised herself that she would definitely have one the next evening. She cleaned her teeth and went into the bedroom, crawling into the big bed and taking up a position in the center of it, curling around a pillow. There was a faint scent on the linens, one that danced tantalizingly along her mind's edge, and sleep stubbornly eluded her as she tossed and turned restlessly. At one point, she discovered she was staring straight up, and it took her a few minutes to understand that it was her reflection she was seeing there on the ceiling.

What the hell would possess me to have a mirror put up there?

She decided she shouldn't think about that one too much. Focusing her mind, she began several relaxation techniques, and finally managed to achieve an uneasy sleep.

She concentrated very hard on not trembling as she used the micro filament to alter the nodes in the woman's eyepiece. She wondered if the other could sense her nervousness, or worse, knew that her fingers were tingling so much it was hard to keep hold of the small metal probe. No one should have that much power over Captain Kathryn Janeway.
The elegant blonde profile was a mere breath away and the full, wine shaded lips were moving.
You were correct, Kathryn," Seven said very softly. "My desire to remain in the Delta Quadrant was based on fear. I am no longer Borg ... but the prospect of becoming Human is ... unsettling. I don't know where I belong."
You belong with me," Janeway told her, brushing her cheek with her thumb. "You always will."

Janeway's eyes flickered open, and she groaned softly. A wisp of dream darted away from her as she attempted to clarify it, and she blinked uncomfortably. The illumination had come up, signifying morning watch and automatically, she rolled out of bed. She went into the ensuite and took a quick shower, then dressed in the uniform she had recycled the night before. Strolling into the outer room, she raised an eyebrow as she saw the single place setting on the counter, the dishes covered with stasis lids. Intrigued, she deactivated the covers, and was surprised to find a plateful of fruit and muffins, the traditional continental breakfast. Orange juice, pulp included, filled a crystal glass, and the scent that rose from the mug was almost heavenly.

"Well, room service has certainly gotten better," she said wryly as she sat down on the low backed stool, hooking her feet around the simulated wooden legs.

Jake, gnawing on a bone in the corner, yipped in response to her voice and trotted over to her. She fed him a few bits of muffin which he snapped up with such eagerness that she suspected it was not something she was supposed to be doing with him. She wondered where Seven of Nine had disappeared to, then realized that the young woman was probably already on duty.

Not before she had prepared this repast for the captain, however, Janeway thought. She certainly couldn't complain about the gesture, and she wondered if it was a common occurrence or if she was being pampered by the young woman because she was still considered ill. In either event, it didn't stop her from thoroughly enjoying the meal. Breakfast was not something she was in a habit of partaking of on a regular basis ... at least, she didn't think she was.

The coffee was another revelation, and she savored it as she sipped it. What was it Seven had said? That Phoebe had taught her how to make it? Seven certainly had the unique flavor down. Janeway tried to decide if she should be jealous that her sister had taught Seven the secret while steadfastly refusing to teach it to her, or simply be glad she benefitted from it now. In either event, it certainly  seemed that Seven had made quite an impression on the Janeway family.

She deposited her dishes in the recycler, and headed for the door, looking apologetically at Jake who bounded after her, a ball in his mouth. "Sorry, boy," she said. "I don't have time to play."

He sat down in the middle of the floor, looking so disappointed that she decided that this was far from the first time he had tried to pull that expression. It was simply too practiced. She noticed the silver thermos on the table by the door and she paused. There was a note on it, written in precise print. 'Take to Ready Room.'

Curious, she picked it up and exited, strolling through the corridors. This was much better she thought, as she entered the turbolift. Not so much uncertainty here, and the ship was familiar as the lift rose swiftly to stop at the command center. The door opened, and swallowing her unease, she strode onto the bridge as she had so many times before. A quick glance around settled her. Everything was in the right place, and the bridge crew was still the same.

The slender, dark form of her chief of security, Tuvok, stood at tactical while Harry Kim still manned  operations. Both, however, had advanced a rank, she saw, and she made a note to remember that when she addressed them in the future. Tom Paris, still a lieutenant, half turned in his chair at the helm while Chakotay stood up expectantly.

"Captain," he greeted with honest appreciation in his voice. Around her, she could sense the sudden pleasure infusing the rest of the bridge crew, lightening their eyes, bringing smiles to their faces. Or, in Tuvok's case, a slightly raised Vulcan eyebrow.

"Commander," she returned calmly, though she was sure there was a grin curling the corner of her mouth. "Status."

She tucked the thermos under her arm, suddenly aware of the incongruity of it but no one seemed to notice, and she guessed that it was a regular accessory for her.

"The ship is maintaining course to the Alpha Quadrant," Chakotay responded promptly. "We're coming up on a group of systems that Seven has assured us is non-hostile. Actually, 'unremarkable' was her term. I gather the Borg came through here a few times. It might be a place to check out."

Janeway considered that. Apparently, where Neelix had once been their native guide, Seven was now considered the expert on the area they were traversing. She would have to remember that as well, and speak to her about it later. She nodded. "Set a course, Tom," she said.

"Aye, ma'am," he responded crisply, and turned back to his board.

She blinked at the very formal reply. She didn't think it was crunch time, then realized that her crew had been sincerely worried about her. She supposed she should not be surprised by that, but it pleased and flattered her, nonetheless. Chakotay cleared his throat slightly, and she regarded him inquiringly.

"Today is personnel reports," he said carefully.

"I tried to forget that," she joked dryly, and there was a palpable sense of relaxation that spread over the bridge at her easy humor.

"Oh, I believe it," he said with a relieved grin.

She smiled at him and turned for her ready room. "Tuvok," she said as she passed, giving him the conn as Chakotay followed her into the room.

This hadn't changed either, and she settled behind her desk with a quiet pleasure. She placed the thermos on the desk, bemused as Chakotay immediately picked it up and opened it, pouring the dark liquid it held into her cup with a practiced air. She smelled the warm, rich aroma of fresh brewed coffee, and she sent a mental thought of appreciation to the Borg who apparently was a woman of many skills. Seven certainly knew how to take care of her captain, Janeway thought.

Chakotay retreived a mug of Tirellian tea from the replicator for himself, and settled himself in the low-backed chair opposite her, picking up the first of the padds stacked on her desk.

She took a breath. "You realize, I'm still behind here," she said quietly.

"I know," he said simply.

And they left it at that as they began to go over the reports. There was one bad moment when Ensign Wildman was up for rotation to biometrics, and Janeway suggested that Ensign MacTara could replace her. Chakotay's face sobered, and he had to inform her that the young man had died on a mission a year and a half before.

That was the only truly awkward incident, however, and when the task was done, and Chakotay had left her alone, she leaned back in her chair, daring to feel a sense of satisfaction that she was still Kathryn Janeway, still captain of Voyager, and certainly not ready to give up that role anytime soon.

She accessed her computer and brought up the remaining mission logs she had to go over, startled to see a small, but distinct, image of Seven in the corner of the screen. She supposed that it was something she had placed there, though she had never considered herself the sort to indulge in that kind of ... well, romantic twaddle. Still, it was a discrete image, and she was soon able to ignore it as she began going over the logs immediately preceding her accident.

A few hours later, she poured herself another cup of coffee from the thermos and carefully mounted the short flight of stairs leading to the upper level of her Ready room. She sipped from her lucky cup as she stared out the huge windows of transparent aluminum, watching the stars streak by, distorted by the warp bubble surrounding the ship.

So much to absorb she thought. An encounter in the Beta Quadrant with a civilization very much like the Federation. A Bajoran orb which transported her people to the Alpha Quadrant and back. Recreating Kes in a holographic image which raised the question of sentience for the Doctor as well. An alien uprising, and the discovery that the Loch Ness monster now dwelt in the Delta Quadrant.

Her assimilation at the hands of the Borg.

Janeway shook her head. She supposed she should be grateful she didn't remember that, though it appeared that Seven of Nine had saved her. I must really love her, she thought dazedly. To have braved the Borg Collective to try to rescue her like that. My god, I never would have believed I would or could do that for anyone.

She contemplated the dark liquid in the porcelain cup, hoping to derive some kind of enlightenment from the smooth, velvet blackness. The recent side trip to the parallel universe where she had met a Commodore version of herself, seemed greatly commonplace compared to the knowledge of the slipstream project which had resulted from their encounter with the Borg. Apparently the propulsion drive hadn't worked perfectly the last time they tried it, the test shuttle disintegrating, leaving Seven and herself stranded on a planet for three weeks, but there was no question that the science behind the experiment, the theory itself, was entirely correct. It was just a matter of ironing out a few bugs, and adapting the system to Voyager. Once that happened ...

They would be home in three months.

Janeway regarded the passing stars thoughtfully.

It seemed the most significant thing she had done over the past three years was kidnap a drone from the Borg Collective and make her part of her crew.

If only she could remember it.

Seven of Nine stared at her astrometrics station without really seeing it, her thoughts swirling with the inescapable doubts and fear that she would be unable to do what was necessary to help the captain remember.  If only she were more Human, had more knowledge about this sort of situation.  Her research into it had been remarkably unhelpful, and it made her ill to think that she might actually be making things worse by imposing her presence on Janeway.

The hiss of the astrometrics lab door interrupted this depressing line of speculation, and she looked up to see the ship's chief engineer approaching her.

"Lt. Torres," she greeted formally, knowing they were both on duty. Her voice was grave because of the situation, but there was a lightening in her heart. The Klingon/Human hybrid had become her closest friend on the ship after Kathryn, and she was very glad to see her.

"Seven," the shorter woman responded soberly. "How are you?"

"I am ... functioning," Seven said finally, after giving the question all due consideration. "It is difficult at times, but I realize that the situation could be much worse."

"That it could be," B'Elanna agreed, leaning against the console as she regarded the tall blonde with dark, intent eyes. "I can't stay long. Vorik and I are going over the bridge science station again today. I just wanted to stop by and see how you're doing."

Seven nodded, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you," she said. She eyed the engineer curiously. "Have you discovered the cause of the captain's accident?"

The woman's face grew still. "I'm working on it," she said evenly.

Her suspicions were immediately aroused by the lack of inflection in the Klingon's tone ... B'Elanna was a bundle of emotion at the best of times ... and Seven fixed a penetrating stare on the lieutenant, frowning slightly.

"What have you discovered to date?" she insisted quietly.

B'Elanna's eyes slid away from hers uneasily. "I can't tell you, Seven," she said reluctantly. "Not yet. I don't have enough to go on."

Seven was really alarmed now by her friend's evasiveness. "Explain," she demanded, leaning forward.

B'Elanna shook her head. "I can't, Seven," she said. "Not right now. As soon as I have anything, you'll be the first to know ... after Tuvok."

Seven stared at her. "Tuvok," she repeated flatly. "Is this a security matter?"

"It could be," B'Elanna said. She frowned. "I shouldn't have told you this much.  Tuvok and I will handle this. Your main priority is looking after the captain."

That reminded Seven of her situation, and her face tightened. "She does not remember me, B'Elanna," she said softly. "She does not remember our love."

"She will," B'Elanna reassured. She grinned suddenly, though it appeared slightly forced. "Believe me, Seven. You're not the sort of person one can forget for very long. No matter how hard someone tries."

Seven recognized the attempt by B'Elanna to bring humor to the situation. She knew it was a standard practice in dealing with traumatic situations, particularly by this woman. It was honestly meant to comfort her, and she accepted the intention, rather than the literal meaning of the words.

"I try to have hope," Seven allowed.

B'Elanna's angular face softened, and she patted Seven on her arm. "Do that," she said. "I have to go."

Seven caught her hand, holding her in place as she froze the engineer with a significant look. "Find out why this happened," she said.

"I will," B'Elanna promised before she pulled away and left astrometrics.

Seven looked after her, thinking dark thoughts, then tried to resume her work. She would do herself, the ship or the captain, little good by neglecting her duties. She drew up the charts for the systems that lay ahead, utilizing her memory of the Collective's pass through here a century before, while bolstering the data with information gathered by the long range sensors. As she did, she tried not to think too hard about what the captain was doing, hoping that Janeway had found the transition back to duty easier than she had found her transition back to her personal life.

Seven remained at her post for her entire rotation, finishing the charts and sending them to operations on the bridge before beginning the next series for the area beyond the small nebula which lay ahead. However, when the chronometer display on her screen altered to indicate the end of her shift, Seven immediately logged off and headed for her quarters, hoping to prepare Janeway's favorite dish, a potato, corn and beef-flavored casserole, but when she entered the cabin, all thoughts of dinner immediately fled.

Janeway was curled up in the chair, several padds on the small table beside her, copious tears staining her face as she raised it to look at Seven.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

Today Seven of Nine announced our relationship to the entire bridge staff. She came onto the bridge near the end of our shift, and asked me if I had completed my day. When I foolishly replied in the affirmative, she blithly informed me, as well as all present, that we now had enough time to make love, since the morning had left us an insufficient amount.
I now know that it is absolutely impossible to die from sheer humiliation. Otherwise, I would not be sitting her to record this. I can only imagine what was going through the mind of Chakotay ... or my god, Tuvok. Yet, how can I be angry at her? Seven simply wants to be with me, and could care less if anyone else knows it. Since I was the one who told her this morning that we would have plenty of time to be together after our duty shifts, I have only myself to blame. I have to remember that Seven still takes things very literally and to be more careful about what I say to her in the future.

Janeway took a breath. The log entry had initially amused her, then realizing that this had actually happened to her, and not someone else, she had glanced around to see if anyone was looking. A foolish gesture since she was alone in her ready room. My god, Seven had certainly been a lot to handle, she thought dazedly. How did I manage to get through it? Yet, since they were still together, it was clear she had found a way.

Absently, she lifted the cup to her lips, disappointed to find it was empty. The thermos was long drained, and with dismay, she realized she would have to use the replicator to make more. She had an uncomfortable feeling she would not enjoy that beverage nearly as much.

Glancing at the time, she realized she had only an hour or so left on her duty shift. She wasn't accomplishing much in the way of ship's business, and she decided that she would rather be in her quarters while she went over the rest of her personal logs. Especially if the last one was any indication of what she could expect. She definitely didn't want anyone coming in here and catching a glimpse of it over her shoulder. She must remember to put some priority seals on the personal logs as soon as possible so that no one would ever be able to call them up.

She logged out of the ready room, forwarding her incoming to her quarters for the duration of her shift, then picked up the empty thermos, tucking it under her arm as she headed out the door. She nodded briefly at Chakotay who had the conn. "I'll be in my quarters," she informed him.

"Understood, Captain," he said easily.

The turbolift deposited her on deck three, and she strode into her cabin, startled again by how different they were. The familiarity of the bridge, and the ready room, had lulled her into a sense of comfort, and as a result, she found the transition even more jarring than the night before. She did appreciate the adoring bundle that greeted her eagerly, however, deciding that this was change she could easily get used to. She picked Jake up in a joyful hug after first dropping the thermos on the counter.

He wiggled happily in her arms, and she thought that he felt a bit heavier today. Puppies grew so fast at this age, and she knew it wouldn't be long until she would have to start walking him throughout the rest of the ship. She made a mental note to herself to ask Seven to create more devices like the one in the corner, and have them installed on every deck. That way, no matter where she and her pet walked, they would never be too far away from one.

Seven, she thought with a spurt of excitement. What made her think she had built the device? Then she glanced at it, and recognized the unmistakable Borg influence. Who else could have constructed it? An assumption based on accumulated visual data, she decided with disappointment, not a memory.

Depressed suddenly, she released Jake before going into the kitchenette and retreiving the plate of caramel brownies from beneath the counter.After replicating a large glass of milk, the sides of the glass frosted slightly, she carried both back to the coffee table. Jake scooted over, an interested expression on his fuzzy face, but she frowned sternly at him.

"No, Jake," she said firmly.  His ears went down, and she went over to the work area.  This is pure comfort food, she thought as she bit into the gooey square, savoring the chocolate and caramel combination as she downloaded more of her personal logs from her console into a series of smaller data padds, taken aback by how many remained for her to catch up on. This could take days, she noted dismally. She squared her shoulders and returned to the chair, carrying her stack of padds. She settled into it comfortably, and reached over for another brownie, frowning as she realized the stack was a lot smaller than it had been.

She glared at Jake who looked as innocent as it was possible to look through the dark bits decorating his snout, clear evidence of his perfidy.

"Bad dog," she scolded. "Bad, bad dog." He lowered his head in shame ... and licked his chops.

She favored him with a look of disapproval, then returned her attention to the first padd. Curling up in the chair, she began to read, picking up where she had left off in the ready room.

Time passed without notice as she discovered that she had tried to stop loving Seven ... an unsuccessful attempt, obviously ... and found that Seven possessed a remarkably forgiving nature which no doubt stood her in good stead living with a Starfleet captain. Janeway also learned, muich to her surprise, that Voyager's captain possessed a rather unattractive streak of jealousy, appalled at the pettiness of her log entries that had followed their arrival in the Beta Quadrant's Confederacy. She was disconcerted to realize she was disliking this Tazna Jade person without having to actually remember her.

The next log started with an entry which was thoroughly chastising to herself. She had forgotten Seven's birthday? Somehow, that did not surprise Janeway, and she made a face as she read how she had neglected her partner, overlooking plans for dinner, forgetting appointments, and then finally, being totally oblivious to Annika's special day. Janeway winced as she read how she had ignored Seven's needs time and time again but that she was hoping a special birthday surprise, albeit a few days late, would make up for it somehow. Then Janeway accessed the next entry and her blood froze, staring at a haggard image of herself, the voice broken, and barely audible.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

Annika is dead.
I say it out loud, yet it doesn't seem real. I don't want it to be real. I saw it happen and I still can't believe it. I seem to be able to absorb the loss of B'Elanna and Chakotay, but Annika .... she can't be gone. She can't. I don't know how I can go on with this, yet I know I must. The ship needs me. The ship always needs me, and as always, I find myself answering that need.

Annika is dead.
One moment I am anticipating her return, and the surprise I have planned for her, and the next, she's gone without even a chance to tell her how much I love her. All my wasted opportunities. All the times I worked rather than be with her, all the times I put duty first and her last. I can't fix this now. I can never fix it.

Annika is dead.
I keep wanting to ask someone why this happened, why it had to be Annika, what I have to do to make this go away. I want to scream out these questions, but I know there is no one who can answer me.

Annika is dead.
There will be a memorial service tomorrow. The crew will look to me for guidance, for solace in this time of terrible tragedy. I will make something up, and they will accept it because I am captain, and therefore I must know how to make some sense to this ... but I don't. I will spend the rest of my life never making sense of it.

Annika is dead.
Oh god, why couldn't it have been me?

Janeway stared at the tiny viewscreen as it went blank, the entry abruptly ending, and she felt her breath catch at the back of her throat as she went through the rest of the entries in the log. Such a combination of loss and guilt, she thought dazedly. The litany of despair and hopelessness seemed to be beyond bearing., yet somehow, she had managed to continue to function after Seven's presumed death, probably because she had no choice, the ship deep in the heart of hostile space. The official mission logs she had read earlier had given absolutely no indication of this private and personal hell.

She was startled when the entries suddenly stopped, as if the person recording simply had nothing left to say. She crosschecked the Stardates, and realized that the personal logs ceased a good month before the official logs revealed the triumphant return of Voyager's three lost crewmembers. She instinctually understood that the woman, Kathryn Janeway, had stopped existing while the starship captain went on.

Profoundly, shaken, she viewed the final entry in the log.

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

I have been remiss in keeping up to date on my log regarding all that has happened the last three months, but what was there to say? Annika was dead ... and a very vital part of me died at the same time. But now, Annika is alive. She was always alive. Strangely, I find myself furious with her for having put me through this, for granting me this preview of hell, even though I know she had no control over what happened. She had no intention of hurting me, yet I feel as if this was her way of punishing me for my past neglect. I want to shake her for scaring me so badly. Instead, I hold her as if I will never let go, and doing my absolute best not to cry like a child. It is completely irrational but then, rational is not exactly a word I could use to describe myself these last months.

Annika is alive.
Even now she lies asleep in our bed, and I go repeatedly to the bedroom door to look in on her, to reassure myself that I am not dreaming. That the nightmare is in fact, over. She looks so innocent, so peaceful, lying there; so very beautiful. I am unsurprised that my family absolutely adores her. Their messages rave about her, especially Mother's. I have the impression that she approves of our relationship more than any other I have ever been involved in. I don't know why. I'm not sure I want to know why. I am content that she has had this chance to know Annika, and is happy for us.

Annika is alive.
I watched her this morning as she opened the gifts that should have been hers months ago, and thought that to have her back is a gift beyond measure, a treasure beyond price, a second chance that I probably don't deserve, but shall be eternally grateful for.

Annika is alive.
And she is my heart. Without her, I have none, just a frozen lump of nothingness where it used to be. I don't believe she understands how much I need her. Until now, I didn't understand it myself. I will never let her down, again. I will never allow myself to put her second to anything, including this ship. I never thought I would or could say that about another human being, no matter how much I loved them.

Annika is alive.
Finally, so am I.

Janeway was embarrassed by the tears flowing freely down her face, but she couldn't seem to stop them. Did she truly love Seven that much? It seemed she must, yet there was nothing within her to prove it. She strained for some sense of it, some hint of the raw, overpowering emotion that she had supposedly felt for the young woman, but it remained forever elusive. What would she do if it never returned? Would she too, cease to be? Would only the captain, the role ... the rank ... be left to carry on, to function in the woman's stead?

The door hissed open, and she looked up to see Seven of Nine standing in the doorway. The young woman's expression spoke volumes, and clumsily, Janeway wiped her face.

"I ... I forgot the time," she said huskily, "and that you would be off duty."

"Are you all right, Captain?" Seven asked uncertainly. Janeway had to remember that, as hard as it was for her to be going through this, it had to be harder still for the young Borg. After all, Seven had not forgotten the relationship at all, the emotion still filling those pale blue eyes, though she tried very hard to hide it.

"I'm fine, Seven," Janeway responded, a bit more harshly than she intended.

Seven did not flinch, but the captain thought she saw a hint of shadow cross the young woman's gaze for just an instant.

"I'm sorry," Janeway apologized in a much gentler tone. She motioned to the padds. "I've been going over the logs and ... some of them are difficult to deal with all at once."

"I understand," Seven said carefully. She took a breath and dropped her eyes, going over to the kitchenette where she immediately began to pull out dishes and ingredients.

"Now, I know why you learned to cook," Janeway said, after an awkward pause that seemed to stretch for hours. Hesitantly, she got up and moved over to the counter, perching gingerly on the stool. "My mother is very persuasive."

"She is, indeed," Seven agreed in a subdued tone. When she finally dared to glance up, it was to study Janeway anxiously. "Would you care for anything? It will be some time before dinner is ready."

Oddly, Janeway felt humor suddenly flicker inside her, hiding her grin as she dipped her head. She is so like Mother, she thought. Food is the cure for everything. Not much wonder they got along so well.

"I'm afraid I raided the kitchen earlier," she admitted bashfully. She looked back at the glass now standing empty on the table, the profusion of chocolate crumbs scattered amongst the padds, the considerably diminished number of brownies on the plate testament to Janeway's love for the sweets ... and Jake's thievery.

Seven followed her glance, her eyebrow raising as she counted the remaining squares, then she favored the captain with a look of pure astonishment. "Nine?" she said. "You ate nine?"

"Well, to be honest, I only ate four," Janeway countered, trying not to laugh. "Jake, um...."

"They are not good for Jake," Seven said with dismay.

Janeway flashed her a smile. "I liked them," she responded. "So did he."

She stared at Seven, and finally the young woman lowered her eyes, but not before Janeway had seen the amusement coloring them, whether with regards to the dog, or the fact the captain was such a pushover with him. Janeway wasn't sure which was the case, though she was glad that the mood had lightened somewhat. Slipping off the stool to retrieve her dirty glass from the table, Janeway popped it into the recycle unit, and swept the crumbs onto the carpet, intending to clean them up later, but Jake immediately pounced on them, vacuuming them up far more efficiently than any cleaning device could manage.

Janeway snuck a glance at Seven, who regarded them both sternly so she offered a mock glare to the dog. "You're going to get me into trouble," she growled. "Try not to be so obvious."

Jake wagged his tail, and looked expectantly at her for more. She grinned at him, and returned to her stool with the plate of sweets, placing it on the counter as she watched Seven layer the pastry at the bottom of the casserole with potatoes, spices, corn, and beef protein.

"I love that dish," Janeway said.

Seven hesitated, then nodded. "I know," she admitted. "I hope that by preparing your favorite meals, it might help you ... remember."

Janeway considered that. "I don't think so," she offered thoughtfully. "I mean, the concept is probably sound, but these dishes bring back my childhood, which I already remember. Perhaps if you prepared a dish that was uniquely yours, and not a recipe from my mother, it would work better." Then, she held up a hand, eyes widening with alarm. "It doesn't have to be tonight," she added hastily.

Seven, who had merely paused temporarily in her preparation, allowed a small smile to curl up both sides of her mouth. "I will not waste this," she promised. "However, I believe you may be right. I had not considered the fact that these meals were created so that you could have a sense of home. It was short sighted of me. Unfortunately, I do not have any recipes that are 'uniquely mine'. I utilize only Gretchen's. She gave me so many that I have not yet attempted them all, and of course, there are favorites that you enjoy having me repeat on a regular basis."

Janeway nodded. "Is there anything we did together that is uniquely ours?" she asked.

Seven stared at her, then blushed, looking down as she bit her bottom lip, suddenly extremely busy with placing the corn with just the right thickness in the dish.

Janeway was confused, then blushed herself as she thought about it. "I mean," she said self-consciously. "Something besides ... that."

"We played Velocity," Seven offered.

Janeway frowned. "The game with the disc and phasers?" she asked. "I never learned to play."

"Actually," Seven said gently, concentrating on her task, "you are the best player on the ship."

Janeway felt the emptiness yawn beneath her again, and took a deep breath. "Oh," she said. She forced a grin. "The best on the ship?"

Seven looked up, eyes sparkling. "Oh yes," she said with enthusiasm. "I have never beaten you, even though I possess superior visual acuity and stamina. Although Chakotay came close to defeating you in one match, it was only because you had pulled a ligament. Even then, you beat him with a triple ricochet move that was absolutely brilliant."

"I see," Janeway responded, smiling easily now at the young woman's vivaciousness. She folded her hands on the counter, and tilted her head slightly as she regarded the other woman. "We'll have to schedule a game soon."

"I would like that," Seven said, somewhat shyly. She placed her casserole in the heating unit, and set it to high.

Janeway promptly hopped off the stool, and went to set the table as the young woman began to prepare Jake's dinner. The captain realized that she did feel a sort of comfort in doing these domestic tasks, and it encouraged her that she remembered how to place the settings.

There was a chime at the door, and she frowned, looking over at Seven. The Borg appeared equally baffled, and Janeway went to answer it. The Doctor stood outside, regarding her sourly.

"You were supposed to be in sickbay ten minutes ago," he said.

Janeway winced. "I forgot," she said honestly.

"Why does that not surprise me?" he said, brushing past her to enter the quarters. He nodded briefly at Seven, then glanced at Jake who was bounding about him, barking with puppy fierceness, darting at the hologram's ankles to snap at his pant legs. "Do you mind calling off your dog?" he asked acidly.

Janeway found herself darting a look at Seven who returned it, warmed by the moment of shared amusement.

"Jake," Seven said crisply. "Good dog. Sit."

Jake glanced at her, then glared back at the Doctor though he did sit down. He did not stop growling, however, and Janeway was hard pressed not to smile at the Doctor's expression. "I'm sure he doesn't mean it," she offered.

"I'm sure," he echoed with obvious disbelief. "Captain, if we could retire to your bedroom while I examine you?"

She nodded and led the way, feeling a bit embarrassed as he stopped and gazed up at the mirror on the ceiling. "How ... decadent," he sniffed. "This certainly wasn't here the last time I visited."

Janeway was still getting used to the idea that the Doctor could now leave sickbay. "You've been in my bedroom?" she asked with distaste.

"Oh yes," he replied readily, apparently not picking up on the tone of her voice. "The last time was when Seven first rejected her abdominal implant, and was vomiting excessively. Not to mention when your lovemaking took on ... shall we say ... a violent turn."

Janeway blinked at him. "Violent?" she said, face paling.

He glanced at her, and offered a contrite expression. "I'm sorry, Captain," he said hastily. "Nothing like that. In the beginning, Seven occasionally lost control of her hand implant during your more ... intimate moments. Honestly, it was only that one time that she shredded your back muscles. She learned very quickly to ... well, improvise. In fact, I suggested the metal rod on the headboard, and it seems to have done the trick quite nicely," he added brightly.

"Oh," Janeway said weakly. Well, at least now she knew what the metal bar was for. Lost control, he said? She made the ice queen out there lose control? Despite herself, she felt a faint sense of cockiness steal over her, but then she realized she had no memory of how she had managed to pull it off, and again, the ground grew unsteady beneath her. She swallowed her fear, knowing it was altering to anger, but unable to contain it completely.

"Let's get on with this," she said irritably, shrugging out of her tunic.

Seven of Nine looked up as the Doctor and Janeway returned to the living area. The Doctor looked relaxed and the young woman dared to hope that this meant it was good news. The captain, on the other hand, did not look relaxed, and Seven immediately wondered what they had talked about in there.

"Doctor?" she asked, trying to curb her anxiety.

"The neural sequencers do seem to be generating new pathways," he replied to her unspoken question. "I'm beginning to offer a hope... very tentative, mind you ... for complete regeneration."

"Meaning?" Seven said.

"That it is entirely possible that she may be able to once again access her missing memories," he said. "By utilizing these new neural pathways."

"It's not probable, however," Janeway pointed out, dampening the enthusiasm rising in Seven.

"Still," Seven said, unable to keep her eyes from shining. "This is good news."

"Yes, it is," he said. He looked back at the captain. "I leave you in Seven's capable hands," he added. "In the meantime, don't forget your next appointment. Two days from now, same time."

"I'll try to remember," Janeway told him dryly.

He made a small face at her and left. Janeway stared after him a moment. "Somehow, he's gotten a lot more presumptuous in the past three years," she noted idly, hands on her hips.

Seven placed the casserole on the table. "Especially since you accorded he and Sek full crewmember status," she offered casually.

Janeway looked sharply at her, then shook her head as if deciding she didn't want to know. She took a seat and scooped a large portion of the casserole onto her plate. She eagerly took a bite, then shot a look at Seven. "You know, I am absolutely astounded at how well you do this," she complimented. "It's not an easy skill to master."

Seven didn't quite know how to respond. The compliment sounded a little condescending, as if Janeway could still not believe that Seven was capable of these all too Human tasks.  Or perhaps she was just being too sensitive. Still, Janeway did seem a little put out by the Doctor's visit, and there was an edginess there that Seven had learned to recognize was the captain's attempting to cover up some deeper, underlying emotion ... such as anger.

Or fear.

"Thank you," Seven said finally, in a quiet voice.

She began to eat, keeping a close eye on the captain, but Janeway did not seem inclined to talk, and the meal was consumed in silence. When it was over, Janeway found the ball and played with Jake, but Seven could tell it was by rote only. The Borg cleaned up quickly, then picked up a padd from her desk. "I must speak to Lt. Torres," she said. "I will be away most of the evening."

Janeway nodded, but Seven could see the relief in her eyes. It hurt profoundly, but the young woman knew that Janeway would occasionally require space during her recovery, and it was apparent that this was one of those times. Swallowing hard, Seven quickly left their quarters and asked the computer for the chief engineer's location. The computer directed Seven to engineering, and she found B'Elanna in her office, going over the schematics of the bridge science station. Tuvok was with her, and Seven felt disturbed when she saw their grave faces.

"What has happened?" she asked.

"How is the captain?" Tuvok asked instead.

"Uneasy tonight," Seven said, eyeing him narrowly. "Which is why I am here. She requires distance at times."

"I admire your ability to approach this logically," he remarked. "In what is clearly a highly emotional situation."

She nodded, aware that he was digressing even as she was truly warmed by the compliment. Tuvok had been the first crewmember that she had approached on a personal level after joining Voyager, appreciating his calm, rational approach to things, a trait of his Vulcan people. When her first forays into Humanity seemed less than successful, she found comfort in attempting to emulate him, and he had returned her attention with a paternal interest, though she had never been quite sure why.

"What have you discovered?" she persisted.

"What makes you believe we have discovered anything?" he countered evenly.

"The fact that you answered my question with a question," she replied reasonably. "Otherwise you would have told me that nothing new had been discovered."

He raised an approving eyebrow at her logic, and nodded briefly. "We have indeed, found something disturbing," he admitted. "It appears that the accident was in fact, not an accident."

"The science station was sabotaged," B'Elanna blurted, apparently tired of all this verbal interplay that Tuvok and Seven liked to indulge in.

Seven felt the blood suddenly drain from her face, and she sank into the nearest seat. "Someone tried to kill Kathryn?" she said. She could scarcely recognize her own voice.

"We do not know that it was intended for the captain," Tuvok rationalized. "In fact, it is likely it was not. The bridge science station is hardly a post she covers often."

"Who usually is assigned that post?" B'Elanna asked.

"Lt. Angela James covers that station during the alpha rotation," Tuvok agreed. "But it was not her post this week. In fact, no one has it this week due to the unremarkable area of space we're traversing."

"No one has ever explained to me why the captain was at that station to begin with," Seven said slowly.

"She had accessed it to run a projection of the slipstream drive reacting with a quantum singularity," Tuvok replied. "When she picked up an intermittent pulse on the circuit relays, she decided to repair it herself."

"Instead of calling me," B'Elanna said grumpily.

"In which case, you would have been the one injured," Seven said thoughtfully.

"My head is a lot harder than the captain's," the Klingon returned. The smooth ridges of bone on her forehead seemed to catch the light, emphasizing her point.

"Still, the explosion was triggered by the removal of that panel," Tuvok added.  "It is removed only when repairs are being made to the console.  Therefore, the sabotage was probably intended for whoever were repairing it, which would normally be personnel from engineering."

"Perhaps it was to destroy something at the console itself?" Seven offered.

"That is entirely possible," Tuvok said thoughtfully.  "It could be an attempt to cover the evidence of another sort of sabotage."

Seven frowned. "If someone has attempted to harm Kathryn...," she trailed off.

"You'll get first crack at him," B'Elanna promised loyally.

Tuvok regarded them both sardonically. "May I remind you who is chief of security?" he reminded them. "As well as the fact that Starfleet rules apply to any situation on the ship."

"What? You want first crack?" B'Elanna asked him breezily. "Fine, just so long as you leave some for us."

Tuvok did not dignify that with an answer, and B'Elanna sent a mischievous glance Seven's way. Despite the situation, Seven felt herself relax a little, realizing only now how tense she had become in her quarters. This was only the second day, she thought with dismay. Did she have the strength to carry this through? To help Kathryn every step of the way?

She would just have to find it in her, she decided stubbornly.

They talked about the sabotage further, all three putting in further speculation and theories, before calling it an evening. Tuvok promised to keep Seven updated on their progress, and she returned to her quarters feeling apprehensive about this new information, even though she did not know what to do about it. She had asked Tuvok and B'Elanna's advice about whether she should share it with the captain, and they were unanimous in telling her to keep it quiet for the time being. Seven didn't know if she liked that idea at all, but Tuvok generally did not steer her wrong with his advice.

B'Elanna was a completely different matter, of course.

Seven tiptoed into the cabin, surprised at how late it had gotten. The lights were dim, only a brief illumination from the emergency lights running along the base of the walls, and from the stars out the windows. She quietly made up the couch, dressing in her pyjamas, all the while noticing that the door leading to the bedroom had been left open this night. She felt an irresistible urge to go through it, wanting to at least see Kathryn, but she dared not intrude on the captain's privacy which would be very precious to Janeway at this very uncertain time. Still Seven was unable to resist totally, and carefully she moved closer to the doorway, looking into the bedroom unobtrusively.

The captain was asleep, her breathing slow and steady. Seven felt a pang in her chest, knowing that it had been not so long ago that the captain had found it difficult to sleep at all without Seven next to her. It was apparent that Janeway had adapted. Seven longed to join her, to wrap herself around that slender form, bury her face in the warm, auburn hair, and breathe deep the glorious fragrance of Kathryn. She wondered what would happen if she did, how Janeway would respond. Would she roll over in that sleepy manner she had, rearranging herself so that she was sprawled all over Seven, nuzzling the Borg's neck and chest briefly before resuming her slumber, all without ever waking up fully? Or would she instead wake up furious, object loudly, and throw Seven not only out of the bed, but also out of their quarters.

Seven thought miserably that the latter would be the more likely scenario. She turned around and went unhappily to the couch. Jake was lying next to the pillow, his little tail thumping hard as he regarded her. She frowned at him, but did not remove him as she crawled into her bed. He showed his appreciation with a wet swipe across her chin, and settled down contentedly in the crook of her arm.

"You are impossible," she said darkly.

He whimpered happily, and promptly went to sleep.

She wished it were as easy for her.

"I'm sorry, Captain," the Doctor said. "There was nothing I could do. He set up a force shield that I could not get through and refused to listen to either Seven or me. One allowed himself to die so that he would never fall into the hands of the Borg."
Janeway felt a wave of sadness flood her at the waste, at the loss of the potential. One had been a unique individual and she mourned his sacrifice even as she was proud of it. "I know you did all you could," she said, hoping her regret would carry over the comm channel.
"I'm a little worried about Seven, Captain," the Doctor said then. "She seemed very upset when she left sickbay."
Janeway's eyes widened, a small furrow of concern appearing between her eyebrows. She glanced at Chakotay who was regarding her with a empathetic expression. "Where is she now?" she asked tersely.
"I believe she returned to cargo bay two," the EMH responded.
"I'll take care of it, Doctor," she assured him.
"Thank you, Captain," he said and cut the channel.
She glanced at Chakotay again and he nodded briefly, all that was sufficient to hand the conn over to him. "I'll be in cargo bay two," she said quietly and got out of the command chair.
The turbo lift seemed slow as it carried her down to deck seven and she tried not to fidget as she waited. The large cargo bay doors parted obediently for her and she strode briskly in, hesitating as she saw Seven standing motionless in front of her work station, her head bent, shoulders slumped.
She looks so lost, Janeway thought, her heart catching.
Quietly she joined the young woman, reaching out to enfold the young woman compassionately in her arms.
"I'm so sorry about One," she said softly. "I know you truly cared for him."
Seven did not look up, and Janeway saw the two small tears tracking down the alabaster cheeks. "I am unfamiliar with how I feel," Seven said in a small choked voice. "He was very brave, Kathryn, I should be proud, but this is hurting me."
Janeway drew the Borg over to the dais where they sat down, side by side, resting her hand on the narrow shoulder, feeling the delicate bones through the thin material of Seven's outfit.
"When we care about someone," Janeway explained gently. "Losing them can sometimes be more than we think we can bear, regardless of the curcumstances, but mourning their lost is also part of being Human, Seven."
"Is that why I feel this way?" the Borg asked, sniffing hard.
"Yes," Janeway said. "It's all right to cry, Seven. In fact, it's good for you to let these emotions display themselves in this way. Just let yourself go. It will help you heal."
As if Janeway's blessing had been all she needed, Seven leaned forward, arms wrapped around her ribs, weeping with deep, wracking sobs that shook her body helplessly. Janeway hugged her tightly, arm across her chest, resting her other hand on the back of the blonde head, stroking it gently, murmuring soft words that did not need to make sense but were soothing and supportive. The sobs eventually subsided, but Janeway did not release her comforting hold, did not stop crooning to her until Seven was finally able to straighten, wiping ineffectually at her face. Janeway wished she had some sort of handkerchief but they were hardly Starfleet issue. Instead, she used her uniform tunic sleeve to help dry the tears.
Seven took a deep breath and looked at her with reddened eyes.
"I am glad you are here," she said uncertainly. "It still hurts, however."
"It will for some time," Janeway told her. "But it will get better, Seven, I promise you. You will never forget One, but eventually you'll be able to remember him without pain." She placed her hand gently on the smooth cheek and looked deeply into the pale eyes. "Seven, I'm very glad I was here for you as well. I wouldn't have wanted you to go through this alone."

Janeway came awake abruptly, grasping desperately at the dream. Seven had been crying, she knew, and she had been comforting her, but how or why, she could not understand. The longer she was awake, the more insubstantial and fleeting it seemed. Was it a memory? Or a projection of what she was beginning to feel for the woman now, confused with all the logs she had been reading.

She took a breath and rolled over, then wearily got up. It was still dark in the quarters, and a glance at the time revealed that she still had hours to go before morning watch occurred. She slipped silently into the ensuite and washed her face with cold water, blinking at her reflection in the mirror as she dried her face with a towel. She firmed her jaw, pulling on the command mask, glad that it still fit seamlessly, then dressed in a fresh uniform and left the bedroom.

She moved as quietly as she could by the huddled figure on the couch, wondering if Seven was actually asleep, or if she was just feigning as the captain herself had been the night before when Seven had returned home. The Borg had stood for what seemed forever in the bedroom doorway, gazing at her, and Janeway had thought ... just for an instant ... that the young woman was going to join her in the bed. She wasn't sure how she would respond, whether with the aching need that had come over her suddenly, the incredible urge to have that warm body wrap around her, or the absolute terror she felt at having to deal with this person that she did not know in the slightest.

Janeway strode rapidly down the corridor, unsure of where she was going, only that she needed to be on the move. She made a long tour of the ship, stopping to chat with a crewmember now and again, people who, because of their preference for the back shift, kept her from knowing them well ... or them, her ... which made everything seem completely normal. Just the captain making an unofficial inspection, and she was pleased to see how shipshape everything was. Then she remembered, according to the logs, Voyager had recently undergone two overhauls, once in the Beta Quadrant, then again, when B'Elanna had returned from the Alpha Quadrant with all kinds of new equipment and enhancements.

Which reminded her of the personal logs she had been reading prior to going to bed. Amongst all her opinions about the upgrades, Janeway had come across her thoughts about Seven's rejected abdominal implant, and the creation of the new Emergency Medical Assistant. Seven had been very helpful to the captain when the tough decision about the hologram's sentience had to be made, and Janeway wished she could speak to Seven now the way she apparently could then, confide in her all her doubts and fears, tell her of all the feelings that were keeping her up at night.

Janeway suddenly found herself missing Kes, intensely. For her, it was as if she had just lost the young Ocampa rather than the almost two years it had really been. Janeway would have loved to speak to Kes about everything that was going on, knowing that the young woman would understand utterly, or at least, appear to understand. There would be no sense of being judged, no sense of needing to explain herself, just the calm, warm presence that was so comforting, so soothing. For whatever reason, the hologram based on her personal matrix simply did not share that empathic nature, though Sek still seemed very kind.

Shaking herself out of the malaise that was affecting her, Janeway headed for the bridge, smiling as she saw Harry Kim spring to his feet as she exited the turbolift. After all this time, and a lieutenant's pip later, the young man still responded sometimes like the ensign fresh out of the Academy. She wondered if he would ever be able to get the proper seasoning on Voyager that he needed to advance in his career. Unlike before, it was a valid concern now that there was a good chance they would be returning home in the next year or so.

"You still have the conn," she explained. "I'm just in a little early to catch up on some work."

"Yes, captain," he responded crisply. He didn't salute, but that was only because in Starfleet, they didn't.

She entered her ready room, relieved to be surrounded by the familiar furnishings and ornaments. It occurred to her that she really did not like change. She wondered if it had been a problem when Seven had moved in, when their quarters had required a lot of renovation to allow for two people ... especially since they both seemed so strong willed.

She sat down at her desk, and brought up the weekly departmental reports. She needed to think about something else for a while, she decided, something other than her missing memories and her relationship, whatever it was at the moment, with Seven. Willing herself to concentrate utterly on the data, she immersed herself in ship's business, catching up on what was going on in every section, no matter how small.

A soft chime at her door interrupted her some time later and she looked up, blinking hard.

"Come in," she said with a touch of apprehension.

But it was only Harry, and he brought in the silver thermos, setting it gently on her desk. "Seven dropped this by," he said casually. There was no unusual inflection in his tone, no sense he was amused by this domestic touch or found it anything other than a common occurrence. "Alpha shift begins in twenty minutes," he added.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said. "Chakotay will relieve you."

"Understood," he said, and left without saying anything else.

She stared at the silver container, trying to decide how she felt about this caring, thoughtful gesture from the young woman, and was completely unable to attach a proper description to it. Maybe, Janeway thought as she unscrewed the cover and poured the day's first cup of coffee, I'm just trying too hard. She took a long drink from her lucky cup, and went back to work.

The day progressed as most did, though it did include a few interesting incidents. She was called onto the bridge when they arrived at the planetary system, and she spent an hour or so speaking to a representative of the indigenous species. The Blighia, as they were called, had indeed turned out to be unremarkable, but they did have a supply of medical herbs and drugs that the doctor decided would be nice to have. Janeway spent some time negotiating for them, finally having to offer a few more data chips than she initially wanted. Eventually the deal was complete, and the supplies beamed over. A quick study of the legal obligations required to make planetfall indicated a restrictive and dull sort of culture, not the sort of place Voyager would care to linger, so with courteous farewells, Janeway had Paris set course for the next group of stars.

This area of space was thick with inhabited systems after their recent passage through the Void, and she hoped that meant supplies and food would be easily found. It seemed that with any luck, their final years in the Delta Quadrant would be spent in relative comfort, a nice change from the first years where everything was rationed, and they had no idea where their next power supply would come from.

She returned to her ready room and set up the schematics for the new shuttle craft Tom Paris had designed, intrigued by the all-terrain capabilities. She wondered why he had named it the Delta Flyer, and marveled at the odd control panels he had designed. Before she knew it, beta shift was half over, and she realized she should have ended her shift four hours earlier.

As she was logging off her console, a call came in from sickbay.

"Captain, there's been an accident," the Doctor said soberly. "Lt. Torres has been injured."

Seven of Nine leaned worriedly over the biobed containing the loudly complaining Klingon. "I'm telling you," B'Elanna protested. "I'm perfectly fine."

"You have a ten inch gash in your back," the Doctor said, pushing her back down on the bed. "Where do you think all the blood decorating my sickbay came from? Now will you stay still until I repair it?"

Fuming, B'Elanna subsided onto her belly, and Seven knelt down so that their heads were level.

"B'Elanna," she asked worriedly as the Doctor retrieved his instruments. "Was this sabotage as well?"

Torres frowned at her, then suddenly looked thoughtful. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "I thought it was an accident, but truthfully, there's no reason that blast door in the Jeffries tube should have dropped just then." She took a breath, brows furrowed darkly as she considered it carefully. "You know, it just might have been a trap of some sort." She darted a look at Seven. "By the way, thanks for getting me out of there," she added quietly as the Doctor returned, running his myo-vascular regenerator over the wound, then finishing up with a pass from his dermal regenerator, leaving the skin intact once more.

"It was the most efficient method," Seven told her honestly. "It was taking too long for the engineering crew to bypass the computer override."

"Thanks anyway," B'Elanna said shortly, then grinned, showing sharp-edged teeth. "That was quite the expression on Carey's face when you ripped open the junction box."

"It was the same expression you used to get," Seven reminded her.

B'Elanna smirked. "He doesn't know you like I do," she said. "I expect you to do things like that now." She snuck a look over her shoulder as the captain entered sickbay and lowered her voice. "Oh boy, we might have to tell her."

"What happened?" Janeway demanded as she reached them, frowning intently.

"Lt. Torres was trapped when a blast door in the Jeffries tube shut unexpectantly," the Doctor replied crisply. "Her injuries are easily repaired, though she did damage a main blood vessel. If Seven hadn't freed her so quickly, B'Elanna might have been in a little trouble from the excessive bleeding." He glanced around his sickbay which was liberally splattered with Klingon blood. "On the other hand, I would rather she had left some of it in the Jeffries tube," he added sourly.

Janeway took a breath, and Seven felt the captain's eyes on her.

"What were you doing in the Jeffries tube?" she asked sharply. "I expect to find B'Elanna there, but I thought your post was in astrometrics?"

Seven was surprised by the note of anger in the catpain's voice, then realized it was springing from Janeway's fear, either at the injury B'Elanna had suffered, or just because things had been so uncertain for her lately. It bothered her even though she thought she understood it.

"B'Elan --- Lt. Torres and I were discussing ... " Seven's voice trailed off uncertainly. "The situation."

"While on duty?" Janeway asked, color suddenly staining her cheeks.

B'Elanna sat up as the doctor moved away, his treatment complete. "Seven is a department head under my authorization, Captain," she said, carefully tempering her voice to a respectful tone. "We frequently consult whenever we can on things that affect our sections. As these accidents do."

"My loss of memory is not a topic I care to have discussed in a Jeffries tube," Janeway said icily.

Seven blinked, realizing that Janeway had misunderstood. "Not that 'situation'," she said quietly.

That brought the captain up short, and Seven saw that Janeway was embarrassed, something that was anathema to the young woman. Originally, their conflicts with each other had been loud and very often, public. As Seven became more aware of the Starfleet command structure, and how it forced Janeway into sometimes narrow avenues of response, the younger woman found she was waiting until they were alone before she disagreed with Janeway. To have put the captain in a position where she felt embarrassed, no matter how minor, made Seven extremely uncomfortable, as if she had somehow betrayed her captain, had undermined her in some undefinable way.  It made her feel slightly ill inside.

"My mistake," Janeway said stiffly. "Perhaps you'd care to explain what 'situation' you were discussing when the malfunction occurred." She fixed a baleful stare on B'Elanna who's ears flattened visibly against her head. "As well as what caused the malfunction."

"The same thing that cost you your memory, I'm afraid, Captain," Tuvok interjected at that moment, striding across the deck. Seven had not even heard him come in.

"Then, it was sabotage," B'Elanna blurted, then looked as if she wished she could rip her tongue out when the captain stared at her with a startled expression.

"I suggest we retire to a more secure area," Tuvok said firmly.

Seven and B'Elanna exchanged significant glances as the Doctor appeared miffed that he was apparently being kept in the dark about something. Janeway looked more than miffed. She looked positively outraged, and Seven felt her heart sink as she and the engineer followed the two bridge officers out of sickbay.

In the conference room, Janeway, along with Chakotay, was brought up to date on what Tuvok, B'Elanna and Seven had been working on. Neither the captain nor the first officer were pleased to have been left out of it until now.

"Why are you coming to us so late?" Janeway said in a voice that chilled the room. Seven was surprised the crew's breath wasn't suddenly crystalizing in the sub-zero temperature.

"We didn't have enough evidence to indicate sabotage," Tuvok said calmly. "Nor were we certain who, if anyone, it was directed at." Seven and B'Elanna were both glad he was the one having to do the talking.

"What happened to the captain was an accident?" the first officer asked keenly.

"More in the line of an innocent bystander who got caught in the line of fire," Tuvok corrected. "If she had called in the chief engineer as would normally be the case on bridge malfunctions, Lt. Torres would have taken the brunt of the explosion at the science station instead. This current incident indicates that she seems to be the target of this latest sabotage."

"I wish it had been me on the bridge," B'Elanna snarled as she stood up, pacing about the room angrily. Her fists were clenched. "This is cowardly. Who would be too afraid to face me like a warrior?"

"Practically anyone," Seven pointed out logically. "Other than myself and Tuvok, no one on the ship is capable of defeating you in a physical conflict."

B'Elanna glared at her, displeased at Seven's evaluation of the situation. She would rather be in an irrational rage, Seven thought idly. Is that a Klingon thing?

Janeway regarded B'Elanna pointedly, until the Klingon finally got the message and sat down again. "Who on the vessel would have a personal vendetta against you, Lieutenant?" the captain asked in that deceptively mild voice that they had all learned concealed a deep, personal fury.

B'Elanna growled softly. "Paris," she said promptly. "He's never gotten over the fact that I dumped him."

"He'd more apt to come after me," Chakotay pointed out dryly. "He never has. This may be hard for you to hear," he added, using the Klingon word for beloved, "but I think he's over you."

Seven noted that Janeway looked floored, whether from the fact that B'Elanna and Paris had apparently indulged in a romantic relationship, or the fact that Chakotay had just called B'Elanna such a tender name in front of everyone. The captain looked back and forth between them for a minute, then seemed to realize how much vulnerability she was revealing, and looked down at her padd on the conference table.

"What about Lt. James?" Seven offered suddenly. "Wasn't that Jeffries tube above the corridor where you..." She trailed off as she suddenly remembered that was supposed to be a secret, and that not everyone in the room knew about it.

"Told her off, shook my fist under her snooty little nose, and told her I'd kill her the next time she ticked me off?" B'Elanna finished, oblivious to the expressions crossing Chakotay and Janeway's faces. She looked honestly puzzled. "She wouldn't take that personally, would she? That was just, you know, woman-to-woman stuff."

"It was Lt. James' regular post that exploded, which gives her the opportunity to have set the trap," Tuvok noted calmly. "Expecting that it would be B'Elanna repairing the bridge station rather than the captain. However, opportunity and motive are not enough. We need evidence."

Janeway nodded finally, face thoughtful. "That's a good point, Tuvok," she said. She glanced at B'Elanna. "Tell me more about this 'woman-to-woman stuff'."

"She had a thing for Chakotay," B'Elanna said, shrugged. "When he and I ... got together, she started mouthing off about certain Klingon attributes. I cornered her one day and showed her a couple."

"You never told me this," Chakotay said, visibly upset.

B'Elanna was squirming with embarrassment. "It never came up?" she offered weakly.

The first officer stared at Seven, and the Borg felt like squirming herself. "You knew?" he asked.

"I was ... informed of it," she said uneasily.

He glared at the captain. "Which meant you knew as well," he accused.

Janeway looked at him, but didn't squirm. "Possibly," she said dryly. "But if so, I forgot."

Which cut through his anger, and served to sober the room as they remembered the seriousness of the situation, and the repercussions arising from it.

"This speculation is all well and good," Janeway said, "but Lt. James is only a suspect. This is a Starfleet officer we're talking about here, after all, and while I can't say I know her that well, I find it hard to believe anyone would suddenly go berserk with jealousy over Chakotay."

"Thank you," Chakotay said in a wounded tone.

"You know what I mean," she said, looking at him sternly.

Tuvok frowned. "Not at the moment," he said, trying to get things back on track. "Now that we have a prime suspect, however... "

"I can kill her," B'Elanna snarled.

"Belay that," Janeway cautioned. She glanced at her chief of security. "Tuvok, I want you to investigate this thoroughly. In the meantime, I want to be kept informed of any new findings immediately." She favored the rest of them with a raised eyebrow. "Dismissed."

The other three immediately vacated the conference room, though Seven lingered, wanting to speak with the captain. Janeway looked at her curiously.

"Did you wish me to prepare dinner tonight?" Seven said with a touch of irritation. It hadn't been what she had intended to say. She was worried for the captain, and had wanted to ask her to take care of herself but absurdly, this had slipped out instead. She didn't know why.

An odd expression crossed Janeway's face. "I didn't call, did I?" she replied in a quiet tone. She smiled wryly. "Up to my old tricks."

Seven was embarrassed. "My apologies, Captain, I forgot myself," she said softly. "I understand that there is no reason for you to inform me of your plans."

"No, you deserve the courtesy of knowing whether I'll be home for dinner," Janeway said gently. "Regardless of where our relationship is at the moment." She hesitated, seemed to be searching for something to say. "I know this is hard for you, Seven. The more logs I read, the more I realize how very difficult it must be. I know that as much as ... I felt for you, you must feel the same. All I can ask is for your continued patience."

"You have it," Seven replied, though her heart rippled painfully. The captain had 'felt' for her, had used the past tense as if she did not think she would ever feel the same again. For all Seven knew, Janeway never would. Seven tried very hard not to allow her feelings to show on her face.

"I have ... an astrometrics report," she said, lying to Kathryn for the first time in her life. She stood up. "I will be very late returning to our quarters."

"Very well," Janeway said quietly, staring at her.

Seven left the conference room, wanting to be gone before she revealed more than she thought would be good. She had reached cargo bay two before she realized where she was going, and she walked into the cavernous bay with a dazed sort of confusion.

Uncertainly, she moved over to the Borg alcoves which still remained, a faint greenish glow surrounding them, though most of their functions had been shut down now that she no longer needed to regenerate. Wearily, she sat down on the dais, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring blankly into the room.

What am I going to do? she thought miserably.

Janeway set her padd down gently on the night stand, the last of the personal logs finally complete. She noted wryly that she had neglected to make any new ones since her accident, and realized she would have to start soon. On the stand, beside the padds, there was a small, blue velvet box and her fingers rested on it momentarily. Inside, she knew, was a diamond ring, originally her mother's, given to Seven to give to the captain which the Borg had done on Janeway's birthday only weeks before. Starfleet regs required that personal jewelry, even engagement rings, were not to be worn on duty so it remained in its box most of the time. Janeway wondered if she had worn it much at all, though according to her logs, it had been a deeply touching moment when Seven had presented it to her, along with her proposal of marriage.

She took a breath, settling back onto the pillow, and was startled once more by her reflection in the mirror which loomed over her. She wondered uneasily if the damned thing was securely fastened, then felt her lips twitch as she remembered the log she had read regarding Seven's reaction the day maintenance had installed the thing. Janeway got the sense that she had enjoyed planning surprises for Seven as much as the Borg liked planning surprises for her.

Will we ever do that again? she asked herself sadly. Come up with outrageous schemes just so we can surprise each other? Will I ever feel for Seven what I so clearly did just a few weeks ago?

She wondered if Lt. James, if she indeed was the one behind the sabotage, understood what she had cost the captain and Seven. Or if she even cared.

The captain lowered the lights until there was only the dim illumination from the passing stars coming through the window above her head. The bed seemed far too large and much too cold for her to be able to sleep, but she knew she must. Tomorrow was another day, and undoubtedly would be as full as the previous ones had been.

She discovered she was listening for the door in the outer room, wondering if Seven would return soon. Though the Borg had started off with such hopeful optimism in the beginning, she was unable to keep her spirits up in the continued reality of Janeway's memory loss. As time went on, Seven continued to prepare dinner for them both every night, but discussion over the table was strained, and the Borg had begun to find reasons to leave the quarters immediately afterward, not returning until late in the evening.

At first, Janeway had been grateful for the space Seven offered as she caught up on her data, and became used to the way things were, but the captain discovered she felt real disappointment when Seven made her excuse to leave lately. She missed the young woman's presence, missed having her around the quarters with her, and she remembered that first evening where they had talked of wine as the one occasion which had been the most enjoyable since her accident. Janeway wanted to spend all her evenings like that, though so far, she had been unable to come up with the courage to tell Seven how she felt.

Janeway knew what it was she was supposed to feel for Seven. She knew what they had experienced, what they had gone through together both professionally and personally, but she simply couldn't connect it with herself. It was as if she was reading a story about some stranger's life. A raw, passionate, loving story, she thought dismally, but not hers. Someone else's. What she felt for Seven now was uncertain, confused, and she was unable to identify it precisely, let alone compare it to the great love she could no longer remember.

She heard the hiss of the outer door, and immediately closed her eyes. She didn't know why she pretended to be asleep when Seven came home, but she always did. Just as Seven always stood for a few moments in the doorway, looking at her in the darkness though how good Seven's enhanced night vision actually was, Janeway did not know. She herself could barely see the outline of the tall slender form through slitted eyelids, careful to keep her breathing deep and even. Then the woman drifted away, and Janeway heard her move about the living area, making up the couch, detecting the soft squeaks as she climbed into the bedding.

Jake would be waiting for Seven there, the captain knew. She had heard the scrabble of his paws across the carpet while Seven had been standing in the doorway, and the two times the captain had managed to get up before Seven, the puppy was inevitably ensconced in the spot next to the tall blonde, between the crook of Seven's right arm and her rib cage, his head resting either on her shoulder, or, in the event he had turned around, on her belly. Janeway had found it incredibly touching, and suspected she would have found it even more so had she full access to her memories of the cool, aloof, contained woman.

Somehow she finally managed to drift off to sleep, the image of a curvaceous form, of the blonde hair and pale, ice-blue eyes threading irrevokable through her mind.

The tall Borg was garbed in a black leather outfit, the body armor covering her from the neck down, a thick material which displayed the new implants the nanoprobes had reactivated. The beautiful long blonde hair was gone, leaving a bald scalp dotted with black and silver circuitry, while Seven's skin had regained its whitened hue, a thin layer of moisture from the humid air covering it. The humanoid left eye the Doctor had created had been replaced with a solid ruby gem and the beam of light which emanated from it traced the length of Janeway from the top of her head to the tips of her boots, then over to rake Tuvok with chilling detachment. Janeway knew they were being scanned, analyzed, identified.
The thick air had a debilitating affect, leaving their hair limp and dripping, while dark patches spread from under their arms and down the front of their outfits. It was hard to breathe and Janeway's chest felt heavy.
"Seven?" she asked, her voice a croak of uncertainty.
"I shall assimilate this one," Seven said.
With disbelief, Janeway watched Seven take a step toward her and she could not help crying out as she was gripped by a hand which raised her head, baring her throat.
"Annika, what are you doing?" she said. "Please, fight this."
She looked deep into Seven's red-rimmed pale eyes, seeking something, anything, that would give her a sense of the woman she had know. The gaze met hers squarely, and Janeway felt a soul-deep horror overwhelm her as she looked into a face that held no mercy, no compassion.
No love.
She struggled as twin tubules speared out of Seven's left hand and felt sharp agony as they punched into her neck, injecting her with nanoprobes. Terror gripped her as her body was suddenly not her own, and a duller pain flared in her face as a starburst implant erupted from her right cheek. Her mind was flooded with voices, so many voices, which cascaded into her brain, instantly suppressing her resistance, her fury.
Then Kathryn Janeway was no more.

Janeway screamed, sitting straight up in the bed, drew breath to scream again and cut it off as she realized it had only been a dream. Or a memory. In either case, it left her sweating, and terrified, taking her a few moments before she realized she was not alone, before she became aware of the woman who was next to her, holding her, soothing her.

"It is all right, Kathryn," Seven whispered. "I am right here."

Janeway supposed that at this point, she should push the woman away, letting her know that she was finally awake, and once more in control. Instead she wrapped her arms around the tall woman's neck and clung to her, hugging her as tightly as she could. She buried her face in the soft hollow of Seven's throat and shoulder, letting her tears flow freely, all the fear, the doubt, the terror cascading out of her in this uncontrolled weeping. The young woman rocked her, rubbing her back gently and more than once, Janeway felt the warm brush of lips across her forehead, at her temple, on the top of her head.

Finally, the tears stopped, but Janeway refused to let go. It was Seven that finally loosened the embrace, drawing back until she was sitting on the edge of the bed a few feet away. The lights had been brought up, Janeway noted, and she blinked hard to clear her vision, sniffing audibly as she looked at Seven. The Starfleet-issued grey pyjamas did absolutely nothing for the woman, the captain thought idly but the rest was spectacular. The blonde hair hung tousled about the fine features which were sharp with concern, while the eyes, normally so light, were dark and shadowed, the pupils large, leaving only a narrow circle of blue. The full lips were trembling ever so slightly, and Seven didn't seem to know what to do with her hands.

"Are you all right, Captain?" she asked formally.

"I ..." Janeway began then stopped, aghast at how weak her voice was. She swallowed hard and tried again. "It was a nightmare." She hesitated, searching the face, seeing nothing of the Borg in her dream, and everything of the woman she had come to know through the captain's logs. "No, I think it was a memory."

"Not a good one, apparently," Seven noted. She looked very concerned.

"No," Janeway agreed, then managed a faint grin. "Perhaps the large traumatic ones have to show up before the smaller, more wonderful ones do?"

"Perhaps," Seven agreed slowly. There was a pause as they gazed at each other, then Seven looked away. "If you are all right, I must return to the other room," she said softly.

"No," Janeway said, surprising herself as she reached out to wrap her fingers tightly about the woman's wrist, but even as she did, she knew this was right. Seven's eyes turned to meet hers, uncertainty clouding them, and the captain smiled reassuringly. "We normally don't sleep in separate rooms, do we?"

Seven regarded her for long moments, various emotions chasing across her face. Janeway wondered if Seven knew how obvious some of her expressions were.

"No," the Borg admitted finally, softly. "We do not."

"Stay with me," Janeway requested. "I want you to sleep with me."

Seven was clearly reluctant, but the captain realized it was only because the Borg thought she should be. The truth was, Seven wanted to accede to this request so much that Janeway could see the ache in her gaze. "Come on," the captain insisted gently, pulling Seven into the bed with her.

The Borg could have easily resisted, could have stopped it all with merely a word, but she did not. Instead, she slipped between the sheets next to the captain, lying stiffly on her back as Janeway settled next to her. Bringing the lights down with a soft command, Janeway carefully put her head on Seven's shoulder, resting her hand on the woman's chest, feeling the flutter of heartbeat through the thin material of the Borg's pyjamas. Obscurely, Janeway was pleased that she had worn a nightgown of deep sapphire, not knowing why, just glad that she had chosen it.

Gradually, the body next to her relaxed, and Janeway felt the woman's left arm slide tentatively around her. She sighed and snuggled closer, feeling drowsiness slip over her.

"Good night, Annika," she said softly.

"Good night ... Kathryn," Seven responded quietly.

Janeway smiled and went to sleep.

Janeway woke up in pleasant warmth, sprawled on her belly across something that was not as smooth as a mattress, but managed to be as comfortable. She blinked sleepily, then realized she was laying on top of Seven's back, the blonde woman turned away from her, though if the captain raised her head a little, she had a perfect view of that elegant profile, the one delicate ear surrounded by golden strands of hair. Before she had quite realized what she was doing, Janeway had brushed her lips over the shell-like curve of it, feeling a quiver go through the body beneath her.

She took another look at the profile, and realized the eyes were half open. She wondered how long Seven had been awake, remaining perfectly still as the captain snoozed away on top of her. Even now she was waiting patiently for Janeway to move, to roll off, not indicating how very difficult this must be for her.

Janeway felt a wave of tenderness rush through her, and she bent down again, gently kissing the long line of neck, feeling the pulse throb under her mouth. Then she kissed Seven again, tracing the very soft spot where jaw met earlobe.

"Don't," Seven whispered. "Please."

Startled, Janeway hesitated, looking down at her. Seven was very still, but as Janeway watched, a tiny tear slipped between the sandy lashes of the eye framed with the metallic implant, and slid down the curve of her cheek. Janeway felt her heart catch, and impulsively she leaned forward and captured the tear on one fingertip.

"I'm sorry, Annika," Janeway whispered. She kissed her temple lightly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

Seven's eyes closed and she shivered, breathing deeply. "I know," she said. "It still does, however."

Disconcerted, Janeway drew back as Seven moved then, the young woman uncoiling from the bed and darting into the ensuite. The captain lay on her side, raised up on her elbow as she tried to organize her thoughts, tried to comprehend not only what she was feeling, but what she should say to Seven. Unfortunately, the Borg did not grant her the time needed to figure it out, abruptly exiting the ensuite completely dressed, doing up the last of her coiffure at the back of her neck.

She hesitated as she saw Janeway gazing at her. "I must report to astrometrics," she said coolly, but the captain could hear the underlying quaver in her voice. "Will you feed Jake? His nutritional supplement is already programmed in."

"Of course," Janeway replied softly. "Seven, listen..."

But Seven was already striding rapidly out through the outer living area, the door leading to the corridor sliding shut behind her with a muted hiss of finality. Janeway slumped back onto her pillows, covering her eyes with her arms.

"Damn," she said succinctly.

She took several deep breaths, trying to bring her racing heart under control, then finally got up. The puppy seemed somewhat stunned to see the captain feeding him, and he looked uncertainly at her before chewing his breakfast gingerly. She made a face at him, and returned to the ensuite where she showered and dressed quickly. She paused in the outer room, wondering what she was forgetting, then realized that neither her breakfast nor the thermos of coffee had been prepared. Obviously, she had shaken the young woman's composure considerably.

Can I blame her? she chastised herself. My god, I practically jumped on her with no warning. What the hell did I think I was doing?

She considered her actions gloomily all the way to deck one, greeting her staff absently as the regular meeting of department heads took place in the conference room. Her thoughts chased each other round and round, rather like Jake after his tail, and she was uncertain what it was she was trying so hard to grasp. When it did come to her, it was like a flash of enlightenment, occurring in the middle of the Doctor's report which she had not been listening to at all, content that her padd would record it. She straightened abruptly, inadvertently making a sound halfway between a yip and a stifled laugh.

Startled, her bridge crew looked at her, and she smiled at them weakly. "Clearing my throat," she said.

They did not believe her, but clearly did not want to pursue it, so the meeting continued, the interruption being overlooked for which Janeway was profoundly grateful. When the briefing finally ended, she asked that B'Elanna stay behind. Apprehensively, the engineer did so, frowning as the captain made her request. She protested, but when Janeway unbent enough to explain some of what she had in mind, the Klingon grudgingly agreed to take on the responsibility, promising to pick up her charge by mid-afternoon.

Janeway logged off duty a few hours early, ignoring Chakotay's quizzical look. She wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do, but it was better than waiting around. Patience had never been her strong suit, and action was always preferable to allowing things to happen at their own pace. She felt the need to push them along, knowing that sometimes that all a situation required was a little boost from an unexpected source to reach a resolution.

When she finished up the preparations in her quarters early, however, she found she was pacing restlessly, the doubts having time to settle in as she awaited Seven's arrival. She forced herself to pause by the work area, leaning in what she hoped was a casual manner against the desks, arms across her chest. A part of her wondered if she might not be jumping the gun yet again. On the other hand, there was no question that she and Seven could not continue to carry on the way they were. If something was not done, and soon, it was possible the repercussions could be devastating.

Of course, she thought uneasily as the door to her quarters hissed open, the consequences of this might be equally as dicey.

Seven stopped dead as she entered the room, looking around with confusion at the candles spread in profusion over counters and tables, at the holographic image of a fireplace crackling warmly from the wall where the dining table usually sat. The dining table itself had been collapsed, and was leaning against the hull, tucked under a nearby shelf, while the chairs had been stacked neatly behind the desks in the work area. In front of the faux fire, which actually emanated heat, there was a low table filled with plates of finger foods, along with a bottle of wine. Several cushions had been piled on the floor, providing a comfortable place to sit or recline.

Janeway felt Seven's eyes rake her up and down, no doubt taking in the brief top and gauzy trousers, doing her best not to flush hotly under the sardonic gaze. Deliberately, Seven straightened, linking her hands formally behind her back as she tilted her head so that her metallic eyepiece was closest to the smaller woman.

"Captain?" she said, a wealth of question in the tone.

"Seven," Janeway said, forcing a smile to cover her nervousness. "I decided it was my turn to make dinner tonight."

"You cooked?" Seven's voice was clearly disbelieving.

"I replicated," Janeway said dryly. "But I did do the programming all by myself."

She kicked herself mentally as Seven seemed to flinch. Easy on the sarcasm Katie, she thought. You need to take this slow, treat the woman as if she were a frightened animal that had to be tamed carefully before .... what exactly?

Janeway hadn't worked that out yet, but she knew she had to convince Seven not to run before she even got started. "I do appreciate Mother's recipes," she said softly. "Sometimes, however, I get the craving for other types of food, both from Earth, and from other cultures in the Alpha Quadrant." Taking Seven's hand, Janeway led her over to the cushions, and at her direction, the Borg sank uncertainly onto the most comfortable one, crossing her long legs under her.

"You do?" Clearly this was news to Seven.

"It was probably taking me a while to get around to sharing that," Janeway said easily as she knelt beside Seven, positioning herself on her knees between the young woman, and the table. "After four years of Neelix's cooking, most likely I was so grateful for yours that I hadn't gotten so far as to say I like alien cuisine as well. Truly Seven, I believe there are things about me that you don't know."

"I am beginning to believe that as well," Seven said slowly. She glanced around. "Where is Jake?"

"B'Elanna is keeping him tonight," Janeway said. "Obviously I couldn't have served this type of cuisine in the traditional manner if he were around."

Seven looked at the low table which was barely six inches off the deck, exactly the right height for a puppy to graze at will. "Obviously," she agreed. She looked the Janeway with bemusement. "I still do not understand why you are doing this," she said.

"Because you've prepared dinner for me many times," Janeway responded gently. "I wished to return the gesture."

Seven considered that, then drew back in surprise as Janeway offered her a morsel from one of the plates. Janeway could see the whites rimming the blonde's pale eyes as she looked first at it, then at her.

"With this type of cuisine," Janeway explained gently. "It is customary for the hostess ... that's me ... to feed the guest by hand."

Seven just stared at her. "What culture is this cuisine from?" she asked.

"Orion Traders," Janeway replied guilelessly. "With the food adapted for our more Human sensibilities, of course."

"I am unfamiliar with the Orion culture," Seven said, frowning.

"Good ... I mean, it's good to be exposed to new things now and again, isn't it?" Janeway asked. She had been afraid that Seven would point out that she wasn't green, among other objections.

"Yes," Seven said slowly, then gingerly accepted the morsel, carefully taking it between her teeth. She chewed it slowly, staring at Janeway the entire time as if she had never seen her before.

"Do you like it?" Janeway asked gently.

"It is very good," Seven allowed. She accepted the next meat filled pastry with less apprehension, and then another. She hesitantly allowed Janeway to hold the glass of wine to her lips where she could sip it. "I do not understand this culture," she complained after a few moments. "What is the purpose of dining this way?"

"It's a way for two people to get to know each other better," Janeway told her.  "I need to get to know you better, Seven ... especially since we're living together."

Seven frowned at that, but Janeway ignored her expression, continuing to feed Seven from the table, taking portions for herself now and again. She drank from the same wineglass as Seven, making sure that the younger woman saw her lick a few drops from the rim. Her fingers started to linger at Seven's mouth as she fed her, taking the opportunity to trace the lips gently with her fingertips. Seven grew steadily disquieted, especially when Janeway moved closer until she was just behind her, only a breath between them.

"What are you doing?" Seven asked finally, huskily.

"Getting to know you again," Janeway repeated. She let her lips casually brush over Seven's neck, just above the collar of the brown mesh outfit.

Seven shivered. "This is wrong,"" she said unhappily. "You do not remember me. You do not remember us."

"No," Janeway said and dared to reach her arm across Seven's chest, resting her chin on the slender shoulder. "I don't. Annika, we have to accept that I may never remember, but in the meantime, it's tearing you up inside, and making me crazy. I believe I know why I fell in love with you the first time. I definitely know why I'm so attracted to you now." She hesitated. "I just want to learn how to love you again, Annika. Is that wrong?"

Seven was silent for long moments, head bent. "It is not wrong," she admitted softly. "But it is unexpected."

Janeway pulled Seven to her in a gentle hug. "Darling, I want to be with you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Seven said.

"I'm telling you now," Janeway said huskily. She took a breath. "Do you still love me?"

Seven seemed to shiver. "I never stopped," she said in a choked voice. "I will always love you."

"Then help me learn how to love you again, Annika," Janeway said humbly. "Let me make my mistakes all over again, and be wrong more times than I'm right, and put up with me when I'm grumpy and neglectful, always knowing I'll never once stop needing you with all I am." Gently, she kissed Seven's ear. "You hold my heart, Annika. Please, help me find it again."

Seven did not move, did not speak for what seemed an eternity.

"Yes," she said finally. "I will help you."

Janeway closed her eyes in relief. "Thank you, darling," she whispered.

Seven turned around, and Janeway wrapped her arms around her, snuggling into the lean, lanky body. Hesitantly, Seven stroked her hair. "Kathryn, what if you ... what if you cannot?" she said softly.

"Cannot what?" Janeway said, putting her hand up to touch Seven's cheek, cupping it warmly in her palm, straightening so that she could look into the young woman's narrow features.

"What if you cannot learn to love me again?" Seven asked, eyes wide with apprehension.

Janeway laughed softly. "Darling, I'm half in love with you already," she told her. "Please believe me when I tell you that, Annika. Trust me when I say I don't have too much farther to fall."

Seven considered that. "Why?" she asked.

Janeway blinked. "I don't understand the question," she said.

Seven looked away. "I never understood why you loved me in the first place," she said in a small voice.

Janeway smiled gently. "Oh, Annika, there are so many wonderful things about you," she said, nuzzling her chin. "I have no doubt that they were the same reasons I'm attracted to you now. Your incredible mind, that wonderful intellect that so challenges and intrigues me. That warm, loving nature that looks after stray puppies and lost Starfleet captains even as you pretend it's simply the most efficient way to function. The way you totally support me even as you never let me get away with a thing." She put her finger under Seven's chin, turning her face so that the younger woman was once more looking into her eyes. "Do you know that your beautiful face lights up when you see me even though you think you're being totally impassive. Then looks so hurt when it seems I don't notice you. Annika, I always notice you. I was always aware of your existence, even though I didn't remember you."

When Seven did not react much to this admission, Janeway slipped her arms around the Borg's neck and kissed her, just a gentle exploration, an unsure foray by the captain to familiarize herself with the younger woman's mouth again. Seven kissed her back with extreme care, arms holding her lightly, as if afraid the captain would suddenly disappear if she tried to grasp her any tighter.

Janeway laughed throatily as they parted. "Annika, I don't know how I know this, but I'm positive you can do better than that."

Seven took a breath. "Yes," she admitted. "I can."

She pressed her lips to Janeway's, putting her whole heart into it, as well as a focused intent that shut the rest of the universe completely out of existence. Janeway was astounded, amazed and completely overwhelmed by the kiss, feeling her toes actually curl from the sensation. When Seven finally released her, Janeway had to take a second to find her voice.

"Well," Janeway said with shaky satisfaction. "That was more like it."

"Kathryn," Seven said, and there was a odd timber to the name that made Janeway actually quiver from just the sound of it. She caught Seven's gaze in her own, staring deep into the pupils which had expanded, leaving only a sliver of blue around them.

"Yes?" Janeway responded, a lot less certainty in her tone now.

"What would you like me to teach you first?" the Borg asked.

Janeway's lips twitched. "If I wanted to remove that outfit of yours," she queried gently. "How would I go about it exactly?  Just for future reference, you understand."

"The fastening is at the base of my neck," Seven told her, raising an eyebrow. "It opens down the back."

"That's all I need to know for now," Janeway said politely, and pulled the blonde head down for another one of those all absorbing, totally earthshattering, kisses.

Seven didn't know how long they spend kissing passionately in front of the fireplace, but gradually she realized that there was an insistency about Janeway that was not right. At first Seven had been more than glad to return the urgent caresses, but after a time, it felt just a bit too desperate, and Seven decided that perhaps they needed to slow things down a bit. She had the impression that Janeway was pressing too hard, trying to recapture everything at once.  Somehow, Seven knew that was not the correct thing to do, and she finally managed to deflect Janeway's advances into a snuggled embrace on the cushions.

"Annika," Janeway said softly, once she understood what Seven was doing. "Don't you want to...?"

"Yes, Kathryn," Seven replied quietly, holding her tighter.  "I do ... more than anything ... but I do not think it can be tonight. You are not ready, and neither am I."

Janeway was silent for a long time, confusion shading her eyes to grey, and Seven was afraid that she had not phrased it properly, that she had destroyed what she had been trying so hard to preserve.  Finally, Janeway sighed.  "I think you're right," she admitted softly. "I guess I was jumping the gun after all."  She looked intently at Seven.  "Please, don't give up on me," she said, face pleading.

Seven blinked, startled. "I will never give up on you," Seven promised her. "I will always love you, Kathryn. That will never change."

"I won't give up either," Kathryn said, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against Seven's. "I'll make it back to you, Annika. I swear I will."

"I will be here," Seven assured her. She touched the captain's cheek gently. "Kathryn, it is all right."

"Is it?" Janeway asked bleakly. "I want to be with you, Annika. I need to be with you.... I know I'm trying too hard, Annika, but I feel as if I don't grab it right now, it will slip through my fingers." She met Seven's eyes. "Then, I'll lose you."

"You will not lose me," Seven told her earnestly. "Kathryn, I thought I should stay away until you had adapted to me again, but I understand now that it was wrong to deal with the situation in that manner. We must both take our time with this, be very careful with it.  It is too precious a thing to rush and possibly mishandle, but Kathryn, we can still be together.  When it is right for us to make love, we will know."

Janeway exhaled, and relaxed marginally in her arms.  "You're right," she said finally. She managed a wry grin. "My mother always told me I was too impatient. I guess I need to listen to that advice and not try to force this."

"I believe that would be best," Seven said with an odd sort of relief.  She hugged Janeway tightly, and kissed her on the forehead.  "I do love you, Kathryn ... with everything I am."

"I believe you," Janeway said. She hesitated.  "Will you sleep in the bed with me, at least?"

"I think that would be an important lesson in learning how to be close again," Seven said, considering it very seriously. "Particularly in getting to know each other better."

Janeway's lips twitched.  "Then I'll settle for that," she said. She smiled. "In the meantime, will you kiss me some more?"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "Of course," she said.

Pulling Kathryn to her, she kissed her as deeply as she could, somehow knowing things would be all right. No matter how much time it took.

Jake sighed, resting his head on his paws as he lay in his puppy bed. He could not sleep because this wasn't home. Of course, home had not exactly been home lately either. His people were so unhappy, orbiting around each other like competing predators rather than the pack members they were. He did not understand what had happened, only that things had changed, and where once there had been a unity of purpose, now his pack was splintered.

Abruptly he had been handed it over the bristly female, this 'B'Elanna'. She didn't really have bristles of course, nor quills, but that was how he felt around her, though she did try to be kind to him, and fed him all sorts of things that he knew his large person would not approve of.

His large person. His brown eyes grew moist. 'Seven' was her name, an oddly harsh designation for someone he knew as so warm and loving. She had been very distant in recent memory. Was it possible that his people, his 'Seven' and the other, smaller person, would not come back for him? That he was to stay here forever? It would not be the first time he had been taken from all he had known, taken away from his mother by the one who resembled his small person, though there had been an undefinable difference between the two.

That thought disquieted him, and he raised his head mournfully. Seven had been absent more and more recently, and though she always took him into her bed with her when she did come home, he could sense her deep unhappiness, felt her tears wet his coat night after night, and could do nothing to make it better, all his licks and sympathetic whines notwithstanding. Though his smaller one still played with him, she received no joy from it as she had before ... so he did not either.

The smaller one had two names, he knew. 'Captain'. Or 'Kathryn'. When Seven said 'Captain', it was all cool and remote, as if she felt nothing for the woman. When she said 'Kathryn', however, it was filled with such love and emotion that it inevitably made his tail wag when he heard it. He thought it would make the smaller one's tail wag as well, if she had one.

Seven had not said 'Kathryn' for a long time.

His pack was being destroyed, and he could do nothing. He wanted to whimper, to howl out his agony, but he did not. B'Elanna did not like it when he howled and her voice had a very unpleasant rasp when she yelled. She did yell. Frequently. So instead, he slumped back down onto his bed and felt very, very bad.

The soft hiss of the door opening made his ears flick, and with a vague interest, he raised his head, looking at the place where the stranger entered, moving stealthily through the room. He sniffed, trying to recognize the scent. Female. Human.

Frightened, and dangerously so.

He cowered, ears lowered as he heard the soft tread of footsteps. It was headed to the room where he knew his present keeper was sleeping. Somehow, he understood this newcomer was a threat, not to him, but to B'Elanna. The bristly one was not entirely of his pack, but his pack accepted her as a necessary part of their world. It would not be good to lose her.

Uncertainly he dashed out, barking as loudly as his young vocal cords could afford. There was confusion then, as he somehow ran under the feet of the stranger, he yelped as a foot impacted solidly with his ribs, kicking him aside. He yelped, limping over to hide beneath the table, blinking in the sudden light.

B'Elanna stood in the bedroom doorway, dressed in a brief, sheer black gown. Her eyes were hot as she glared at the stranger, lips drawn back over her teeth in a snarl.

"You want a piece of me?" B'Elanna growled at the startled, and now on the defensive, Angela James, though the science officer was armed with a phaser while the Klingon had no weapons at all.

Jake did not understand the words of course, but he appreciated the snarl, encouraging him to provide one of his own, his upper lip drawing back over his still growing baby canines. There was more confusion as the phaser suddenly went off, but B'Elanna was already moving, and it missed her, though not the vase behind her which exploded quite nicely. Excited, Jake dashed into the room and again got tangled up, this time with B'Elanna, though thankfully, she did not kick him. Instead, she fell over him, crashing to the deck with a resounding thud which echoed throughout the small room.

A real predator would have taken advantage of B'Elanna's momentary weakness ... the gown was up around her head, obscuring her vision ... but the stranger took one look at the otherwise naked, firmly muscled form, and fled, running for her life out the door. Cursing, B'Elanna got herself straightened around and pounded after her, yelling loudly for the computer to contact Tuvok, the captain, Chakotay, and Kahless himself if he happened to be in the area.

Jake was hard at her heels, yipping in response and keeping his eyes on B'Elanna as they ran through these long tunnels. He recognized this odd place as one where he had been before, but never without his leash. He was tremendously thrilled at the freedom he was suddenly being allowed. B'Elanna was brought up short in the juncture of a cross corridor, staring up one, then the other, trying to see which way her prey had went. Jake shot her a confused glance. Couldn't she smell that the intruder had gone this way?

Barking loudly, he slid around the corner and plunged down the new corridor, gratified when B'Elanna followed, overtaking him when they caught sight of a heel disappearing into the turbolift. Jake scrambled eagerly after his quarry, suddenly hearing a struggle ahead, brief and to the point and as he skidded to a stop, he was absolutely gratified to see his people. Seven had the intruder by the neck with her Borg enhanced left hand, holding James a good two feet off the ground while Kathryn had B'Elanna backed against the wall, holding her back with a forearm across her upper chest.

"That's enough, Lieutenant," she snapped loudly, and finally B'Elanna ceased in her attempt to get at the woman. The captain looked at her partner. "Seven, ease up on your grip, she's turning blue."

Jake promptly sat down, watching all this with bright eyes, ears perked alertly. This was more excitement than he could ever remember experiencing, and best of all, his nose was telling him that things were suddenly all right. Kathryn had Seven's scent smeared all over her, while Seven was literally reeking of Kathryn. Jake knew what that meant. They had been playing together in that odd little way where they cuddled very close and put their mouths together.

When they did it in the living area where he could see them, it looked like so much fun that he had often tried to join in, usually interrupting them though they never seemed to mind.  Once however, they had been doing it on the couch and it had changed in intensity.  They suddenly began to remove their outer coverings, pressing their bare flesh against each other and making strange sounds.  These sounds had startled and confused him, making him leap up onto the side of the couch where he inadvertently nipped the one on top in the fleshiest part of her buttock, making her scream so loud that he had immediately bolted, tail between his legs, cowering under the desk. He remained hidden as she had leaped to her feet, protesting verbally at great length while the one still laying the couch had laughed until she cried.

After that, the two females always retired to their bedroom and closed the door when their playing grew intense, but he always knew that no matter what else, when they played together, it meant they were happy both with themselves and each other.

If his people were happy, then he was happy.  His tail thumped a steady tatoo on the deck, jaws parted in an ecstatic grin.  Perhaps now they would once again concentrate on what was really important.

Feeding and loving him.

"Seven, let her go," Janeway repeated.

Seven did not seem inclined to obey her order, and Janeway had to say it again, injecting her voice with the sharp whip of command. Seven glanced at her, and Janeway felt a shiver go through her at the cold expression in the pale eyes, but finally the Borg seemed to come back to herself, and she released her captive, allowing the brunette lieutenant to collapse to the ground where she curled, gasping for air.

Chakotay suddenly appeared, wearing only pyjama bottoms, his feet and broad chest bare. Behind him was Tuvok with a full security team. If Vulcans were capable of embarrassment, then he would be prostrate with humiliation, Janeway thought. As it was, his skin was darker than Janeway had ever seen before, and she raised an eyebrow. She did not know her chief of security could flush like that.

"Captain," he said with difficulty. "I must apologize. She slipped our surveillance."

"Why are you apologizing to the captain?" B'Elanna yelped. "I was the one the bitch tried to kill."

"Well, she won't be trying again," Janeway said darkly, frowning as she watched them take the young Starfleet officer into custody. She held up a hand, postponing their dragging her away. "Why?" she asked, looking into the woman's wild eyes.

"What choice did I have?" James said bitterly. "Your pet Klingon threatened my life. I couldn't go to Chakotay. He was screwing her. I couldn't go to you. She was your woman's best friend. You'd let her get away with murder. I had to protect myself."

Janeway blinked. "I don't know how you came to such a conclusion," she said harshly. "But you made the wrong decision."

"I'm still alive," Angela said.

"Not for long," B'Elanna spat.

"Belay that," Janeway thundered, her patience at an end. She glared at B'Elanna, and it seemed that her engineer realized she had gone too far, paling slightly. Janeway rarely raised her voice. That made it all the more effective when the time came that she finally had to. She took a breath, composing herself as she turned back to James. "You'll have a chance to tell your side in a general court martial."

"At least you can't just let her kill me," James said with satisfaction. "Too many witnesses now."

Tuvok made a motion with his head and his security team took her away. Janeway looked at B'Elanna who was still fuming, hands balled into fists, arms half raised as if preparing to fight. Chakotay was standing next to her, hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

"She's nuts, you know," the Klingon complained.

"Possibly," Janeway agreed, but she was troubled just the same. She shook her head, dismissing it for the moment, and looked at Seven who was standing motionless, hands at her sides. Her face was impassive, but her eyes glittered.

"She almost killed you," she said flatly when she saw the captain looking at her.

"But she didn't," Janeway reminded her gently. "Even if she had, she still has to face Starfleet justice. Not Klingon. Not Borg."

Seven took a breath then, and seemed to relax though her posture changed very little. "I will comply," she said. Accepting, but not submissive. A promise of loyalty, not given but earned, though how Janeway realized that, she didn't know.

Jake barked then and scrambled up to her. Janeway frowned and knelt down. "What are you doing out?" she said.

B'Elanna brightened. "He actually warned me," she told the captain. "If his barking hadn't woken me, James would have had a clean shot. He helped track her down."

"Indeed," Janeway said and despite the situation, smiled. She picked him up, and he snuggled happily in her arms as if knowing everything was all right now. He licked her face and she turned her head, embarrassed to be seen like this.

"By the way, Seven," B'Elanna noted then. "That's one hell of a robe."

Janeway looked at Seven and realized the robe that the Borg had grabbed on the way out the door was far too small for her. The black silk restrained the full bosom with difficulty, and the hem barely came down her thigh. When she had been holding James up in the air, it was entirely possible that the robe would have ridden up considerably.

Janeway had not noticed at the time, and she certainly hoped no one else had either. She knew full well that Seven wore nothing beneath the brief garment, having been in the middle of her ablutions in the bathroom when the call had come in. Janeway was much better off, already in bed with her nightgown on, and the robe she had grabbed was far more conservative, a pale blue terrycloth which covered her from neck to ankles.

Seven regarded the engineer evenly. "It is adequate for its purpose," she said. "As yours appears to be."

B'Elanna took a look down as if just now realizing that she was clad only in a thin nightie that left little to the imagination. She flushed hotly, and Janeway was hard pressed not to smile as the Klingon crossed her arms firmly over her chest, trying not to look too self-conscious.

Eyes suddenly dancing, Seven nodded at Jake still being held by the captain. "Shall I retrieve his bed from B'Elanna's?"

"I think so," Janeway agreed. "He might as well come home, too."

She and Seven exchanged warm glances, then the Borg and B'Elanna went off to get Jake's stuff. Janeway looked at Chakotay, taking in his mussed, sleepy, ruggedly handsome appearance, very aware of her own informal attire. "I can't help thinking that at one time, this sight would have raised a few eyebrows regarding our relationship," she said dryly.

He raked his hand through his hair which did not serve to tidy it at all. "Once," he agreed with a half grin. Then he  sobered, changing the subject. "This might be bad, Kathryn."

"Lt. James, you mean," she said quietly. She nodded. "I'm worried that she may have had a point. B'Elanna admitted that she did threaten her life. You and I both know that doesn't mean anything necessarily, but would Lt. James?"

"She should have handled it differently," he said.

"Yes, she should have," Janeway agreed. "But she didn't. The question is, however, did she have any justification for acting as she did?"

"She almost killed you," he said, staring at her.

"I know," she said. "Which means I cannot act as Judge Advocate in this case. Neither can you because of your involvement with B'Elanna. Who will?"

He inhaled, seemed about to answer when they heard Seven and B'Elanna returning. The captain and first officer exchanged significant looks, and with unspoken agreement, put it on the back burner for the time being. They said their goodnights, then she and Seven headed for home while Chakotay went off with B'Elanna. Janeway wondered idly if he would spend the night with B'Elanna, and immediately suppressed that thought, decided that she was being entirely too nosy for her own good. Once she and Seven had returned to their quarters, she lowered Jake to the deck, realizing too late that it hadn't been a particularly wise move as he made a beeline for the leftover food on the low table.

"Jake," she protested.

He eyed her as if to ask what her problem was though he did not pause in his gobbling down of the bite-sized pastries and cheeses. Wasn't he a hero? Didn't he deserve this?

Seven put a hand on Janeway's shoulder, restraining her as the captain moved toward him. "He needs to celebrate as well," she said. The younger woman moved closer, slipping her arms around the captain's waist and put her mouth to Janeway's ear. "Doesn't he?" she whispered.

Janeway leaned back into the embrace. "Do you think he knows?" she asked.

"That we are together again?" Seven said. "I believe he can tell that we are happy now, where before, we were not."

Janeway took a breath. She hadn't thought about Jake being able to sense that she and Seven had resolved things, in a matter of speaking. She found it pleased her. She turned around and slipped her arms around Seven's neck. "Take me to bed, darling," she requested. "I believe I am ready for my next lesson in learning how to love you."

Seven smiled and pulled her close.

"I will teach you everything I know," she promised. "No matter how long it takes."

Epilogue

Personal log, Kathryn Janeway recording:

Lt. Angela James has been confined to the brig, and preparations continue for her court martial. I admit I am very uneasy about this. Not only have we have never held one in the entire five years we have been lost in the Delta Quadrant, it also seems that James may have something of a case. However, because I was an injured party in her crimes, I am unable to act in an official capacity. Nor is Chakotay. I don't know who that leaves to act as a fair and impartial Judge. James has requested, surprisingly, that Harry Kim act as her advocate. On the other hand, I don't know why I'm surprised. Harry is a good, solid, honest man, and he will do his best by her. Perhaps I'm just surprised he accepted.

My memory did not miraculously restore itself after Annika and I came to terms with each other, but there have been various flashes and images which come to me while I'm working or relaxing, triggered by whatever I'm doing. Sometimes, I even remember things without knowing I have until someone points out that the event happened before my accident, but after those events of three years ago. The Doctor says this is very promising, and that there may still be a good chance I shall one day remember everything. Other times I fear that I shall never remember at all. Still, I have the official records, my personal logs, and most of all, Annika to fill in any gaps that remain. It must be enough for now.

I worry sometimes that what I feel for her is not the same as what I felt before. Yet, I know in my heart that however it was originally, it could not be more than this all consuming passion that fills my heart. I also realize that Seven and I agreed not to rush things, and that it is merely a matter of time before we consummate this relationship, butI must say, I don't know how much longer I can wait. It is becoming extremely difficult to lay beside Annika night after night, and do nothing. Snuggling is all very pleasant, but surely it's time to elevate the intensity a little. I wonder how she would react if I were to start sleeping without a nightgown? Perhaps, I shall try that tonight. Surely, she is not made of stone ... or even metal ... all the way through.

Jake continues to grow like a weed. The size of his paws tells me he's going to be a big dog someday. Seven keeps trying to convince me to let him sleep with us, and I have to point out that eventually he is going to be much too large to fit comfortably in the bed with us. It wouldn't be fair to let him in, and then make him sleep on the floor. She looks very confused when I say this. I don't know why.

The person I was three years ago, the one I remember fully, no longer exists and I can't say in all honesty that I miss her. I'm happy now. I don't think I ever managed that beyond a brief moment here and there during those years. Yet we continue to be lost in the Delta Quadrant and I continue to have the responsibility of getting this ship and crew home intact. However, the burden seems lighter now.

Perhaps because I now have someone to hold me up when it becomes too heavy.

The End

•  This is the 10th in the Just Between series. It was written around the end of November, and posted the first of December, 1998, shortly before the events in Timeless.

• To all my readers, a heartfelt thank you for all your kind comments, encouragement and plot ideas.

Just Between Right & Wrong
G. L. Dartt

Rubbing her gritty eyes irritably with her forefinger and thumb, Captain Kathryn Janeway of the starship Voyager took a deep breath, then looked toward the front of the bridge where Lt. Tom Paris was covering the helm. Beyond him, the large viewscreen stretching across the bulkhead revealed the image of thick dust, and glowing radiation of the nebula, in which the vessel was currently hiding. Beyond that, though she couldn't see them, she knew the dark ships of the V'Elanon Empire cruised, searching for the Federation vessel.

"Tactical," she requested quietly.

"The V'Elanon ships are maintaining position," her chief of security responded evenly. The glare of the yellow alert lights gave his Vulcan features a sallow tint, while his angled eyebrows and pointed ears added to the faintly demonic look. "Their weapons remain fully charged."

She glanced over at her executive officer, Commander Chakotay. A handsome bear of a man, he rubbed the tattoo over his left eye with the back of his thumb, an unconscious gesture of concern. He returned her look with dark eyes, and shook his head.

"Apparently hiding is not the answer," he offered.  "They don't seem to be giving up."

"Not in this case," she agreed, frowning as she saw the flicker of phaser fire suddenly streak through the obscuring clouds.

"They're firing, Captain," Lt. Harry Kim reported, rather unnecessarily from his aft operations station. "However, I think it was only an attempt to flush us out."

"They don't know where we are, they're just trying to get lucky," Paris added. His boyish face turned to look at the captain. "I think we can outrun them."

Janeway considered that. "If you're wrong," she reminded him. "We'd be in a great deal of trouble. They outnumber us five to one, and all they need is one lucky shot to disable us. The rest would then move in and pick us to pieces." She glanced back at Harry. "What's the status on those shields?"

"Seven says that they're still at fifty-six percent," he replied. Young, with the greenness of Starfleet Academy still clinging to him on occasion, his dark eyes were concerned. "Lt. Torres just reported that the repairs are proceeding quickly, but her team still needs an hour."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "Then, we'll stay here another hour," she said dryly.

She realized this game of cat and mouse was trying on her crew, but sometimes one had to be aware of one's limitations. Voyager was a fine ship, it's technology far advanced when compared to most of the civilizations they had encountered during the previous five years in the Delta Quadrant, but it was still alone out here, with nothing to rely on but the strength of her crew, and the wits of her captain.

If only her captain's wits felt a little clearer at the moment, Janeway thought wryly.

She had been on duty for thirty-two hours straight, ever since they had entered the V'Elanon Empire. At first, they had been hopeful they would be able to pass through this space unmolested, but it hadn't taken long to realize the natives were not friendly. It was just a shame Voyager had gotten so far into their space before their intentions were clear. This nebula had been close by, emitting enough radiation to cover their warp signature, and conceal them from the V'Elanon but not so much that their shields couldn't handle it. It was the only thing that saved them after being damaged in the unexpected ambush.

She leaned back in her chair, forcing herself to appear relaxed even though the palms of her hands, which rested on the arms of her command chair, were slippery with sweat. She hated waiting, hated this passive strategy, but it was the best for all concerned. Federation protocols dictated that she not interfere with the development of a culture, and though she had been forced to bend and stretch Starfleet protocols over the past five years, she tried not to disobey them when she didn't have to. It was likely that Voyager's weapons could easily handle the highly maneuverable, but less powerful ships out there, but if Seven could finish modifying the shields, they wouldn't have to fight.

Avoiding a conflict was just as good a solution, she told herself sternly, though a part of her absolutely hated the idea of Voyager running like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"Seven to the bridge."

"Go ahead," Janeway said quickly, before anyone else could answer.

"I have finished the modifications to the shields," Seven of Nine said in her cool, even tone. "They are now impenetrable to V'Elanon weapons."

"Good work, Seven," Janeway said warmly, and altered the comm channel. "Bridge to Engineering. What's your status, B'Elanna?"

"The hull breech on deck nine is sealed," came the quick reply. "We're still working on deck eight."

"How much longer?" Janeway asked. She had a mental image of her chief engineer who would be working right there with her crew. The Klingon/Human hybrid never asked of her people anything she would not do herself, no matter how dirty the job. Hull breaches required hard manual labor, needing a careful touch with the laser torch. It was hot and dangerous work, but B'Elanna was the best engineer Janeway had ever known ... high praise coming from someone who was no slouch in that department herself.

"Twenty minutes," B'Elanna promised.

Janeway chafed at the delay, but knew that it would defeat the purpose to move before they were ready. "Understood," she said.

She rubbed her hands surreptitiously on her trousers, and glanced around the bridge. Paris continued to run course corrections in his board, plotting out the fastest and safest way to the edge of V'Elanon space, his shoulders tense as he worked. Tuvok, on the other hand, appeared no different than he did when the ship was traveling unchallenged through unclaimed space.

Janeway wished she possessed a little of that Vulcan calm herself, at times. As it was, experience allowed her to look cool and collected, even though what she really wanted to do was leap up and pace about the bridge like a caged animal. That would hardly do Harry Kim any good however, she thought with an internal grin. She knew that he was tapping his fingers on the operations console, hearing the faint tattoo of the flesh against the metal from somewhere behind her.

Chakotay leaned over, lowering his voice so that no one else could hear. "Are we going to fire back?" he asked.

"Only if they leave us no other choice," she replied softly.

She rested her chin on her forefinger and thumb, eyes dark as she regarded the viewscreen, irritated by these aliens who was making her life so difficult at the moment. The soft hiss of the door heralded the arrival of someone from the turbolift, and she glanced back to see the tall, curvaceous form of her astrometrics officer enter the bridge.

Seven of Nine took a position on the elevated area just behind the command chairs, accessing the auxiliary tactical station. There, she could access data from both main tactical and operations in the event one or both officers went down. Janeway wished the station was to the front of the bridge rather than aft. She would much rather be looking at Seven than the thick, pinkish clouds of the nebula on the screen. However, she was very aware of the Borg's presence, not having to glance over her shoulder to know those ice blue eyes were tracing over her when they weren't concentrating on the data readouts.

There was an escalating tension on the bridge as they continued to wait for Engineering to complete their repairs. When the call finally came in, it was like being released from imprisonment.

"Torres to Bridge. Hull integrity at one hundred percent."

Janeway stood up. "Red Alert," she snapped, the illumination growing darker, washing over her with a crimson hue. "Get us out of here, Tom. Warp six."

She sat down abruptly as the ship leaped forward, the acceleration pressing her back in her seat, and she hoped no one had noticed. She shouldn't have stood up, she thought idly as she gripped the arms of her command chair. She was lucky she hadn't landed her ass on the hard deck plates, instead of the supportive cushion of her chair.

She took an instant to glance back. Seven seemed oblivious to the motion of the ship as Paris threw it into a series of maneuvers designed to throw off the V'Elanon, and Janeway stifled a flash of envy. Nothing ever seemed to bother the young woman much. At least, not externally.

"Captain, the V'Elanon are firing," Tuvok reported.

Janeway felt the shudder as the ship was struck by the energy beams, but unlike before, there was none of the savage jolting  the previous attack had subjected them to, the shots puncturing the hull with stunning force.

"Shields are holding," Seven reported without pride, even though it had been her abilities which had modified them. Once a drone with the Borg Collective, Seven retained much of the technological knowledge she had assimilated. It continued to serve Voyager well now that she was a member of its crew.

"Warp six," Paris offered, finally having broke free of the blockade which surrounded them, and accelerating steadily. "We're pulling away."

"The V'Elanon are falling back," Tuvok said after several moments.

"Approaching the edge of V'Elanon space," Harry added.

"The V'Elanon have broken off pursuit," Tuvok concluded.

Janeway glanced at Chakotay who grinned. "Sometimes the bear gets you," he said. "But sometimes you get the bear."

"Or at least, avoid tangling with him," she agreed. She turned her head forward. "Good work, people. Tom, maintain a course that leaves us well clear of V'Elanon space."

"Aye, captain," he replied.

She took a breath and stood up. Her eyes briefly intersected with Seven's and absurdly, she felt herself flush. I'm tired, she thought. She nodded at Chakotay.

"You have the bridge," she said. "Maintain our heading to the Alpha Quadrant."

It was more a formality designed to turn over the conn to him, rather than an actual order, but he nodded anyway. "Aye," he said. He raised an eyebrow. "Pleasant dreams."

She grinned at the impudence of it. She knew she must look like hell but still, he shouldn't assume she was going straight to bed ... even if she was.

"Don't wait too long yourself," she reminded him pointedly. After all, he had been up just as long as she had.

"In a while," he promised, and turned to his console to log his report.

She left the bridge and entered the turbolift, unsurprised when she was joined by her astrometrics officer.

"Are you going to bed now?" Seven asked.

"If I can make it that far," Janeway admitted. Now that the excitement was over, she felt exhaustion seep over her like a damp woolen cloak. She would have swayed, but for Seven's hand suddenly gripping her shoulder. It was a effrontery not allowed most crewmembers with their captain, but then, Seven of Nine was not most crewmembers. For a few precious seconds, Janeway leaned into it gratefully, then straightened as the turbolift doors slid open.

"I must finish in astrometrics," Seven said then. "I will not be long."

Janeway nodded briefly, and exited the turbolift, heading for her quarters. There, she was met by Jake, an Irish Setter puppy, who for some reason, seemed to sense that she would not appreciate his normally boisterous greeting, and instead, sat down in front of her, panting happily.

She smiled as she patted his head.

"Good pup," she praised him. "Have you been fed?"

Just to be sure, she retrieved his dish and replicated a generous amount of mixed dry and moist puppy chow for him. She sat it down in his area just outside the bedroom door, before going into the room containing a queen-sized bed. She was too tired to do anything beyond stripping off her uniform, and crawling between the smooth sheets, curling around a pillow which she clutched to herself. She fell asleep almost immediately, and was not consciously aware of the warm body which joined her an hour later, though somehow, she rolled over and clutched that instead.

Seven of Nine woke to the warmth and familiar weight of her partner slumbering peacefully on top of her. She tried not to gasp for breath as she wrapped her arms around the captain, easing them over until they were laying on their sides, and Seven could once again breathe easily. Janeway stirred briefly, though only to snuggle closer, draping her arm and leg over Seven with possessive affection. Seven rested her chin on the auburn hair, and closed her eyes. She required much less sleep than Janeway, thanks to her Borg enhancements, but it was still nice to doze in this cozy, warm place.

Even though it wasn't quite the same.

Seven felt a lump in her throat. Though she and the captain had shared a deeply personal relationship for several months, a recent explosion had left Janeway with a loss of memory stretching back three years. They had slowly began rebuilding their bond as Janeway got to know Seven again, but they had yet to resume their former physical intimacy, though they still shared a bed. Perhaps it was time to become lovers again, Seven thought. If only she could be sure of Kathryn's feelings, be sure that the captain loved her as she had before.

She felt lips suddenly moving over her jaw, along the underside of her chin, and despite her uncertainty, she smiled faintly. "Good morning," she said quietly.

A soft, throaty laugh caressed her ears. "More like good afternoon," Janeway responded.

The captain's weight eased back on top of Seven, and the generous mouth covered the younger woman's with a tender intensity. Seven kissed her back, enjoying the taste and sensation of Janeway's mouth on hers, but was careful not to make it too passionate. She reached up with gentle fingertips to touch the captain's cheek, and Janeway took that as invitation to deepen the kiss.

"Do you know how very beautiful you are," the captain murmured against her lips once they parted.

"Beauty is irrelevant," Seven responded automatically, then gentled her voice. "However, I am glad that you think I am."

"I do," Janeway whispered. She slipped her hand under the Starfleet issued gray pyjamas Seven wore, fingers dancing over the Borg's stomach, then along her rib cage. Seven shifted so that the fingers could not reach her breasts, and Janeway hesitated as she felt the resistance. "Annika?"

"I ... I am unsure this is the right time," Seven said quietly.

Janeway considered that, hands motionless against her though Seven still felt the warmth of her fingers against her skin, making her tingle. "Do you still have doubts, darling?" Janeway asked quietly. "Don't you know how I feel about you?"

"I know you care for me," Seven said hesitantly.

Janeway took a breath and withdrew, pulling away until she was lying on her side, no longer touching Seven. Seven closed her eyes, not wanting to look at her partner, not wanting to see the disappointment and irritation in the blue-grey eyes.

"I may never feel exactly the same as I did, Annika," Janeway said softly. "But I do love you. I've told you that."

Seven swallowed. "I want to believe it," she said.

There was a pause. "But you don't," Janeway said coolly.

She rolled out of bed and left Seven laying there, feeling wretched and wishing she knew why she was so uncertain ... so afraid. She was terrified that if they moved too quickly that this fragile bond forming between them would somehow be lost, but she did not know how to explain it to Kathryn, and as a result, the captain was becoming progressively impatient with her. Perhaps I should just make love with her, Seven thought miserably. Then, progress from there.

She could hear the muted sound of the shower, knowing that Janeway was beginning her day, and with a sigh, she slipped out of bed. She donned a sedate, silver robe, and moved out to the living area where Jake ambled over to meet her, his tail wagging so hard, his whole hindquarters swayed. She reached down with her right hand, and patted him, then made her way over to the small kitchenette situated in one corner of the room. Retrieving a device from beneath the counter, she carefully measured the proper amount of coffee beans plus a few secret ingredients, setting it to brew. She replicated a plate of eggs, ham and home fries, placing it on the dining table, along with a large glass of orange juice just as the captain exited the bedroom, fluffing her hair which was still damp, and sweeping it up into a bun.

Janeway was dressed in a deep sapphire robe which set off her marvelous blue-grey eyes, and her feet were bare, peeping out from beneath the hem as she walked. Clearly, she was taking the day off after having pulled double duty for two days straight, and Seven was gratified. Their off duty periods rarely coincided, and she hoped that they would be able to spend the entire day together ... but only if Janeway was not angry about what had happened earlier.

However, the captain smiled at the young woman as she settled on her chair, picking up her fork. "This is good," she said after she tasted the home fries.

Relieved, Seven went to the replicator to prepare Jake's breakfast. After that task was complete, she went into the ensuite and took a sonic shower, dressing in a blue and gray outfit which covered her like a second skin. When she returned to the other room, she saw that Janeway had retrieved her own coffee, and was chewing on some toast as she perused a report from a padd. Seven replicated her own breakfast, blueberry waffles, and sat down at the table. She enjoyed this time with Kathryn, the rare chance to spend a leisurely breakfast together, and if it was not exactly as it had been, it was probably as close as they were going to get.

She affected not to notice when Janeway sent her crust spinning through the air where Jake snapped it up before it hit the deck, but she was aware of the captain looking at her with a impudent grin, almost as if she was daring her to say something. For some reason, since her accident, Janeway had seemed ... more playful ... though that wasn't quite the word Seven was looking for. It was edgier than that.

"Are you on duty today?" Janeway asked.

"No," Seven responded. "I did promise B'Elanna I would help with the plasma relays. However, I would prefer to spend the day with you."

Janeway blinked, and a soft, shy expression crossed her face. "I think I'd like that as well," she said. She lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry about this morning," she added, in a voice that to Seven, didn't really sound sorry at all. Instead, it sounded like Janeway was attempting to elicit some sort of information from her.

Seven thought about it for a minute. "There is nothing to apologize for," she said finally, after having discarded several other, more informative responses.

Janeway looked faintly disappointed, and Seven wondered what she had been attempting to discover.

"So what would you like to do today?" Janeway asked after a few moments.

"I had not considered it," Seven replied honestly. "What would you like to do?"

Janeway stared at her with an expression in her eyes that made Seven blush, though she wasn't sure why. "I could think of several things," Janeway said, in a voice that made the hair on the back of Seven's neck stand upright.

Seven looked down at her plate uncomfortably. She heard Janeway get up and move around the table, then felt the warmth of her fingers on her shoulder.

"Annika, please tell me what's wrong," Janeway asked softly. "What's going on here?"

"I do not know," Seven replied miserably. "I am afraid."

"Of what?" Janeway prodded gently. "Of me?"

Seven shook her head. "Of us," she said, struggling to find the words to explain. "I am afraid that if we make love and it is not ... if we do not ... if you do not ..."

"Shh," Janeway soothed, placing a finger on the Borg's lips, and lifting Seven's face to her where she regarded her with a compassionate look. "I'm sorry, Annika," she said, meaning it this time. "If you're not ready, then you're right, it's not time. I just wanted to be with you. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I want to be with you," Seven said unhappily. "I am sorry, Kathryn. I do not have the words to explain how I feel. Or why I feel this way." She felt very much like she was going to cry. "I do not want to drive you away. I do not want to disappoint you."

"You haven't," Janeway assured her, kneeling down so that her head was on the level with Seven's. "My darling, you could never drive me away. You're absolutely stuck with me, but I would like to understand what is making it so difficult for you to believe my feelings for you are real."

Seven fought back the tears stinging her eyes. "I am afraid that what you believe you feel is only what you think you should," she said slowly. "That you have read all the logs, that you have been told that you are supposed to love me ... so you do."

Janeway took a breath. "You mean that somehow I've only convinced myself that what I feel is love," she said. She paused. "Annika, I know the difference between attraction and love."

Seven nodded unhappily. "I know," she said.

Janeway regarded her for a long moment. "No, I don't believe you do," she said again. She sighed, lightly brushing her fingers along Seven's cheek. "Darling, what can I do to make you understand this is real?  How can I show you that I love you?"

"I do not know," Seven said in a small voice. She closed her eyes. "I want to believe. I find I ... cannot."

"Oh, Annika," Janeway said helplessly. She slid her arms around her neck and hugged her. "We'll figure it out, darling," she murmured softly into her ear. "Together. I promise I won't try to rush you anymore." Seven hugged her back, burying her face into the hollow of Janeway's neck, trying not to cry and totally unable to prevent it. Janeway just stroked her hair and nuzzled her as she wept. "Darling, I do love you," the captain added. "I'll find a way to prove it to you. In the meantime, just believe in me. Have faith in us."

"I will try," Seven whispered through her tears.

However, she was very much afraid that she would fail.

Lieutenant Commander Tuvok made a few notations in his padd, and laid it down beside all the others which were piled neatly on the low table in front of him. As chief of security for Voyager, it was his responsibility to protect this ship and its crew from all threats, both external and internal. Right now, he was completely occupied by this current danger to the well being of his ship.

The sabotage which had injured Captain Janeway severely, robbing her of her memories, had been a deliberate attempt to kill Lt. B'Elanna Torres, and the fact that the captain was nothing more than an inadvertent victim, did not mitigate the horrendous nature of the crime which had been committed. Right now, the perpetrator of that crime, Lt. Angela James, was being held in Voyager's brig, awaiting her court martial. Tuvok had been assigned to prosecute the case, and he had made a personal vow to carry out this task to the absolute best of his ability.

Vulcans did not take things personally as a rule, but Tuvok had an abiding distaste for Lt. James. Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine had lost their previous easy relationship, something that was clear to him though the two women tried to conceal it from the rest of the ship. He had served with Janeway for some time, having known her longer than anyone else on the ship. Seven of Nine had been in his life for a much shorter period, but he was appreciative of her logical and straightforward manner, finding in her something that reminded him remarkably of his daughter, back home in the Alpha Quadrant. He had more than the usual protective instincts toward her, though he would not admit that to just anyone.  He considered both of them to be his friends.

There were other reasons to be disturbed by this case.  Lt. James had originally presented a quiet, competent face to the ship, but digging deeper had uncovered very disturbing patterns in her personal life, no single thing that would have alerted anyone before now, but taken together as a whole, they resulted in a clear warning as to what she was capable of. Broken relationships which ended bitterly and with acrimony on both sides, behavior regarding ex-lovers and their current partners, incidents buried in her personnel record both from her days at the Academy, and at her first posting on the USS Entropy.  Her attempt to kill B'Elanna could have been predicted, if only Tuvok had been aware of everything that went on the past four years regarding the personal details of the crew's romantic liaisons.

He repressed a shudder at that thought.

The chime to his quarters sounded softly, and he looked up, raising a dark eyebrow.

"Come in," he said. He tilted his head slightly as Janeway entered. "Captain?"

"Tuvok," she greeted. When he nodded slightly, she took a seat opposite him at the unspoken invitation. "I stopped by to find out how the case is going."

As one of the victims, Janeway felt that she could not act in any sort of official manner in James's court martial. Otherwise, it was possible that the crew would feel that any outcome would be essentially unfair, no matter how she conducted herself.  Since her whole command rested on the faith and trust of the people under her, it was a risk she was not prepared to take, not here so far away from Starfleet Command and the Federation.  For the same reasons, most of the senior staff were also exempt. As a result, a panel of Judges had been chosen by the captain though so far, only the three in question had been informed.

Tuvok had not been told yet either, but he thought he could guess at least one of the individuals if he were so inclined to indulge in such speculation. The Doctor had been acting uncommonly odd the past few days. Tuvok knew the captain was very concerned that Lt. James would not get a fair and impartial trial on a ship in their situation. He also knew that she had probably agonized over her selection for quite some time.

"Indeed," he said. "Would you be more specific?"

She folded her hands and put them neatly on her lap. "I need to know if Lt. James has a case."

Tuvok raised his eyebrow. "Perhaps you should talk to her counsel," he advised dryly. "While I am forced by law to share all the details of Starfleet's case with Lt. Kim, Mr. Kim is not required to do the same. He would have a far more educated opinion on the matter than I would."

Janeway made a face. "I would not presume to talk to Harry about this," she said. "I wouldn't want to give the impression that I am trying to influence him in any way." Her steady gray eyes met his. "I was hoping that you could speculate for me, old friend."

Tuvok did not sigh, but at times, he thought that it would be a useful expression of certain emotions which were harder to suppress than others. Janeway tended to call on their long-standing friendship at the oddest times.

"Very well," he said, giving her his full and undivided attention. "Were I Lt. James's counsel, I would concentrate on the fact that Lt. Torres threatened her life, and as a result, she was acting purely in self defense."  He chose not to share with her all he had learned about the young woman.  For one thing, it would do no good, and only make her feel guilty that she hadn't seen it coming either, which was illogical of course, but very characteristic of the captain.

"Then, why didn't she inform her superior officer? Or you?" Janeway responded fretfully.

Tuvok had noticed that Janeway displayed more impatience now, was less apt to be calm in certain situations. The strangest thing was that while she was no longer like the woman of the recent past, she wasn't the woman he remembered from three years ago, either. She had become a completely new entity.

"James could have been of the belief that she would receive no assistance from her superior officers," Tuvok suggested. "That Torres held such a valuable position on the ship, she was inviolate, and that the only course of action was to protect herself in this manner."

Janeway shook her head. "I know that's what she's been saying, Tuvok," she said. "What would possess her to come such a conclusion?"

"Torres and Seven have become close friends," Tuvok said. "Seven is your fiancé, so by extension, B'Elanna also enjoyed certain favor with you."

"I would never treat them differently than the rest of my crew, regardless of my personal feelings," she said flatly.

He controlled his expression carefully. "In truth, Captain, Seven and B'Elanna have indulged in certain ... actions in the past that could be considered inappropriate," he said.

Janeway stared at him. "Like what?"

"B'Elanna has frequently chased Seven through the ship after the Borg had provoked her in some manner," he said. "They have engaged in what I believe is known as 'horseplay' while on duty. Certain of their conversations have been ... passed around the lower decks."

"How long did this go on?" Janeway said, and her voice was cold.

"For some time," he said reluctantly, knowing he was getting into deep water here, and unable to find a way out. "A few months."

"It took me that long to find out about it?"  Janeway frowned.

"You were aware of most of it at the time, Captain," he said.

She blinked, took a slow breath. "I let it go on?" she said, her voice suddenly uncertain.

"It was an indulgence on your part regarding Seven," he said delicately. "She is not a member of Starfleet, and her adaptation to Humanity has been a difficult one at times. I believe that B'Elanna became aware of your acceptance of Seven's non-regulation type behavior and occasionally took advantage of it for herself."

"Why would I allow this?" Janeway said in disbelief.

Tuvok hesitated. "That would require more speculation," he disassembled.

"Then, do so," she said icily.

Tuvok repressed another sigh. "In the beginning of your personal relationship, though you obviously loved Seven, you still treated her very much as a crewmember," he said. "The ship was always your ultimate priority. Then, for a brief period of time, you believed she was dead. It was extremely traumatic, and I believe, had a profound effect on you. It is possible that after Seven returned to you alive and well, you overcompensated your previous attitude toward her with one which was more ... tolerant ... of certain behavior." He paused, searching for the right words. "Also Captain, Seven was assimilated when she was only six years old. She had no traditional childhood, whatsoever. It is conceivable that you were allowing her to engage in the more 'childish' pursuits to make up for that perceived loss."

Janeway exhaled slowly. "Tuvok, I know you would not lie to me," she said slowly. "But I find this all difficult to believe."

He raised an eyebrow. "We have been out here for almost six years, Captain," he said. "We have experienced many things that the average starship in the Alpha Quadrant simply would not. Also, the crew is comprised of many differing elements outside of Starfleet; Maquis, Talaxian, Ocampa, Borg, holographic entities. To command such a diverse crew is a constant experimental process, requiring a certain amount of latitude on both sides.  It has been highly successful most of the time, though occasionally it is not. It is very much trial and error, where you must often learn from your mistakes, though you always do your best to correct any errors in judgement, quickly. I do know that a month before the incident which injured you, you had brought B'Elanna back under control, though I am unsure how you accomplished it. The whole ship was aware of her new demeanor, however."

"Still, it's possible that James thought I would actually allow Torres to harm her without repercussion," Janeway said fretfully. "With Chakotay involved with B'Elanna now, it might seem that she had no where to go."

Tuvok raised his head. "Perhaps," he allowed. "However, none of the rest of the crew shares this irrational belief. It is an illogical conclusion to make with such little data. I certainly have no intention of allowing her to use such a belief to justify attempted murder."

Janeway looked away, was silent for quite a few moments. Tuvok regarded her quietly, waiting patiently for her response, but when it came, it was not about the case.

"Tuvok, how well do you know Seven?" she asked quietly.

Tuvok considered the question, wondering what had prompted it. "She is my friend," he said finally.

Janeway eyed him with faint surprise. It was not something he said lightly. There was a wealth of meaning behind that the stark statement that only she would be aware of.

"I see," she said. She smiled faintly. "I don't know who else to talk to, Tuvok."

Tuvok dipped his head. He could see where this was going now ... unfortunately.

"Seven is afraid of me," Janeway said slowly. "Afraid that my feelings aren't real."

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Are they?" he asked.

Janeway made a face at him. "Of course they are," she said. "I'm in love with her, but she just doesn't believe it. The longer we go on this way, the more afraid she becomes, and the less willing she is to ... escalate our relationship."

"I see," Tuvok said, and stifled another sigh. Honestly, why did he always find himself explaining Human behavior to other Humans? One would assume they would be the experts, rather than he. "She does not know you anymore, Captain," he said.

Janeway frowned at him. "I'm the one who doesn't remember her," she said with a touch of puzzlement. "Her memory is absolutely fine."

"Captain, she loves who you were," he explained. "It was easy for you to begin again. You met her, and found a stranger whom you had to rediscover. Seven, however, looks at you, and sees who you used to be. The emotion she is now perceiving, however, is not the same as what she was accustomed to, whether because you display it differently, or because you are a different person now. As a result, Seven cannot trust your feelings, though she perhaps cannot understand why. She needs to comprehend that you are no longer the person she loved. She must learn to love the person you are, just as you learned how to love her."

Janeway eyed him as if unable to believe what she was hearing. "I must admit, Tuvok," she said slowly. "I'm surprised at your take on this."

He tilted his head. "Do you consider it inaccurate, Captain?" he asked curiously.

"No," she said, astonishment tinging her voice ... and excitement. "I think you've hit the nail right on the head.  It's so obvious now that you've laid it out for me."

Tuvok allowed himself a certain satisfaction at the accuracy of his conclusions, though it took him a moment to work out the simile. "So your course of action is clear," he said.

"It is?" she responded, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"You must woo her, Captain," he said.

"'Woo her'?" Janeway sat up straight and stared at him. "Excuse me, Tuvok. Did you say I have to 'woo her'?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Is the terminology incorrect?" he asked.

Janeway's mouth opened, closed, opened again. She looked vaguely like an aquatic animal, he thought idly. A Terran carp, perhaps? He waited patiently for her to regain her composure.

Finally she shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Tuvok, I don't know what I expected when I came in here, but it certainly wasn't help on my love life," she said.

"This is not the first time you have come to me about it," he said with a certain amount of gentleness.

She stared at him, then brightened suddenly. "Yes," she said in an odd tone. "We were walking in the corridor. I asked you what I should do about Seven. You advised me to tell her I loved her." The captain looked very pleased, as she always did whenever she had managed to retrieve yet another fragment of her lost memories.

"You did not agree with that advice," he reminded her.

"No," she said. "However, I know you were right then, and you're probably right now, old friend." A determined look came over her face. "I'm just going to have to woo her."

A sudden qualm struck him. "Do you know how to 'woo', Captain?" he asked with some concern.

A smile played about her lips, quirking one corner of her mouth. "I believe I can figure it out," she said dryly.

Seven of Nine entered the astrometrics lab, her mind swirling with equations and the plotting of charts regarding this area of space. She had discovered that if she concentrated very hard on work, it usually kept her from feeling so unhappy and afraid. The absence of those emotions was a welcome relief to her, though it inevitably did not last very long.

She frowned as she saw the clear, crystal vase sitting on her console, a single perfect rose, its petals a deep, almost blood red, filling the air around it with the most delicate of perfume. She hesitated, then picked up the small envelope leaning against the base. Inside was a card, displaying a single phrase in what was clearly handwritten script.

"'Thinking of you always. K.'"

Seven did not know who K was, or why such a card would accompany a piece of dying vegetation.  She wondered if a biological sample intended for exobiology had somehow mistakenly ended up in the astrometrics department. The doors to the lab hissed open, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Lt. Torres. The Klingon/Human hybrid offered an intrigued expression when she caught sight of the rose, and when she held her hand out for the card, Seven obligingly gave it to her.

B'Elanna read it and grinned. "Well, isn't this romantic."

"'Romantic'?" Seven repeated. "Who would do this?"

B'Elanna eyed her. "It's from the captain," she said as if she wasn't sure if Seven was being serious or not. "Who else would it be from?"

Seven blinked.  'K' meant Kathryn?  She gazed at the rose. "Why would she give me a decomposing plant?" she asked in confusion.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Seven, sending flowers to someone is an attempt to convey an emotion," she told her. "Roses are especially romantic, and the color denotes what intention the sender has toward the recipient."

"Explain," Seven requested, frowning as she looked at her.

B'Elanna blinked. "You really don't know what this means?" she asked.

"I do not," Seven said precisely.

"Fine," B'Elanna said with forced patience. "A white rose signifies purity, that the person's emotions toward you are innocent and without passion. Tuvok would send a white rose ... if he were the type to sent roses, that is. A yellow rose denotes friendship."

"What does red indicate?" Seven asked, touching one of the crimson petals gingerly, astounded at how velvet soft the texture was.

"Love," B'Elanna said flatly. "Deep, passionate, head-over-heels love."

Seven glanced at her uncertainly. "Dead vegetation signifies all that?" Seven said skeptically.

"In Human culture, yes," B'Elanna said. "Why?"

Seven dipped her head, regarding the flower warily. "The captain says she loves me," she said.

"Of course she does," B'Elanna said, frowning.

"It is not the same as what she felt for me before," Seven elaborated. "It is different."

"Different, how?"

Seven shook her head. "I cannot explain it," she said sorrowfully. "It is just not the same as how she felt before."

B'Elanna studied her. "The captain's a different person now, Seven," she said with uncharacteristic gentleness. "However, I do know this, no matter what she's been through, Captain Janeway would not do something like this unless she meant it. It's no joke. It's a completely serious gesture."

Seven felt confused, lost. "She does not make 'gestures' like this," she said, struggling to understand. "It is not her way."

"Well, she does now," Torres pointed out. Seven looked at her unhappily, and B'Elanna picked up the card, trying it from another angle. "This says she's thinking of you, Seven. How does that make you feel, knowing she would take the time to let you know you're always on her mind?"

Seven thought about it. "It makes me feel ... good," she admitted finally.

"Then go with it, and quit your bellyaching," B'Elanna said, obviously at the end of her patience with this topic. "I didn't come here to talk about this. I want to speak with you about the court martial. What do you intend to say on the stand?"

Seven wondered if the situation she found herself in with Janeway was spilling over into the rest of her life. More and more, she felt like she had no idea what was going on around her. It reminded her uncomfortably of how she felt when she first arrived on Voyager; baffled, afraid, completely at a loss at how to behave or what to say. Then, she had covered it up with an icy demeanor, with a cold arrogance and presumption to hide the deep fear inside. Now, she could only show her confusion.

"The 'stand'?" she said.

"Yes, Seven," B'Elanna said, with what was clearly forced patience. "Harry will try to get you to say that I threatened James's life."

"You did threaten her life," Seven responded, puzzled.

B'Elanna rolled her eyes again, and it occurred to Seven that the chief engineer had been doing that quite a lot recently.

"Seven, I didn't threaten her life," she said.

"I heard you threaten to kill her," Seven responded slowly. "Several times in a variety of ways."

"But, I didn't mean it," B'Elanna protested.

"Didn't mean that you would kill Lt. James, or didn't mean that you were going to use several methods?" Seven asked and immediately stepped out of arm's length, glad that she had when B'Elanna promptly slammed her fist into the console, leaving a respectable dent.

"Are you trying to drive me crazy, Seven?" she yelled.

"Is that a rhetorical question?" Seven wondered.

B'Elanna froze, dark eyes glaring at the Borg who took another involuntary step backward. Taking a long slow deep breath, B'Elanna unclenched her fists, one finger at a time, and smiled. It was a very insincere smile, Seven thought uneasily.

"Seven," B'Elanna said with careful enunciation. "I am always threatening to kill various people, aren't I?"

"Yes," Seven responded positively, feeling a bit relieved that she could answer at least one of B'Elanna's questions with some conviction that it was the correct response. "You have threatened to kill me in a most unpleasant manner no less than seventeen times."

"And how many times have I actually killed you?" B'Elanna said.

Seven considered that very carefully, wondering if it were some kind of trick question. "You have never killed me," she said slowly.

B'Elanna let out an exaggerated exhalation. "Exactly," she said. "That's all you have to say to Harry."

"Harry knows you have not killed me," Seven pointed out.

"He will ask you, however," B'Elanna told her, eyes starting to glaze over.

Seven blinked. "How do you know this?" she asked.

B'Elanna stared at her for several moments. "Seven, do you know what a court martial is?" she asked.

"It is a military court to try persons subject to military law," Seven recited. "A trial by such a court."

"But, do you know what that means?" B'Elanna asked. "Do you understand what's going to happen with Lt. James?"

Seven frowned. "Lt. James had been judged to have done wrong," she said slowly. "The captain is punishing her by confining her to the brig, just as she used to confine me in the cargo bay when I made a mistake. That is 'Starfleet' justice. Kathryn said that she must not face Klingon justice or Borg justice." She paused. "I do not believe the Borg have such a concept as 'justice'. If a drone is flawed and cannot be repaired, then it is destroyed."

"Seven, James is in the brig awaiting her court martial," B'Elanna corrected. She leaned against the console. "It hasn't already happened. She will be tried for attempting to murder the captain and me. If she is convicted, then she will be punished."

"Oh," Seven said. She raised an eyebrow, her eyepiece glinting briefly in the muted light. "She is not being punished now?"

"No," B'Elanna said. "If the attempted murder of the captain is switched over to a mutiny charge, James could be hung."

"'Hung'?" Seven said, unsure what it meant.

"Yeah," B'Elanna said and got that tone in her voice she always did when discussing something brutal. A mix of fascination, anticipation, and a slight repulsion. "A rope would be tied around her neck, and she'll be dropped through a trapdoor which it would either snap her neck or suffocate her ... assuming that's the sentence, of course."

Seven felt vaguely repulsed herself. What an inefficient way to terminate someone. Surely they could come up with something better than that. Perhaps she could offer a list of more efficient and quicker methods, though it seemed that this method was a tradition of sorts, unquestionably Human.

"I do not believe the captain would agree to that," Seven said slowly. Though she did wonder. The Janeway she knew would never have agreed to it. Seven had no way of knowing what the current Janeway would agree to.

B'Elanna shrugged. "Perhaps. There's no question, James is in a lot of trouble. We have to make sure our stories are straight when we're called to give testimony."

Seven felt very frustrated. "'Testimony'?"

B'Elanna sighed loudly. "Seven, just do some research on it, will you?" she said.

Seven thought that was the most comprehensible thing the chief engineer had said since she arrived. She would indeed do some research on court-martial, beyond the listed meaning in the database.

Also on Human traditions regarding romance. It appeared that she was missing something very important there, as well.

Janeway regarded her holoprogram with satisfaction. A soft breeze, tangy with salt spray, tangled her hair, while overhead, seagulls drifted in an azure sky devoid of clouds, the sound of their cries carried on the wind. The steady rush of waves curling in a snowy foam, lined the white sand beach, and the reddish-brown stone of jagged cliffs rose up behind her.

Perfect, she thought.

She heard the whine of the holodeck door opening, the muted thunk as it slid back to admit a newcomer. She did not look back, not wanting to see the incongruity of a door appearing in her scenario. She heard it close, then sensed, rather than heard, the approach of the woman she was meeting here.

Seven stopped beside her, regarding the ocean view with an odd look on her face.

"I do not understand," she said. "Is this not time for our workout? Where is the pool?"

"'Workout' is such a tedious word, Annika," Janeway said, smiling as she shaded her eyes with a hand, squinting from the sun sparkling off the turquoise water. "We're still going swimming, but for a change, we're going to try salt water instead of fresh or chlorinated." She glanced at Seven, arching a brow at her partner's uncomprehending look. "Do you object?"

Seven hesitated. "No," she said finally. "However, I have never swam in 'salt' water."

"Then, it will be a new experience," Janeway offered reasonably. She ran her eyes over Seven's outfit, the traditional black undergarments which doubled, as so many things were required to on Voyager, for a purpose they were not initially intended for. A top was a half bra, baring arms, cleavage and some abdomen. The pants went down to mid-thigh, matching what the captain herself wore. She smiled again. "Computer, alter our garments to reflect this setting."

Janeway was suddenly garbed in a one piece bathing suit, slate blue with a diamond opening on her stomach. It was brief and clinging, but not nearly so much as Seven's new garment. The Borg was now wearing silver triangles of cloth covering strategic parts of her, held on by thin spaghetti strings. The captain stifled a grin.

Seven looked down at herself with equal parts puzzlement and dismay. "This is inefficient," she said, frowning. "It offers no form of protection or warmth. I may as well be wearing nothing at all."

Janeway bit the inside of her cheek to stifle the obvious response to that. Easy Katie, she thought. No more of that. We're going slow, remember? Patience had never been her strongest attribute, but she was determined to display some now ... for both their sakes.

"It's ornamental," she explained quietly. "I think you look very beautiful."

Seven regarded her uncertainly, then looked back at the water. "Is swimming different in salt water?" she asked, changing the subject.

Janeway reached out and took Seven's hand, gratified when the young woman did not resist as she led her down to the water's edge.

"We're more buoyant in salt water, Annika," she explained as they entered the simulated sea. "The motion of the waves is a constant to be dealt with, as is the undertow which is a current that flows counter to them."

Seven looked apprehensive. "Currents are dangerous," she said.

Janeway remembered from the logs she had read, that Seven had fallen into a fast moving river not so long ago, and had been carried helplessly along, almost drowning. She squeezed the hand reassuringly.

"Seven, we're still in the holodeck with the safeties engaged," she reminded her. "This undertow is not dangerous. It's merely present. I just want you to know what to expect, that the water will be in constant motion about us, but that the movement can also provide entertainment."

"Indeed," Seven said noncommittedly, moving gingerly in the waves which washed over her legs, hopping slightly as each one passed.

"Yes," Janeway said. "I'm going to show you how to body surf." Seven glanced at her, and Janeway could see her mouthing the unfamiliar term. "Come on," she urged. "Let's get wet, and then I'll show you what I mean."

They went out beyond the breakers, Janeway having programmed this scenario very carefully so that the sea beyond where the water crested was still shallow enough to stand upright, though it did reach her chin and lifted her off her feet as the waves passed. Seven, who was taller, merely stood upright, though she swayed with the motion, uncertainty still coloring her eyes. It would not get deeper than this no matter how far they went out, which of course, made the size of the waves impossible. However, that was what a holodeck was for. It didn't need to incorporate the natural laws of physics or nature when creating a scenario. Janeway was content that Seven would not find herself in water too deep to deal with, as she got used to all the differing currents flowing around her.

Janeway dunked her head under, getting her hair wet, then materialized a short board made from a material that shared many characteristics of styrofoam, only without the harmful side effects to the environment.

"Watch," she instructed Seven.

The captain proceeded to let the wave carry her in, her torso supported by the board, letting it tumble her over at the end. She did this a few times before Seven felt confident about trying it herself, but when the Borg finally did, the broad smile that spread over her face was far more reward than Janeway's teaching had warranted. The captain felt her heart ache as she saw the obvious delight in her partner's face and she realized suddenly how she could have let Seven indulge in childlike behavior without repercussion. Just to see that expression was almost more than she could bear, and she had to blink back tears as she watched Seven play in the water. Even being bowled over by the larger than average wave the holodeck threw in just to be interesting did not dim that bright expression, and their allotted time for the program went by far too quickly.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Janeway asked curiously as they walked back to their quarters afterward.

"Very much," Seven said, still beaming. "May we do that again?"

"Certainly," Janeway told her, smiling gently, pleased that her idea had not only been acceptable, but also enjoyed profoundly. Soon she hoped she would be able to get the young woman to spend some time walking on the beach, rather than merely working out on it. "Every time if you'd like. You definitely get exercise surfing."

"It did not feel like our traditional workout," Seven said as they entered their cabin, and were greeted by an enthusiastic Jake. "It was fun."

"Workouts can be fun," Janeway said with gentle humor as she scooped up Jake, scratching his ears. "In fact, they're much more effective that way."

Seven nodded thoughtfully as she made her way over to the kitchenette to prepare Jake's supplement. Janeway put the pup down, and with him leaping happily around her as she walked, she went into the ensuite to change. She drew on a simple dress, a dark, forest green, and touched a bit of perfume to her pulse points. She had been very aware of Seven this day, achingly sensitive to her presence, more so than she suspected she normally would be were things more physical between them. However, she resolved to ignore her desire. The important thing was to guide Seven to a point where she could fall in love with Janeway again, not simply try to seduce her into bed.

After all, she thought as she regarded her reflection in the mirror, isn't that what real love is? Putting the other person's happiness before your own? She wondered if she had always followed that belief, or if she let her own desires and demands get the better of her. Somehow, she suspected she had. That's what starship captains did when it came to their personal lives, after all. The career came first, then everything else second.

A wisp of memory crossed her mind, of deliberately knocking over the two statues sitting on the shelf next to the couch. Ugly, repulsive little things, she had wanted them gone, and her staged clumsiness had shattered them impressively. Guilt suddenly filled her, compounded by the sudden knowledge that Seven had been more concerned that Janeway had hurt herself, than by the loss of her favorite knickknacks. Obviously, the artwork had been replicated since then, because there were two more ugly sculptures currently sitting on the shelf , but Janeway was very aware that they weren't exactly the same as they had been. Seven must have known that too, but the captain could not remember if the Borg had ever mentioned it. She wondered if they were still Seven's favorites.

"You, my dear," she said out loud, frowning at her reflection, "are a manipulative bitch. I'm not surprised she hasn't fallen in love with you, again. She's probably became too smart for that."

"Kathryn? Did you say something?"

Seven's voice floated in from the outer room, and Janeway blushed faintly. "It was nothing," she replied loudly. "I was just talking to myself."

Seven appeared in the ensuite doorway a moment later, looking at her with concern. "You do not talk to yourself," she said.

Janeway smiled. "Now, I do," she replied gently. She was suddenly aware of Seven's eyes tracing the slim line of her dress, the way it clung to her hips, and emphasized her rather meager chest, trying not to react though she felt a definite tingling snake through her.

"You look very appealing," Seven said in an quiet voice.

Janeway offered her a wide smile. "Thank you," she said. "I like to look good for you."

She eased past the young woman, careful not to brush against her any more than necessary, and went back out into the other room. Seven followed her, obviously disconcerted, though Janeway refused to notice.

"What's for dinner?" Janeway asked. "Or is it my turn to 'cook' tonight?"

Since recovering from her injury, Janeway had taken it upon herself to prepare a certain amount of the couple's dinner menus, using the replicator to program complete meals, a variety of alien dishes from the Alpha Quadrant's many cultures.

"It is my night," Seven said hastily, and went into the kitchen. There was a glass of wine on the counter, and Janeway perched herself on the stool there, sniffing appreciatively at the warm bouquet, then sipping it, rolling it around on her tongue as she savored the flavor.

"Very nice," she said approvingly, watching as Seven prepared their dinner.

"It is from that last system," Seven responded. "I was able to secure two bottles in the marketplace."

"While I was negotiating with that offensive governor?" Janeway replied, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever would I do without you, darling?"

Seven looked at her uncertainly, as if unsure that Janeway was sincere, and the captain smiled warmly at her, raising the glass in a half salute. Reassured, Seven began layering the strips of duck breasts on a bed of spiced rice before covering them with a tangy orange sauce.

Janeway's mouth watered as she regarded the dish being prepared, and she thought about how fortunate she was that she had someone who cared enough to do special things for her, like make her favorite dishes. A sudden thought crossed her mind as she got up to set the table. She knew preparing food was Seven's gift to her, and it occurred to Janeway that by her insisting on making her own alien dishes, Seven might feel the captain no longer wanted or appreciated her gift. She frowned briefly as she analyzed this idea. Was it possible?

Glancing at Seven, seeing the youth and inexperience represented in her smooth face, Janeway realized it very well could be. One more thing that was adding to Annika's fear and uncertainty. She waited until Seven had set the dish down on the table, then wrapped her arms around the slender waist, looking up into the narrow features with a very sincere expression.

"Annika," she said softly. "I want you to know how much I love you preparing all my favorite meals. I only hope my gift of new and unusual dishes can somehow bring you the same joy as this does me."

Seven stared at her in obvious surprise, and Janeway knew that she had guessed right.

"I did not realize," Seven said huskily, as she hugged the captain back. "Thank you for your gift." She paused. "As well as for the rose you gave me."

Janeway smiled at her. "I'm glad you liked it," she said. She rested her knuckles briefly on Seven's cheek. "I didn't know if you liked roses, but I took a chance. They're my favorites."

"They are?" Seven said, surprised again. "You like flowers?"

"Oh yes," Janeway said in a softer voice. "I love their color, their fragrance, and especially how very romantic they make me feel." She had an incredible urge to kiss Seven then, but instead, she forced herself to draw away, taking a seat at the table.

Seven hesitated, then sat down as well. They ate quietly, but for some reason, Janeway did not feel the same strain that previous meals had encountered. This was more comfortable, a companionable silence that did not need to be broken. She hoped this meant she was on the right track.

"Are you on duty tonight?" she asked when they had finished, and she was helping Seven clear the table.

"No," Seven replied. "However, I have research to do. I wish to find out more about this court martial. I thought I understood what it was, but now I realize I do not." She paused. "I am discovering that about a great many things."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea since you'll probably be called as a witness at some point," she said.

"'Witness'," Seven echoed, looking at her.

Janeway started to answer, stopped, thought about it, and reformulated her reply. "I could explain the term, Annika," she said, depositing the last utensil in the recycler. "I think it would be clearer if you studied the whole thing yourself, however, rather than me giving you bits and pieces."

"I understand," Seven said.

She went over to her work station while Janeway fished a ball out from beneath the couch. Jake tried to help her in his puppy way, mostly by stepping all over her back, which caused her to laugh heartily, and Seven to glance over with a small smile. Janeway played with the pup for an hour, then spent another thirty minutes trying to teach him how to shake hands. She didn't know how successful it was, but it was relaxing, and he actually seemed to have grasped the concept before inevitably growing bored with the lesson, his attention span fairly limited at this age. Later, she curled up with him on the couch as she read a departmental report from biometrics, his head resting on her lap.

Seven was still deep in her research when Janeway finally yawned, and stood up, nudging Jake off her leg. He sighed and remained collapsed on the couch, apparently deciding that it was much preferable to his own puppy bed. She went over to Seven, and deposited a warm kiss on the back of her neck, trying to ignore the way the young woman flinched slightly in surprise.

"Good-night, darling," she said gently, stroking her hair lightly.

"Good-night, Kathryn," Seven replied.

Janeway was aware of the Borg's eyes following her into the bedroom, but did not offer a glance back. She undressed next to the wall where she wouldn't be seen from the work area, and pulled on a pair of sedate, oversized pyjamas. She crawled into bed where she dozed until Seven joined her an hour or so later. She rolled over and snuggled up to the long, lanky form, reaching up to kiss Seven gently.

"Pleasant dreams," she whispered, and lay her head on Seven's shoulder.

She was gratified to feel the tension ease immediately from the young woman's body, and realized that she really had been pushing Seven far too hard the past few weeks. She had not managed to prove her love at all, instead, all she had done was scare the young woman away. Now, that she was no longer pursuing her so strenuously, Janeway got the impression that Seven was able to relax and pay attention to Kathryn herself, rather than her intentions.

Who would have thought? she mused, as she drifted off to sleep. Tuvok actually does know what he's talking about.

Seven woke up instantly, a trait of her Borg programming. One second she was unconscious, the next, she was fully functional, clear headed and ready for the day. Her eyes flew open, and she was startled to see Janeway lying on her side next to her, propped up on one elbow, looking at her with a disturbing intensity. Seven blinked. Janeway rarely woke before she did.

"Good morning," Janeway said softly. She leaned over and kissed Seven.

At first, Seven flinched, but this kiss was not demanding or desiring something more than she was ready to give. It was gentle and sweet and very ... Seven searched for the proper word. It was 'loving' she thought in a sort of daze, an incredible tenderness echoing through the sensation like never before. She was breathless when Janeway finally pulled away, gazing into the marvelous eyes that were a warm blue, with just a hint of soft grey.

"Good morning," Seven replied huskily.

"I made you breakfast in bed," Janeway said brightly.

While Seven was trying to figure out what that meant, Janeway rolled off the bed and picked up a tray which was sitting on the night stand. At the captain's motion with her head, Seven obligingly sat up against the pillows, looking with bemusement at the stasis covered dishes covering the tray, which Janeway placed on her lap, at the crystal vase which held another of those perfect red roses.

She looked back at Janeway. "I do not understand," she said. "What is the purpose of this?"

"It's to show I care, Annika," Janeway explained gently.

She disappeared into the ensuite, leaving Seven feeling quite confused ... but in a very pleasant sort of way. She regarded the tray for a moment, then gingerly reached out and deactivated the stasis lids, wondering how Janeway had managed to do this without waking her. She thought about it, then remembered that Janeway had gotten up in the middle of the night for what Seven had assumed was a form of biological necessity. Because of that, Seven had allowed herself to fall back to sleep, only vaguely aware of Janeway rejoining her an unspecified amount of time later. Perhaps that was when the captain had replicated the meal, and certainly, the stasis lids would keep everything fresh and hot no matter how long the tray had sat on the night stand.

She sniffed appreciatively at the warm aroma rising from the rather large western omelet covering the plate next to the two slices of toast. There was also a crystal bowl of strawberries with heavy cream, orange juice, apple juice, and the herbal tea that Seven had grown fond of. All in all, it was far more breakfast than she normally ate but clearly represented a great deal of preparation and care. She glanced up as Janeway exited the ensuite, dressed in her uniform, sweeping her hair back with a single clip.

"Would you like to get together for Velocity this afternoon?" Janeway asked, snagging herself a strawberry out of the bowl.

"I would like that," Seven said. "What time?"

"Let's shoot for just after our duty shifts," Janeway said. "Around 1700?"

"That would be acceptable," Seven agreed.

Janeway smiled warmly. "Great, I'll meet you in holodeck two." She leaned over and kissed Seven again, tasting of strawberries and cream.

Seven could hear the captain talking to Jake as she left their quarters, and she looked down at her breakfast, raising an eyebrow. That was different, she noted wonderingly. She heard Jake's paws rasp over the rug as he came into the bedroom, and his head suddenly appeared over the edge of the bed as he lifted his still pudgy puppy body up onto the side. His ears perked as he eyed the breakfast tray with great interest.

"No," she warned as he made a leap for it, failing utterly in his attempt, crashing to the deck with a muted thud. His head appeared again, and he looked at her with warm brown eyes, moist and sad. "I will feed you presently," she promised him. She took a bite of her omelet, attempting to ignore him.

He barked once, and fell back on the deck, rolling over and gazing up at her, paws bent pleadingly. It was a submissive pose, designed to inspire compassion from her. Despite knowing that, she reached down, and rubbed his belly, then, after glancing around to see that no one was looking, she offered him a considerable piece of her omelet.

He snapped it up eagerly, and carried it triumphedly into the other room. Feeling somewhat guilty, Seven finished her breakfast and got up, noting that she had left crumbs scattered about the sheets even though she was a fastidious eater. Perhaps that was the reason Humans had learned to eat off a table, rather than where they slept, she thought as she stripped off the linens and remade the bed. She took a quick shower, and selected her brown mesh uniform to wear this day. Carrying the tray out to the recycler, she fed it through the recycler, then replicated Jake a proper breakfast, though he seemed less enthusiastic than normal over it. She resolved not to feed him 'people food' again, no matter how much he enjoyed it.

She carried the rose with her when she left her quarters, intending to add it to the one in astrometrics so that she could look at both, and smell their fragrance all through the day. In her lab, she began to transcribe the charts for the upcoming systems while running diagnostics on the long range sensors, which was still showing slight damage from the nebula they had been forced to hide in. Later in the morning, Lt. Kim joined her, and together, they worked on the navigational array, extending its capacity to pick up abnormalities from a greater distance. The handsome young lieutenant seemed more subdued than normal, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the duties he was performing in the court martial. She had a greater appreciation for his role as defense counsel now that she had researched the procedure thoroughly.

"Lt. Kim, may I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Go ahead," he replied warily. Like all members of the crew, he had leaned that Seven knew little about what was 'proper' to ask, though she thought she had been developing some 'tact' recently.

"Have you ever had 'breakfast in bed'?"

He blinked, startled, and she realized that he had been expecting some other question. He grinned with what seemed relief.

"Yeah," he said. "I have." His face grew slightly distant, as he apparently remembered another time. "There was a girl I was with in the Alpha Quadrant. She used to surprise me, sometimes. Libby was very fond of breakfast in bed."

Seven raised an eyebrow. "It was a surprise for you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she only did it once in a long while," he explained, "but it was special every time."

"Is eating in bed that much more enjoyable than eating at the table?" Seven said, in honest puzzlement. "It seems inefficient."

Harry took a breath. "It isn't the fact that you're eating breakfast in bed, Seven," he explained patiently. "It's the gesture."

"The 'gesture'," Seven echoed.

He paused, clearly searching for words. "It's something you do for someone you really care about," he said. "It means that ... well, I'm not sure what it means exactly, but just take it from me, it's very romantic." He favored her with a grin, faintly bittersweet. "Are you planning to serve the captain breakfast in bed?" he asked.

"No, she served it to me," Seven replied honestly. "This morning."

"Oh," he said. He hesitated, thinking about it. "Wow, I never would have pegged the captain as a romantic."

Seven frowned. "She is not," she said. "At least, she was not before her injury."

Harry reached out a hand, and rested it on the Borg's shoulder in a friendly, supportive way. "She's not the same person, Seven," he said sympathetically. "She's not who she was before the explosion." He shook his head. "She's not who she was from three years ago, either," he added thoughtfully. "She's more..." He trailed off. He looked at Seven. "I can't really explain what she's more of," he admitted. "However, she's still a great captain."

"I have never doubted her abilities," Seven said, trying to assimilate this new bit of data. She had not known Janeway three years ago, and had assumed how Janeway was acting now, was how she acted then. Now, Lt. Kim was saying that her assumption was inaccurate. It forced her to re-examine how she was perceiving things.

He put his hand down, suddenly self conscious, clearly looking for something to say to break the sudden silence that had fallen between them. "You know, I wonder if Libby and I will still be in love when we return," he said idly.

She stared at him, blinking. "You do not know?" she asked. "Did you stop loving her?"

"No," he responded. "I'm a different person than what she remembers, though, and I'll bet she'll have changed a lot too. Who knows what would happen between us?"

Seven absorbed this, examining it from all angles. "How would it be if you had been aware of everything she had gone through, but she had not been aware of you?" she asked slowly.

He blinked, trying to work that out. "You mean if I had somehow monitored her life from the Delta Quadrant all this time?" he asked.

"Precisely," she said.

He thought about it. "I still wouldn't know her, Seven," he said finally. "Without being able to talk to her, without being a part of her life, she would have changed in ways that I could not see. She would have become different inside, and I think I would have to get to know her all over again."

"Would you still love her?" Seven asked keenly.

"Maybe," he said. "Or maybe not, but it would have to be the person she is now that I fall in love with, not the girl I used to know."

Seven stared at him nonplused, feeling as she had when she had stood in the brig of Arturis's ship and realized that she did not want to become a drone again, did not want to return to the Collective, did not ever want to be Borg. Afraid, uncertain, but oddly expectant about the future, eager to discover what kind of person she would now become. Starting all over again, as if being reborn into an entirely new being.

Just as Janeway had.

Seven wondered how she could have overlooked something that was so obvious.

"I must learn how to love her again," she said faintly.

Harry eyed her curiously. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" he asked.

She blinked, allowing him to come back in focus, then smiled, a rare, wonderful smile, one that spread across her face like the bright light from a nova. It did not fade until she realized she did not know how to go about learning how to love her partner again. She was never really sure what had inspired the emotions in the first place, only that they had grown stronger the more time she spent with Kathryn. Perhaps the captain was trying to help her fall in love again, which was the reasoning behind all these 'gestures'.

I will not fail, she thought with determination. I will fall in love with Kathryn, again.

"Seven, is something wrong?" Harry said with concern, having been dazzled by the smile, and only now recovering.

"No, nothing is wrong," Seven said. "Everything is all right."

"Oh," he said, bemused. "Good."

She favored him with another smile, a more subdued one, curling both corners of her mouth. "May I ask you another question?"

"Sure, go ahead," he answered readily.

"Why did you agree to represent Angela James?" she asked. "Many of the crew are upset over it."

His face clouded up, and he shook his head ruefully. "That's what I thought you were going to ask me in the first place," he said in a dark voice. "Everyone else does." He looked at her challengingly. "Don't you think she deserves a fair trial, Seven?"

She blinked. "I have not considered it," she said honestly. "When I discovered she had hurt Kathryn, I wished only to destroy her, but Kathryn said I must not, that it would be wrong for me to administer a Borg solution to the problem. It is no longer of relevance to me."

Harry frowned at her, as if unable to grasp what Seven was saying. "Waitaminute, don't you hate her?" he said.

Seven considered it. "I do not know her," she said. "I am concerned only for Kathryn, this crew and this ship. Lt. James is no longer of our Collective."

"Then, why did you initially try to kill her?" he asked in an odd tone.

"Because she is faulty," Seven explained, reasonably. "She damaged the ship and the crew. Flawed members of the Collective which cannot be repaired must be destroyed." She paused, thinking about it. "I do not believe that she can be repaired, but Kathryn said I must not destroy her, that it was not the proper Human procedure when dealing with such things. I obey the will of the Human Collective now."

He grinned suddenly, and for some reason, it made Seven uneasy though she did not know why.

"Seven, I'm going to call you as a witness for the defense," he said.

"Very well," she said promptly. So B'Elanna and Kathryn had been right, she was going to be called as a witness. It relieved her now that the uncertainty was over, and wondered if she had to study some form of behavior to act as a witness. All her research had found was that she would be expected to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Seven was very good at that.

Captain Janeway regarded the fore viewscreen idly. Stars were a big improvement over nebula dust but sometimes even their grandeur got a little boring. Especially since she had caught up on all the work requiring her attention in her ready room and there was nothing else to do but sit here and watch them pass as she held the conn. Still, it was good for the crew to see her on the bridge, see her sitting in that command chair which fit her so easily and so well. It was where she belonged and in some, undefinable way, they sensed that, becoming uneasy when she spent large amounts of time away from it.

The helm was manned by Tom Paris but he was the only other senior crewmember on the bridge at the moment, the rest of the stations covered by lower ranked personnel. Harry Kim was working in astrometrics, Chakotay was off doing something about the biometrics department which was having trouble with its equipment, and Tuvok had been excused to work on the court martial.

Which would be starting in a day or two, Janeway knew, though she would be unable to find out the details until after she had delivered her complete testimony. Only then, would she would be free to sit in as an observer. She wondered how Harry was doing in his role as defense counsel, and if he had come up with a solid case for Angela James. She really had no idea, despite Tuvok's speculation, as to what the young lieutenant had planned. She wished she could ask him why he had taken the case, but realized she didn't dare until after the trial was all over.

Janeway felt her thoughts drifting from ship's business to more personal concerns, of the surprise for Seven she had pulled off that morning. She rarely caught the Borg asleep, but when she came out of the ensuite sometime in the night, she had noted that Seven had dozed off, providing her with the opportunity to sneak out to the replicator, and make the young woman 'breakfast in bed'. She wondered what her next move should be. A sail on the lake on Triad Seven? A picnic in the Great Park of Devarian Prime? Dancing by moonlight in an exclusive Risa nightclub?

Or perhaps she should try something that did not include the holodeck which, truth be told, sometimes gave a sense of artificiality to things. There was an area on the bottom of Voyager's saucer section where the hull was made of transparent aluminum, usually kept opaque, but could be altered back to its normal state. Janeway wasn't sure what the designers of the ship had in mind by creating it, but it had no real purpose in terms of running the ship. It was just a small chamber set beneath one of the access corridors running along that deck.

She didn't think most people on the ship knew about it, and the few who did were quite uncomfortable being in it while the hull was made transparent, giving them the impression they were standing on nothing, while the hull of the ship loomed over them somewhat menacingly. Janeway, on the other hand, absolutely adored it, and she especially appreciated it when the ship was traveling at impulse or warp, rather than when Voyager had landed on a planet's surface. She liked the feeling of being detached from her ship, moving among the stars as if she had been born there, unencumbered by a space suit.

She wondered how Seven would react to a picnic in space?

I'll just have to find out, she thought with pleasurable anticipation, and began making the arrangements, shutting off that section of the ship for 'maintenance'. Then, she transmitted a sealed priority memo to Neelix, requesting a picnic basket filled with a variety of things that she listed in great detail, while giving him the authorization and intership coordinates for him to beam it into that chamber. She hoped that he would keep it quiet, and decided he would since Neelix was much less apt to share such things with the crew than say, B'Elanna Torres was.

A bit of memory crossed her mind, a fleeting image of a Klingon body hurdling over her, and a sudden splash in silver water. She felt annoyance, a touch of anger, though who or what it was directed at, she wasn't sure. Janeway chased after it, trying to pin it down, but was unsuccessful. Sometimes having no memory, she considered, was better than the little bits that came to her from nowhere, these fragments forming incomplete in her brain, unable to find the context for the emotion which accompanied them.

She checked the time on the small chronological display on her monitor screen, and began the process of logging off duty. She had a date with Seven for Velocity, and didn't want to be late. She had been surprised at how good she was at a game she could not remember ever learning to play, but that hadn't stopped her from continuing her reign as the 'best player on the ship'. Though she frequently had to put her brain in neutral while competing so that she didn't trip up her body's reflexes, they continued to carry her to one victory after another. She derived a great satisfaction in defeating her opponents, even Seven. Or maybe especially Seven, because the Borg was one of the very few players on the ship who could give the captain a good match.

At 1645 hours, Janeway slipped down to her quarters where she fed Jake, then made her way to the small room next to the holodeck which provided shower facilities, serving as a combination dressing and locker room. She stripped off her Starfleet uniform and dressed in a form fitting outfit, red tunic, black leggings, and the heavy Velocity shoes which provided an extra bounce from the specially constructed soles. She could tell from the brown mesh outfit folded neatly on the bench that her partner was already in the court, and she hefted her phaser lightly as she entered the holodeck.

Seven was waiting patiently in the middle of the grid, and Janeway was heartened by the way the pale eyes lit up when they saw her. Despite their recent problems, there was absolutely no question in the captain's mind that Seven was the person for her. She smiled warmly at her and took her position.

"Ready to get beat?" she taunted.

"I would ask you that," Seven responded easily, eyes narrowed with a faint grin touching her lips.

That was the other thing Janeway liked about playing Velocity with Seven. No matter what was going on outside, all other things stopped at those holodeck doors, and both women were able to disregard everything else to concentrate totally on the game. It was freeing and very challenging, knowing that no quarter would be asked or given. Janeway had both experience and skill on her side, while Seven was stronger, faster and quick to adapt to any attack. It forced Janeway to keep coming up with new strategies all the time, and utilized every bit of her intellect, physical prowess and cunning to defeat the young woman.

They started their match and as always, both players were pressed to the limit. According to the rules, ten rounds were played. The one with the most rounds was the victor. Should it be tied at five, then an eleventh and deciding round would be played. Janeway usually won the matches at six to four. At four rounds, Seven inevitably became overanxious, pressing too hard to get that next point, a weakness in her game which the captain gleefully exploited again and again.

However, this day, at four rounds apiece, Seven did not lose her composure. Instead, the disc circled Seven so that her back was to the captain. Seven fired ... and did not move. Janeway had a brief second of astonishment as she tried to see around Seven, knowing the disc would be rebounding straight back. Too late, she realized what Seven had planned as the taller woman suddenly dropped to the floor, and the disc shot through the space her body had occupied to slam directly into Janeway's chest.

The disc was not actually solid, and its impact was signified only by a minor electric tingle, but reaction and surprise bowled Janeway over, and she landed solidly on her ass, the deck plates hard beneath her. Seven uncoiled from the floor and looked down at her with cool appraisal, a faint smile touching her lips.

"Impact, Seven of Nine. Round to Seven of Nine. Seven of Nine leads five rounds to four," the computer chirped.

"Nice," Janeway said admiringly, propped up on her elbows. "Very sneaky."

"I require only one more round," Seven reminded her, holding out her hand which Janeway took, allowing the young woman to haul her to her feet.

"You don't have it yet," Janeway retorted with a grin.

They set again and started the tenth round. Play was rapid and intense, Seven having taken to nudging Janeway aside in recent matches, using her greater mass to brush the captain off balance, all within the rules of course. Too hard a bump would immediately be called a fault by the computer, and the round given accordingly to Janeway. Seven had yet to exceed that fine line, and the captain found it an intriguing twist to their play. After all, she played to Seven's left side all the time, the young woman's Borg-enhanced eye having a different sort of depth perception than the organic right orb, making it difficult for Seven to handle shots from that side.

Janeway won the round by leaping onto a beam which ran up the side of the holodeck, firing straight down at the disc as it passed which drove it into the floor, sending it skimming over the deck to barely brush Seven's ankle.

"Impact, Janeway. Rounds are five apiece."

Seven stared at her utter disgust, and Janeway laughed as she dropped lightly to the deck.

"Call it a draw?" the captain offered. That was an option offered in Velocity. When the match was considered so well played that both players were equal, then they could agree on a tie match. "That way, we both win."

"Or neither of us do," Seven pointed out dryly. "I would prefer to play it out."

Janeway nodded, expecting no less. With a reckless grin, she took her position and began the final and deciding round.

If the previous rounds had been hard fought, this was an all out war. Every shot was brilliant, every move, a carefully designed action intended to win the round and the match. When it was finally decided, however, it was a result of an utter fluke. Seven skidded on a bit of moisture on the deck, no doubt deposited there by Janeway who was perspiring profusely. The young woman, who did not perspire, landed heavily on her back while Janeway, who had been positioning herself for the return shot, landed on top of her. They both tried to twist out of the way, but the disc rebounded off Seven's knee.

"Full impact, Janeway. Final Round to Janeway. Janeway wins, six to five."

The captain found herself looking down at Seven, who returned her regard with a sardonic expression. Janeway smiled faintly as she felt the warm body beneath her, the classic features so close to hers. She wanted so badly to kiss her in that moment, but she didn't, pausing with her lips a mere breath away from Seven's full mouth.

"You're getting closer all the time," Janeway said quietly.

Seven searched her face for a moment. "I believe I am," she agreed.

For some reason, Janeway didn't think Seven was talking about the game.

Seven dried off from her shower, and pulled on her mesh outfit. She was pleased with her play, knowing she had almost defeated the captain. Only 'luck' had prevented it, and she understood that such things tended to balance out over time. Perhaps the next match, it would be Janeway who would have the misfortune to fall at just the wrong time. She glanced up as the captain joined her, auburn hair left down to fall about her shoulders, her eyes sparkling a warm blue.

"That was fun," Janeway said. "I'm sorry you fell, however. I didn't want to win it that way."

Seven shrugged lightly. "Part of the game," she said. "I am aware of the conditions under which we play. It could have easily been you who slipped, granting me the easy victory."

"Luck of the draw," Janeway agreed, patting her on the shoulder.

They exited the changing room and entered the corridor, Janeway resting her hand on Seven's elbow. "It's my turn to make dinner tonight, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Seven said. Since she had learned that the captain was trying to present her with a gift by preparing dinner, she no longer felt uncomfortable about it. Instead, it now pleased her to know that Janeway would do something for her she would not otherwise do for anyone else. "What do you have in mind?"

"Ah, a surprise," Janeway said, obviously very pleased with herself. "Not in our quarters, though. I've already fed Jake so we don't have to worry about his supper."

"Where are we eating?" Seven asked. "In the mess hall?"

"Somewhere much better," Janeway told her, a sly expression crossing her face.

Seven didn't know whether to be expectant ... or apprehensive. The captain only developed that expression when she was planning something she thought was very clever. The Borg had seen it many times, not only in relation to her, but also when Janeway was about to spring some unpleasant surprise on some unsuspecting alien species who had dared to threaten her ship.

The Borg raised an eyebrow when Janeway led her to the lower level of the saucer section, taking her into a little used access corridor. The captain pried up a panel that Seven had never known was there, and used a small utility ladder to drop down into a small chamber beneath. Her face was a pale oval in the dimly lit room as she gazed back up at Seven.

"Coming?" she invited.

Uncertainly, Seven followed her down into the chamber, straightening with care as the top of her head brushed the underside of the hull. Emergency running lights adorning the area around the opening above her, casting a eerie glow, and she could see Janeway sitting cross legged on the floor, spreading out a red-and-black checkered blanket.

"Have a seat, Annika," Janeway instructed, digging into a large wicker basket which rested on the deck beside her.

Seven did so, mirroring the captain's position, frowning slightly as Janeway laid out their repast, a basket of curled bread kept warm by stasis, a tray of cheese, fruit and spreads which conversely were kept cool, and a bottle of wine set in a silver bucket, the sides wet with condensation as it chilled.

"What is this?" Seven asked.

"It's a picnic," Janeway explained.

"'Picnic'?"

Janeway looked at her with an expression of disbelief. "You don't know what a picnic is?" she said in an oddly stricken voice. "I've never taken you on one?"

"No," Seven said, puzzled.

Janeway shook her head, frowning slightly. "Annika, I know why I adore you," she said with a touch of sadness in her voice. "I have absolutely no idea why you once fell in love with me, however."

Seven, who didn't really understand what Janeway was saying, and made vaguely uneasy by the words, decided a change of subject would be a good move at this time. "What are those?" she asked, pointing at the basket.

"They're called croissants," the captain said. She picked one up, handling it gingerly as she pulled it open. Steam rose from the soft, white interior, and she slathered butter on it before handing it to Seven. "Try it."

Seven bit into the 'croissant', finding the warmth and texture very pleasing. "It is good," she mumbled around the bread.

"It's French cuisine," Janeway explained. "That's an area in the European Section of Earth. The cheeses and the wine are also French. A picnic, by the way, is when you eat outside, usually on the ground in a park setting."

"Then why did we not eat in the holodeck?" Seven asked curiously, taking another croissant, this time spreading it with a greyish spread which tasted of meat. It was also very tasty, and she savored the unusual texture. "Where you could program a park setting?"

"Because we have to be 'outside'," Janeway said. She glanced upward. "Computer, alter hull visibility."

The walls and floor immediately seemed to disappear, leaving the pair suspended in space while stars streaked by beside and below them. The snowy hull of Voyager stretched majestically above them, and Seven could see all the way to the fore part of the underside of the ship where the name and call letters were emblazoned. She glanced back at Janeway who was regarding her as if she had expecting something more.

"Most people usually react differently when suddenly dropped into space," Janeway said in an odd sort of tone.

Seven frowned. "The Borg often work in vacuum," she pointed out. "In any event, we are not truly in space."

"No, we're not," Janeway acceded, offering a somewhat bittersweet smile.

Seven realized that she had disappointed Janeway in some undefinable way, and she looked around again. "It is very ... dark," she tried.

Janeway laughed suddenly. "It's okay, Annika," she said ruefully. "I shouldn't have expected you to react like the average Human."

"Did you think I would be frightened?" Seven asked.

Janeway thought about it. "Perhaps," she admitted. "What I really hoped, however, is that you would feel what I feel."

"How is that?" Seven asked.

"Exhilarated," Janeway said, looking around. "As if the ship doesn't exist, and we're traveling through space itself, like creatures born here."

Seven tried to imagine being a creature who had evolved in space, not needing artificial life support. She had only a dim idea of what Janeway was feeling.

"I am sorry," she said, meaning it.

Janeway shook her head, and moved over until she was beside Seven, putting a hand on her arm. "No, darling," she said warmly. "It's not necessary that you feel what I do. Just that you understand it."

"I do," Seven said. She hesitated. "Thank you for sharing this with me."

"You're welcome," Janeway said, staring at her. "I can't believe I didn't before."

Seven tried to find a way to respond to that. "You are not the same person as you were before your injury," she said finally.

Janeway tilted her head slightly. "No, I'm not," she agreed gently. "I'm glad you realize that."

"I am beginning to," Seven admitted. "It is something I am having difficulty with, however. It is very hard."

Sliding her hand down Seven's arm, Janeway entwined her fingers with those of the Borg's. She dipped her head to capture the young woman's gaze. "Do you think you could love the person I am now?" she asked quietly.

Seven looked at her. "I want to," she said. "Very much, but I am not sure how." She hesitated, trying to find the right words. "I feel as if loving you now, means that what I felt before was somehow ... false."

"Oh, it wasn't false," Janeway said gently. "It was very real. I felt it here." She drew Seven's hand up, resting it on her chest where the Borg could feel the captain's heartbeat. "Darling, it's not as if I've forgotten you completely, or what we shared."

"No?" Seven asked.

"No," Janeway said softly. "I remember different things about us ... such as lying in your arms beneath the stars, and feeling as if I've finally come home. Or sitting next to you on the couch, your arm around me, feeling so safe and secure while we talk about nothing in particular. Or crying so hard I can barely breathe, and you're holding me so tight, telling me that you will never leave me again, making me feel as if the universe had just fallen from my shoulders. Another memory of being so angry at you, I just wanted to knock you through the cargo bay hull, but all I could do is confine you to quarters. Bits and pieces that are not a complete pattern, but are a part of who I am now. In every memory, the emotion I feel for you is so powerful. Those fragments help make up the whole of what I feel for you now."

She moved closer and leaned her head on Seven's shoulder. "Annika, I'm sure what I feel for you is love. The question is, what do you feel for me?"

Seven wrapped her arms around Janeway, and drew her close, resting her chin on the tousled hair as she closed her eyes. She could feel her heart pound so hard, she thought it would explode as she tried to forget everything that had come before, tried to concentrate only on what she was feeling at this second, with this woman who shared her home, who sent her flowers and offered her breakfast in bed, who seemed more quick to anger, yet, at the same time, was also more open with the rest of her feelings. Who would take her on a 'picnic' in a place Seven didn't even know existed, yet was clearly one of the captain's favorite spots on the ship.

"I believe," Seven said slowly. "That I can love you. I know I can not imagine existing without you."

Janeway hugged her tightly. "That's all I can ask for now," she said softly. "The rest will come."

Seven drew back and looked into the elegant face, studying it with an absorption that the captain allowed patiently. Finally, she bent down and kissed Janeway carefully, but not as she had in the recent past. No longer holding back, but instead, opening herself to all the emotion she was feeling, Seven allowed the uncertainty and fear to seep through. In the kiss, she felt the warmth of honest love, and the acceptance of her as she was, understanding of her weakness, gathering it up and offering a shared strength and devotion in return.

"Please, help me," she whispered when they finally parted, resting her forehead against Janeway's.

"I will," the captain told her firmly. "You and I belong together, Annika. We'll find our way back. We're getting closer every day."

"Yes," Seven agreed softly. She felt Janeway's palm cup her cheek, warm, loving, and she leaned into it, feeling as if she had somehow accomplished something, and could now rest for a brief period in these arms which would keep her safe and secure.

"Hey," Janeway said after a long while, softly, teasingly. "The croissants are getting cold, and the brie's getting warm."

Seven opened her eyes and looked into a gaze which was deeply azure, smiling gently. "I would not want them to go to waste," she allowed. "They are very good."

Janeway returned the smile, and sitting side by side, they finished the croissants and the cheese. Later, Janeway reclined against the transparent wall, legs outstretched, coxing Seven into putting her head on the captain's lap where she fed her grapes, one after another.

Seven could not seem to take her eyes off Janeway's face, staring hard as if that could somehow allow her to see the changes in her. Janeway tolerated the scrutiny with a sort of gentle amusement, and when Seven gently kissed the fingers placing the grape carefully in her mouth, she could see that the captain was honestly pleased. Seven realized that it had been some time since she had initiated any physically affectionate gestures.

"I enjoy this," Seven said softly. "I like picnics. You have introduced me to many things recently."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to understand that," she said. "I don't know if I should be glad that I have the opportunity to share new things with you now, or be angry that I held so much back before."

Seven blinked. "I do not understand."

Janeway pursed her lips, clearly searching for the proper words. "I think that even though I loved you, Annika, I kept a part of myself hidden from you," she said quietly. "At least, that's the impression I get from my logs, from what I discover everyday of being with you. I'm left with the feeling that you don't know me very well, probably because I didn't want you to."

"Why not?" Seven asked curiously.

Janeway took a breath. "Perhaps, I was afraid," she admitted. "Perhaps, I thought that if you knew me too well, you wouldn't love me."

Seven considered that. "And now?"

"Now," Janeway said thoughtfully, "I'm learning to know myself all over again. Part of that is realizing that I can't hold things back from you, not if I want you to love me."

"I do want to know you," Seven admitted softly.

Janeway smiled gently. "I also don't think I knew you as well as I originally thought I did either," she said quietly. "My logs indicated that I felt you were too young for me, that I sometimes treated you very much as the subordinate member in the relationship. I made decisions for you, assumed responsibility for us as a couple, and expected you to accede to whatever I wanted. That might work if I was only your captain. You might have even accepted it as normal in the beginning, because of where you were in your development, but it's certainly not acceptable now. However inexperienced you were when we began our relationship, the woman I'm learning to know now is a very complex and mature individual; in some ways, far more mature than you should be. You are remarkably intelligent, infinitely intriguing, and boasting the warmest and gentlest heart I've ever known. How could I not fall completely and madly in love with you?"

Seven was silent for a long while. "You've rarely talked with me like this before," she said finally.

"No, I don't suppose I have," Janeway agreed. "I've always been a person of action, Annika, not introspection. The injury has inspired me to examine my life, forced me to learn why I did the things I did, as well as allowing me to be a little more aware of how I act, not only with you, but with everyone. It hasn't been easy, but I think in some ways, it's been a very good thing."

"It would be nice to think some good came of this," Seven said wistfully.

"It did, my love," Janeway said softly, leaning down to kiss Seven gently. "I have the chance to know you all over again."

Janeway completed her testimony, and looked expectantly at Lt. Kim. She had answered as honestly as she knew how to both his questions, and Tuvok's, holding nothing back, though she had the idea that her lack of memory did not make her an especially good witness for either side. She wondered when Seven would be called, and what she would have to add.

"Captain Janeway," Harry said. "Is it possible that Lt. James believed that the senior crew would be unhelpful in dealing with her problem?"

"Objection," Tuvok said calmly, standing up at his prosecution table. "The question calls for speculation on the part of the witness. How could Captain Janeway know what James believed?"

"Sustained," the Doctor said gravely.

Janeway flicked a glance his way. The Emergency Medical Hologram was taking his role as senior judge advocate extremely seriously, though the other two were equally as grave. Neelix, and Ensign Samantha Wildman from the science department sat attentively to either side of the Doctor, listening closely to everything that was going on.

The captain knew she had surprised a lot of the crew with her choices, but Neelix's compassion and subjective view of Starfleet protocols would give a nice balance to the panel. Wildman, meanwhile, was a Starfleet officer through and through, as well as a peer of Angela James, having attended the Academy at the same time though she had not known her then nor particularly well, now. She was level headed, responsible, and would go out of her way to be as fair as she could. It was perhaps a greater burden than the ensign thought she was ready for, but the captain had every confidence in her.

"I will rephrase the question," Harry said. "Captain, if Lt. James had come to you, telling you that Torres had threatened her life, what would have been your response?"

Janeway thought. "I would have tried to reassure her that Lt. Torres would never have hurt her," she said. "That it was a misunderstanding."

"Captain, has a Klingon ever threatened your life?" he asked.

She hesitated. "No," she said.

"If one did, would you take it seriously?"

"Yes, I would," she said slowly. "Klingons tend to mean what they say, but Lt. Torres is not a full Klingon. She is a hybrid."

"Suppose she was Human and threatened her life," he said. "Would you take that seriously?"

"It would depend on the person," Janeway said doggedly. "B'Elanna is sound and fury, signifying little."

"But Lt. James would have to know Torres that well," Harry said with triumph flavoring his voice. "It's clear from your response that if she had come to you, you would have brushed her off, considered her complaint insignificant. She would have received no help in dealing with a homicidal Klingon."

"I didn't say that," Janeway blurted.

Lt. Kim looked at her in a rather supercilious fashion, and Janeway resisted the urge to clout him across the head. "Captain, did you know about Lt. Torres threatening Lt. James at the time?"

"I don't know," Janeway replied regretfully. "I can't remember."

He nodded, eyeing her with a heavy lidded gaze. "If it is proven that you were aware of the threat and did nothing?" he asked. "How would you feel then?"

Janeway took a breath. "Then I would have let down a crewmember," she said, her heart sinking. "I would regret it thoroughly."

"No further questions."

She took a breath, slightly annoyed and looked at Tuvok, expecting him to cross examine her, not letting it end on such a bad note, but he merely looked at the panel of judges. "No further questions," he said.

"Will either of you be recalling this witness?" the Doctor asked.

"No," Lt. Kim said, putting notations in his padd.

"No," Tuvok said. He stood up. "The prosecution rests."

The Doctor looked at Janeway. "You may be excused," he said. "The defense will now present its case."

Uncertainly, she got up and left the stand. Since she was now free of future testimony, she was allowed to remain as a spectator, the only person on the ship who could. This was a closed trial, with only a few details being released as it progressed. Once complete, the entire transcript would be available, but in the meantime, there was no need to stir up the ship any more than it already was.

She leaned over to Tuvok in front of her. "Why didn't you question me again?" she asked in a low tone.

"It would have been illogical to do so," he replied shortly. "It would have only granted Lt. Kim's point a significance that it did not deserve."

Janeway tried to wrap her mind around that one, and settled back in her chair, wishing she hadn't been the last to give testimony for the prosecution. As a result, she had missed most of what Tuvok had presented, though she knew he had called a variety of other people, including B'Elanna Torres, James's roommate, Ensign Watts, and Chakotay. He had not called Seven and that confused her. Seven had been present when most of this went on.

"The Defense would like to call its first witness," Lt. Kim said. "Seven of Nine."

Startled, Janeway looked back as Seven entered the room. The Borg, alerted that she would be called next, would have been waiting in the outer corridor where security had two guards keeping people not involved in the trial clear of the area.

Seven was a witness for the defense? Janeway thought with confusion. When had that happened? The Borg had practically strangled the woman when she caught her.

Seven was dressed demurely in her brown mesh outfit, every hair in place as she sat primly in her seat, hands folded neatly on her lap. Her gaze briefly intersected with the captain's, but did not linger. Clearly she was taking her role very seriously, and Janeway was proud of her.

"Seven of Nine," Lt. Kim said, standing up and strolling over to her. "Will you tell the court what happened Stardate 69432,"

Seven raised an eyebrow. "I regained consciousness at 0500," she said precisely, in a cool, contained voice. "Captain Janeway was sleeping on top of my back which made it impossible for me to move without disturbing her. As a result, I waited until she woke twenty minutes later. At which time she kissed my ear and my neck, attempting to initiate---"

"In the evening, Seven," Lt. Kim interrupted hastily. "At approximately 2100."

Janeway smothered a smile. She thought she saw Samantha Wildman do the same.

"I was in the ensuite preparing for bed," Seven said. "A call came over the communicator from B'Elanna Torres indicating that Lt. James had entered her quarters and attempted to kill her with a phaser. Lt. Torres was pursuing and continually keeping us updated as to her progress. When the Captain and I left the turbolift on deck nine, I could hear their motion as they approached our location. Lt. James ran around the corner and directly into me which allowed me to apprehend her."

"What was the captain doing at this time," Harry asked.

"She was holding B'Elanna against the hull," Seven replied promptly.

"Why?" Kim eyed her closely.

A faint unease passed over Seven's face, but she did not hesitate in her answer.

"She was preventing Lt. Torres from attacking Lt. James."

Harry offered the judges panel a significant look. "If the captain had not been there, what would have happened?" he asked.

"I would have terminated Lt. James," Seven said matter of factly.

Janeway winced, but knew it to be true.

"I mean with Lt. Torres," Harry said. "You're not on trial here," he added in friendlier voice.

"Neither is Lt. Torres," Seven responded rather pointedly.

Harry paused, apparently realizing he had made a bit of an error. "Seven, if Lt. Torres had captured Lt. James, do you believe she would have killed her?"

"Objection," Tuvok said. "Calls for speculation."

"Sustained," the Doctor said. Janeway expected that. Tuvok would not object unless it was a point of law and irrefutable.

Lt. Kim walked away for a moment, checked his padd and returned. "Seven of Nine, did Lt. Torres ever threaten Lt. James in your presence?"

Seven hesitated. "Yes," she said finally.

"Will you please list the occasions in detail," Harry said.

Now, Seven glanced at Janeway as if for guidance. Unfortunately, the captain could not give it though she did try to show all her love and support in her eyes, offering what she hoped was an encouraging expression.

Seven took a breath and began to list the times that she had heard Lt. Torres threaten the life of the young woman. It took some time since there were twenty-nine separate occasions, varying only in the degree of imaginative ways by which the engineer was planning on doing the woman in.

Harry looked more and more satisfied as the list went on, while Seven grew more and more subdued. She finally finished, head bent, studying her hands. Janeway's heart went out to her, and anger flared within her at Harry, though she knew he was only doing his job.

"Seven of Nine," Harry said. "Did B'Elanna Torres try to kill Lt. James after you had captured her?"

"She could not," Seven said stubbornly.

"Why?" he prodded silkily.

Seven glanced up at Janeway. "Because the captain was holding her back," she said faintly.

"No further questions," Harry said.

Tuvok stood up. He did not even bother approaching the stand.

"Seven of Nine, how many times have you heard B'Elanna Torres threaten your life?" he asked.

"Seventeen times," she replied.

"And Commander Chakotay's?"

"Before or after they began copulating?"

Janeway's lips twitched as she saw Tuvok's neck muscles tighten, but the Vulcan gave no indication in his voice. "Both."

"Before, four times," Seven said. "After, ten."

"Mr. Kim?"

"Twenty-one times. It has increased significantly in the past two weeks."

Janeway thought she saw Harry flinch a bit.

"Mr. Paris?"

"Four hundred, ninety-three times," Seven said, and Samantha Wildman made a sound, not a laugh exactly, more like one she had to suppress.

"Myself," Tuvok asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nineteen times," Seven said.

"The captain?"

Seven raised her head. "Never," she said.

Janeway could feel the surprise in the room. She herself was somewhat startled by the answer.

"Never?" Tuvok echoed.

Seven hesitated. "I have never heard her threaten the captain," she said.

"Why not?" Tuvok asked. It was obvious it had nothing to do with the case, but Harry did not object. Perhaps he was curious, as well.

"Because if she did, I would hold her upside down over the nearest catwalk until she retracted it," Seven replied. "I believe she was aware of that."

Another sound from Wildman, and even Neelix, who was uncharacteristically sober smiled faintly. The Doctor smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"Is the prosecution going somewhere with this?" he asked.

"Only to show a pattern of voiced threats that ultimately mean no harm," Tuvok stated. "Even with people Lt. Torres loved. She is indeed sound and fury signifying little, just as the captain has testified. Everyone on the ship knew that. No further questions."

Janeway hoped B'Elanna would never read the transcript of this trial. She'd go ballistic.

The Doctor looked at Harry Kim. "Does the defense have anything further to ask of this witness?"

Harry stood up. "Yes," he said in a firm voice. "Seven, while Lt. Torres may not have attacked anyone else she had threatened, you did see the captain trying to prevent her from attacking Lt. James. Correct?"

Seven hesitated. "Yes," she said.

"You also know of an instance when Lt. Torres cornered the defendant in a corridor and verbally abused her, as well as physically pushing her against a bulkhead?"

"Lt. Torres told me, yes," Seven said.

"Did you tell the captain of this?" he asked.

Seven blinked. "I tell Kathryn everything," she said.

"What was the captain's reaction?"

Seven looked thoughtful. "She indicated that it was none of her concern," she said. "That it was a matter for Lt. Torres and Lt. James to work out, and she advised me not to tell anyone else."

Janeway felt her head pound. There was no question this was probably being taken out of context, but she had no way of putting her finger on where, completely unable to remember the incident, at all.

Harry looked at the panel of judges. "No further questions."

"Cross?" the Doctor asked Tuvok.

"Yes," Tuvok said. He stood up and approached the stand. "Seven, do you understand why the captain indicated it was none of her concern?"

Harry stood. "Objection," he said. "Calls for speculation."

"Esteemed panel," Tuvok said. "Seven is partnered with Captain Janeway, and knows her better than anyone. With the captain's memory loss, only Seven could offer some clue as to why the captain would overlook this."

The Doctor held up his hand. "One moment," he said. He, Neelix and Wildman huddled briefly, conversing in very low tones, then the Doctor looked at Tuvok. "The objection is sustained. Regardless of Seven's personal relationship with the captain, she cannot speak for her."

Tuvok took a breath and tried again. "Seven, when you told the captain this, how did you tell her? Can you tell me the setting where the conversation regarding this bit of information took place?"

Seven regarded him with wide eyes. "It was while I was preparing dinner for myself and the captain," she said slowly. "The captain usually sits by the counter and watches as I carry out my tasks. I was telling her the many things which were happening on the ship, and I mentioned that Lt. Torres had challenged Lt. James because the science officer had been saying negative things about the engineer. The Captain informed me that such information, as well as the other data I was relating to her, was 'gossip', and that I had too great an interest in things that did not concern me. That I should not acquire such a unfortunate habit from Lt. Torres."

"So it was a casual mention, amongst a great many other items of data regarding the personal lives of the crew," Tuvok said. "No more important than the fact Harry Kim has a 'crush' on you."

Harry stood up, clearly offended but could not formulate a proper objection. The Doctor frowned at Tuvok. "The prosecution will refrain from baiting the defense counsel," he said.

"That was not my intention," Tuvok said with such Vulcan aplomb that Janeway knew it had been exactly his intent.

He looked back at Seven. "You gave it no emphasis," he clarified. "Did you think that B'Elanna was serious in her threat against Lt. James?"

"I did not at the time," Seven said, her face clouded. Janeway realized that the young woman was becoming upset and confused by what was happening. She firmed her jaw, hoping that Tuvok was aware of that as well.

"And now?" Tuvok said.

"I ... I do not know," Seven said softly. Janeway closed her eyes, knowing Tuvok had asked one question too many. However, if he had not, Harry was ready to, practically straining forward as he sat in his chair. "No further questions," Tuvok said hastily. "The prosecution no longer requires this witness."

The Doctor looked at Harry who had settled back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face. "No further questions," he said. "Defense is also finished with this witness."

"You may step down," The Doctor told Seven, then tapped the bell on the desk, a holdover from ancient Terran naval tradition, startling everyone, including his fellow judges. "Due to the late hour, we will suspend proceedings until tomorrow at 1400 hours. Any objections?"

Neither Tuvok nor Harry had any, and the two security guards standing quietly by the door took a position on either side of Lt. James to lead her back to the brig. The brunette woman looked rather distant, as if not quite totally comprehending what was going on around her. It occurred to Janeway that perhaps the woman was mentally incompetent, and if that were the case, then some sort of psychological evaluation should have been made. She wondered if anyone had ordered it, and resolved to find out as soon as possible ... not that they exactly had any qualified psychologists on board. It was one of those moments when she keenly felt the isolation Voyager dealt with in the Delta Quadrant.

Then, her attention was taken by Seven who seemed uncertain what to do next, hovering next to the witness stand. Janeway went over to her, putting her hand on the young Borg's elbow.

"You did fine," she said immediately.

Seven regarded her with clouded eyes. "I do not agree," she said, very subdued. "I made it sound as if B'Elanna was at fault, even though Lt. James is the one being tried. I did not mean to."

"Seven, it's all right," Janeway said. Seven looked unconvinced, and Janeway squeezed her elbow comfortingly. "C'mon, let's go home."

As soon as they entered their quarters, Seven went over to the kitchenette, replicating Jake's dinner. They were late this evening, and the puppy was voicing his dismay quite loudly at having to wait, despite the captain's attempts to quiet him. The Borg wondered if some sort of automatic feeding system could be developed, and she tried to concentrate on that as she worked. Mentally designing a device was preferable to thinking about what had happened on the witness stand. She did not know how she had managed to make such a mess of it, and her mind kept coming up with alternative ways in which she should have answered. She placed Jake's dish on the deck along with a bowl of fresh water, and turned to the kitchenette, intend on feeding the couple, as well. The captain intercepted her, grasping her arms tightly.

"Come sit with me for a moment," she requested quietly.

Bemused, Seven stared into her partner's concerned features, and allowed Janeway to lead her over to the couch where they sat down side by side.

"Annika, I don't want you to feel responsible for any of this," Janeway told her. She took a breath, looking at her so intently that Seven knew she really wanted the young Borg to listen to her. "When I was in Starfleet Academy, I learned that a Starfleet officer's first duty was to the truth, be it ethical truth, scientific truth, or personal truth. We may not always like that truth, we may wish we did not have to deal with it, but it is still our most important responsibility."

"I am not a Starfleet officer," Seven said flatly.

"No, but I expect you to act as such while you are a member of my crew," Janeway said. "I may overlook certain exceptions in your case, but not here. Truth is all that matters, and you told the truth exactly as you knew it."

"It did not feel like the truth," Seven said unhappily.

"Perhaps, but it was still the truth," Janeway said. "It is not your responsibility for how that truth is perceived by the court. You don't have the right to assume that power. That belongs to the panel of judges. Do you understand me?"

"No," Seven said.

Janeway sighed, and took Seven's hand. "Annika, you did nothing wrong," she said. "Not in my eyes nor in B'Elanna's eyes had she been there. Yet, even if I, or anyone else, were upset with you for speaking the truth, you cannot let that stop you. Your duty to the truth is more important."

"The truth may have hurt B'Elanna," Seven objected plaintively. "As wall as assisting the one who attempted to harm her, and you."

"I know," Janeway said softly. "But believe me Seven, not telling the truth always hurts worse in the long run. Always."

Seven regarded her, gauging the sincerity of the captain. Janeway returned her scrutiny evenly, her eyes dark and grey, somber and completely honest. Seven took a breath, feeling a little easier with it, though she still did not quite understand everything. She bent her head, closing her eyes, and felt Janeway's hand go to the back of her neck, rubbing it gently.

"Why don't you let me make dinner tonight," the captain urged, as she massaged the young woman's neck. "You should try to relax for awhile, unwind a little."

Seven opened her eyes, glancing at her sideways.

"Will you prepare another picnic?" she asked hopefully.

Janeway's mouth quirked. "I think that would be difficult with Jake in the area," she said.

Seven looked at the puppy who had vacuumed up his supper in mere seconds. He had brought his ball over to the couple while they had been talking and when that didn't work, he had gone back and got a squeaky toy. By now, all his toys were at the women's feet, as well as two bones, and his supper dish. Now, he was attempting to drag over his bed in an attempt to give them the full range of selection in which to play 'fetch' with.

"I believe you are correct," Seven allowed with a small smile.

Janeway returned the smile. "I promise, it'll be something you enjoy," she said, stroking her cheek.

Seven felt a little better as she began to gather the toys up, managing to place them all back in Jake's 'area', the corner just outside the door leading to the bedroom, despite the puppy's helpful dragging them about whenever she put one down. She could smell the spicy aroma of Bajoran flaugh materializing in the replicator, a dish which the Borg had become especially fond, and she felt her heart warm as she washed her hands prior to setting the table.

After dinner, Janeway urged Seven to change into something a little more comfortable while she took care of the cleaning up. Seven didn't quite know what 'more comfortable' meant, but she obligingly went into the bedroom and changed out of her outfit, donning some pyjamas that Janeway had presented to her a day earlier. There had been several pairs, in a variety of shades and materials, differing greatly from the bland, iron-grey Starfleet issue she normally wore to bed. She did not know exactly why Janeway had given them to her, but she was very appreciative of the present. She chose a pair, made of a fine, pale blue, silken material which slipped over her skin provocatively as she moved.

The look in Janeway's eyes when Seven came out gave her slight pause, but the captain merely nodded gently.

"You look very beautiful," she said calmly.

Seven blushed, pleased at the compliment. "Thank you," she said. She rather enjoyed the sensation of satin against her body, and she curled up on the couch, feeling odd as she watched Janeway spend several minutes playing with Jake.

"I think I should design a method for Jake to be fed automatically," she said, trying to ignore how her body was reacting, hoping that talking about something ... anything ... would divert the emotions she was suddenly experiencing.

"That's a good idea," Janeway agreed, as she settled on the couch next to Seven. She reached over and grasped Seven's ankle, drawing the bare foot up onto her lap where she proceeded to massage it gently. Jake leaped up onto the cushions, curling up on the other side of the captain, plopping his head down on her thigh where he sighed gustily, his breath tickling Seven's sole.

Startled, Seven regarded Janeway uncertainly. The captain merely returned her gaze blandly, as if she did not notice what was on her lap, or what her hand was doing.  "So what did you have in mind that would feed Jake when we're not here?" she asked idly.

"I think if I create some sort of dispenser with a timer, it could fulfill the function adequately," Seven offered slowly, feeling tingles go all the way up her leg as Janeway's fingers gently probed her foot.

"I'm sure that would work," Janeway agreed thoughtfully. "However, it would have to be strong enough to withstand any attempt he might make to get inside it. It wouldn't take him long to figure out food was coming from within."

Seven nodded, unable to think clearly enough to come up with a response to that. "What are you doing?" she blurted finally.

Janeway looked vaguely surprised. "Rubbing your feet," she said. "You don't like it?"

Seven hesitated. "I did not say that," she said finally. "It is just that you have never done this before."

Janeway shook her head. "Haven't I?" she said sadly. "I really haven't been a very good partner for you, have I?" She ran her thumbnail down the instep, making Seven jump slightly. "This is supposed to relax you."

"It does not feel very relaxing," Seven murmured.

Janeway eyed her, stilling her fingers. "Do you want me to stop?" she asked quietly.

Seven stared at her, feeling her heart flutter in her chest, almost as if it were trying to escape. "No," she said faintly.

Janeway smiled at her, and resumed the massage, using both hands now. "You could give me your other foot," she suggested.

Seven did so, placing both her feet carefully on Janeway's lap. She swallowed hard as she felt the long, talented fingers gently sooth and fondle them, wondering how two things that she had previously thought were nothing more than appendages stuck on the end of her legs could feel so incredibly wonderful. Yet, not in the way that the captain seemed to think it should feel.

"Do you like this?" Seven asked, after a few moments.

"Having my feet rubbed?" Janeway responded. "Definitely. It's a wonderful way to relax after a stressful day. It can almost put me to sleep."

"I shall remember that," Seven said. She did not have to look down to know her nipples were hard, aching as they poked against the thin material of her top. She wondered if the captain had noticed, and what she should do next.

I am not reacting properly to what she is doing, she decided. It is not relaxing me. I must leave. She pulled her feet away from the captain, standing abruptly. "It is time for me to go to bed," she said, and quickly left the living area, ignoring Janeway's astonished expression.

She climbed into bed, huddling on her side as close to the edge as possible without falling off. Twenty minutes later, the captain entered the bedroom, passing through to the ensuite where Seven heard her move about, performing her ablutions. The bed dipped as Janeway finally joined her, and Seven froze, hoping Kathryn would think she was already asleep. Miserably, she wondered if Kathryn was angry with her, then she jerked as Janeway's arms suddenly encircled her waist from behind, the captain rising up to gently kiss her ear.

"I know you were aroused, Annika," Janeway said softly. "However, it doesn't mean you have to act on it, or even that you're ready to act on it." She hugged her affectionately. "Don't let it bother you."

Seven took a breath, feeling her chest ache as tears stung her eyes. "I am so confused," she said sadly. "I do not know what I am feeling."

"I know," Janeway said soothingly. She brushed her lips over her temple. "Annika, please let me help. This is hurting you so much, and that's more than I can bear. Would you rather I not touch you at all?"

"No!" Seven blurted, aghast at the idea.

She rolled over into the slender arms that welcomed her unconditionally, Janeway holding her tenderly, lovingly, without any hint of demand or insistence. The embrace filled Seven with a warmth and gentle reassurance which finally allowed her to relax against the captain's body, sighing as Janeway brought her head down to the captain's shoulder, stroking her long, blonde hair with a soothing rhythm.

"It's been a long hard day, my love," the captain said comfortingly. "I think your physical response just caught you by surprise."

"I do not know why I responded that way," Seven whispered. "I want to be with you ... yet, I do not feel ready..."

"Sometimes the body can act independent of the mind," Janeway said quietly, "Don't let it upset you."

"I will try," Seven said.

She closed her eyes wearily, feeling the stress of the day slide away as Janeway cuddled her, stroked her, hoping that the next day would bring less confusion and more clarity.

In every aspect of her life.

Tuvok's brows lowered as he input data into his padd, his quarters dimly lit with his meditation lamp. He was quite dissatisfied with his performance the previous day, and he resolved to do better. In truth, he had underestimated young Mr. Kim. The lieutenant was providing a strong opposition, and where once Tuvok had considered this a rather undemanding duty, it was now turning out to be a formidable challenge.

The chime to his door sounded and he glanced up, wondering who would be coming to see him at such an early hour, the alpha shift having yet to start. "Come in."

Voyager's captain entered, and he raised an eyebrow. "Captain," he greeted. "Is this becoming a habit?"

"Taking the opportunity when I can," she said, taking her traditional seat. "You're a busy man."

"How may I help you?" he asked, though he had a pretty good idea what she wanted.

"The trial," she said. "I realize I didn't have the opportunity to view most of the proceedings but I would have to think yesterday did your case little good," she said. She made a face. "I wasn't a very good witness for you. Did you know Seven would represent the defense?"

"Captain, you were perfectly adequate as a witness," he said calmly. "As for Seven, yes, I was aware that Mr. Kim would be calling her. He informed me of it so that I would not call on her for the prosecution." He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers and regarding her evenly. "Captain, I assure you, what happened yesterday hardly undid the case I had presented. Many people, including the woman's roommate, have testified that Lt. James possessed an irrational attitude toward Lt. Torres and her relationship with Chakotay, as well as a totally unrealistic view of personal behavior." He picked up a padd, made a few notations and handed it to the captain. "Here's a transcript of the first part of the trial. This will give you a better idea of how the witnesses testified as to her aberrant thought processes."

Janeway frowned, studying the small screen. "Is Lt. James competent to stand trial, Tuvok?" she asked anxiously. "Was that considered?"

Tuvok dipped his head. "It was, Captain," he said. "The Doctor examined her, and it was his opinion that while she may show certain indications of neurotic behavior, she is competent to stand trial. She does know the difference between right and wrong and she is capable of comprehending all that is going on."

Janeway looked worried.  "Could that be a problem?" she asked.  "The Doctor determining her competency, then acting as a judge in her case?"

Tuvok tilted his head thoughtfully.  "Possibly," he allowed. "However, I do not believe Mr. Kim is going to pursue a temporary insanity plea. If he does, I am fully prepared to counter it."

Janeway sighed. "We lack the personnel and the facilities to grant James a trial above reproach," she said. "It worries me, Tuvok."

"The crew is aware of our limitations, Captain," Tuvok assured her. "And they know that James is receiving the best possible treatment she could be expected to get. Even she knows that. She understands completely what is happening, Captain."

Janeway shook her head slightly. "I didn't get that impression, yesterday," she said.

"Captain, you are seeing a facade," he said, nodding at the padd she was holding in her hands. "I am certain that once you read that transcript, you will find that Lt. James is a woman who is, by nature, essentially self-centered, concerned only with herself, and how she can avoid repercussions of her actions."  He paused. "In truth, I am surprised that she was able to enter Starfleet at all, but I understand her family has powerful connections in the Federation which may have had some bearing on that."

"She has always seemed a very competent officer," Janeway objected mildly.

"That may be," Tuvok remarked. "However, her personal life is somewhat different than her professional one. She displays traits and patterns which are distinctly disturbing in how she has acted in previous romantic encounters,  refusing to accept certain realities and then acting inappropriately as a result.  Somehow, she has not had to accept responsibility for anything she has ever done, always managing to blame others. Until now."

"Was she forced into these actions by others?" Janeway asked keenly.

"I do not believe so," Tuvok responded. "However, that is what the trial is attempting to clarify. It is not about the crimes, or even whether Lt. James committed them. It is trying to discover if she has any justification for claiming self defense."

"Is it a viable defense?" Janeway asked, brows lowered.

Tuvok raised a brow. "Perhaps," he allowed. "There is precedent. On Earth itself, in the latter part of the twentieth century, weapons known as handguns were quite common, and frequently used to kill unarmed and completely harmless individuals, usually family members. The defendants were often freed on the basis that they truly believed they were in danger, and were only defending themselves. Or that they were 'accidents'."

"Really?" Janeway said, voice tinged with disbelief.

"It was an extremely stressful period of history," Tuvok allowed. "People felt endangered all the time, and anything could set off their self-preservation instincts. The profusion of handguns made such overreaction a fatal consequence in many instances. A person could be asleep, hear someone moving about their dwelling, pick up a weapon believing that it was an intruder and fire, finding out only after the fact that they had shot dead their spouse coming home late, a child going for a drink of water, or even the family pet. On the rare occasion that they actually did manage to halt an intruder intent on violating their personal rights, they were viewed as heroes, rather than as having acted in a dangerously negligent fashion. It was very illogical, but Humans had a great fondness for weapons, particularly in an area know as the United States of America. They considered such incidents an acceptable trade off for their 'right to bear arms'."

"Is that what happened here?" Janeway asked. "Are we existing in such an atmosphere of constant stress that Lt. James could only react to a perceived threat with deadly force?"

"That is her defense, Captain," Tuvok said. "However, I do not believe the facts bear that out. No one else takes Lt. Torres's temper that seriously. Not even Lt. Torres. Certainly, the methods James used to 'defend' herself were too carefully constructed and planned, to come from a sense of 'uncontrollable terror'."

Janeway studied her fingers which were laced and resting on her lap. A moment passed as Tuvok waited patiently for her next question. "Seven was quite upset yesterday," she said softly, changing the subject.

"I regret that, Captain," Tuvok noted honestly. "Had I been quick enough to secure her as a witness for the prosecution, I would have been able to better prepare her. I do not believe Mr. Kim offered such assistance, nor was it his intention to do so. Seven's confusion by the proceedings benefitted his client." He paused. "I was remiss in noting how confused she had become, however." He raised his eyes to the captain. "I will speak to her once the trial is complete, help her understand what has happened."

Janeway's eyes warmed perceptibly as she regarded him. "That would be very nice of you, Tuvok," she said quietly. "Your opinion means a lot to her."

He studied her for a moment. "How is the 'wooing' progressing, Captain?" he asked.

Janeway's mouth twitched, humor suddenly glinting in her blue-grey gaze. "Slow, Tuvok," she admitted. "Yet, steady, with only a few setbacks here and there. I'm touched you asked, however."

Tuvok returned her look impassively. "I consider you both to be my friends," he said evenly. "You make a suitable pairing. I regret that you are required to go through such a unfortunate period in your relationship." He hesitated. "May I ask what you have accomplished so far?"

Janeway regarded him narrowly. "I've been sending her flowers," she said dryly. "Made her breakfast in bed, took her to the beach, gave her presents of silky sleep-wear, took her on a picnic in a special area, gave her a foot massage ... shall I go on? Does this meet with your approval?"

Tuvok knew that he had amused her. Since that meant she was no longer agonizing over the trial, he stretched it out a little further. "Have you considered candy," he offered helpfully. "Or poetry? Perhaps a bottle of perfume would suffice."

Janeway blinked. "Is that how you won your wife?" she asked in an odd tone.

He raised an eyebrow. "Captain, Vulcans do not require such gestures," he said reproachfully. "However, Seven is not a Vulcan. Are you sure you've thought of everything?"

Janeway went to respond, hesitated, then tilted her head. "If I thought you were putting me on for just a second..." she warned.

"I am not, Captain," Tuvok responded, allowing an injured tone to creep into his voice. Just a touch. No need to go overboard.

Janeway gave him her full and complete attention. "Tuvok, is this your way of telling me to concentrate on Seven, and let you concentrate on the trial?"

Tuvok inhaled slowly. Sometimes Janeway was more astute than he gave her credit for. A bad habit on his part.

"Is that what you believe, Captain?" he responded, answering her question with another one.

"I don't know," she said, a wry grin touching her lips. "I'll have to think about it some more."

Tuvok dipped his head, allowing the point. She got up then and he followed suit, escorting her to the door.

"Will you keep me updated, Tuvok?" she requested, as she stepped into the corridor.

"I shall," he promised. He wanted to ask her to keep him updated with her 'wooing', but thought he had already revealed too much. He was not at his best early in the morning.

He watched as she strode briskly away and wondered how he should approach the next surprise Harry Kim threw his way.

The slender, diminutive Angela James, her long brown hair mussed, dark shadows beneath her leaf green eyes, frowned at Harry Kim, who was trying rather unsuccessfully to ignore her irritability. He sat in a chair in across a small table from her, padds scattered about the surface as he attempted to organize his day's schedule of witnesses. Outside the force field, two guards in security gold monitored the power levels, and ignored the people inside the brig.

"You should have asked the captain more questions," she pouted.

He stifled a sigh. "The captain does not remember that period of time," he said. "A condition, I might add, that you were responsible for. It doesn't help to remind the court of that."

"She knew that Torres threatened me, and did nothing," she said.

"If the captain did something every time B'Elanna threatened someone, she wouldn't have time to run the ship," Harry said with forced patience. "Tuvok pointed that out quite nicely with Seven, though the rest of her testimony was helpful to us."

James muttered something which Harry affected not to hear, something about it being the first time the ice bitch had been useful for anything.

"I just don't get you," she added unhappily. "You were way too easy on the captain. Isn't getting her on the stand, showing how incompetent she is the real reason you took this case? That's why I asked for you to represent me, because I thought you would go after their hypocrisy."

Startled, he stared at her. "What?" he said in a confused tone.

"She took Seven away from you," James reminded him, eyes suddenly glittering unpleasantly. "Just like that Klingon took Chakotay away from me."

Harry took a deep breath, feeling very uncomfortable. "I took this case because I believe everyone is entitled to a fair trial," he said. "My personal feelings about Seven or the captain have no relevance." He frowned at her. "Did you sabotage those ship components because you thought you were protecting yourself from B'Elanna?"

James hesitated. "Of course, I did," she said sullenly. "Do you think I would hurt the captain deliberately? That would be mutiny."

"Yes it would," Harry said pointedly, favoring her with a hard glance. "Angela, if this is a matter of revenge, rather than self-defense, I have to know that."

"It was self-defense," she replied and her voice grew higher, sounding younger. "There was no where I could go." She offered Harry a doe-eyed look. "If I had known you would have protected me, I would have gone to you immediately, but I was so frightened and confused."

He softened. "All right," he said in a gentler tone. "I know this has been hard on you."

"Who are you going to call today?" she asked, seeming glad to change the subject.

"Tom Paris," He said. "He can testify as to B'Elanna's temper and violent tendencies. He was always getting patched up when they were together, and that was when she was just playing. Then I'm going to call on Lt. Vorik. She defeated him in personal combat when he was going through pon farr when Vulcans are at their strongest. If I can get Lt. Carey to testify that he was attacked, with the end result being B'Elanna was made chief engineer, I can show a pattern where her behavior has been overlooked because of her capabilities. Then I'm going to start calling a variety of other personnel, who can show that they were overlooked for obvious promotions to allow non-Starfleet personnel like Seven to become members of the crew."

She gave him an admiring look. "You are so brilliant," she said. "I'm very glad you agreed to help me."

He blushed, flattered and pleased. "I'm just doing the best job I can," he mumbled. "I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," she said sincerely, placing her hand on his arm. She stared at him a moment. "Were you able to ask if I could take a walk?"

Harry brightened. The ship wasn't used to having someone confined to the brig this long, and was still adapting to having a prisoner on board. When James had asked to be allowed some kind of exercise beyond what the small confines of the room allowed, both the captain and Tuvok were agreeable. After all, where could she run? She really wasn't considered all that dangerous now. All her attacks had been indirect, allowing her to keep her distance, and the one time she had tried a direct attack, it had failed miserably, resulting in her immediate capture.

"Yes," he said. "You're allowed to go for walks as long as you're properly supervised. We could go for one right now, if you'd like."

Her eyes took on a sparkle, and he thought that she was especially pretty right then. He had always thought so, but never really did anything about it. First of all, she was of a higher rank than he was originally, then she got involved with Chakotay. It was never the right time. Of course, he reminded himself sternly, being on trial for attempted murder was hardly the 'right' time, either. Why was he always attracted to the impossible ones?

He waited outside as she neatened her appearance, brushing out her hair and touching up her face, though he wasn't sure what she did to it exactly. All he knew was that it was some mysterious process that only women seemed to learn. Then, along with two of Tuvok's security detail, a tall, blond Human named Johnson and a feisty Bolian who went by Crell ... his real name being unpronounceable ... they took a quick jaunt around the lower deck.

Kim was very aware of crewmembers staring at him, though as soon as his eyes met theirs, they quickly looked away and busied themselves with the task at hand. He knew that his acceptance of this case had won him no friends on the ship, the crew not viewing the attack on their captain with any sort of ambivalence at all. Even his present friends were uncomfortable with it. B'Elanna had stopped speaking to him altogether, and only Tom and Seven maintained any semblance of their previous attitude toward him. He suspected that even the captain was bothered by it, and he made a note to speak with her after this was all over, needing to let her know that it had absolutely nothing to do with her.

They entered the biometrics lab where they ran into Chakotay, who was deep in discussion with Tuvok. Harry tried to turn them around and vacate the lab, but it was too late. Everyone froze when they entered the area where Angela James worked when she wasn't on the bridge, and Harry wished the deck would just open up and swallow him whole.

"Lieutenant," Tuvok said coolly. He eyed Lt. James with chilly Vulcan disapproval, the woman glaring back defiantly. Chakotay seemed a little more sensitive to the situation, and at least tried to be polite, nodding to Lt. James as well as Harry.

"We were just out exercising a bit," Harry said, rather lamely. He glanced at James who was standing quietly by a lab table. Her eyes were jade chips when they met his, and he realized that he had to get her out of here. "We're on our way back, now."

"Perhaps it is unwise that you bring the prisoner to such a sensitive area, Lt. Kim," Tuvok noted evenly.

Harry felt anger flare. Tuvok had a very bad habit of speaking down to him, as if he were a complete and total idiot. He resented it, and he knew it was not beyond the realm of possibility that the security chief was the real reason he had accepted this case. To be able to beat Tuvok at his own game? It was too good a chance to pass up.

"Are you uncertain as to your people's competence?" he returned easily, dark eyes narrowed. "Surely they're be able to keep her from seizing control of the ship."

Involuntarily, they all glanced at the two security guards who towered over the slight Angela James. They had been watching the two senior officers argue with unconcealed fascination, and at the sudden scrutiny on them, Lt. Johnson blushed while Crell studied his boots intently. Tuvok raised an eyebrow.

"I am completely confident in their skills," he responded. "I was more concerned as to the affect her presence might have on the crew who used to work with her in this lab."

"Innocent until proven guilty, Tuvok," Harry reminded him pointedly, and by this time, he was standing a handsbreadth away from the black and gold clad officer, jaw stuck out rather pugnaciously.

Tuvok seemed to sense he was about to initiate some unfortunate emotional display on Lt. Kim's part, and with a vaguely sardonic look, he dipped his head and deliberately stepped back. Harry did not feel he had won the point however. Instead, he felt like he always did under the Vulcan's attention ... like an unruly child rather than a Starfleet officer in his own right. He was embarrassed, and he jerked his head at the two security guards.

"Let's get back," he said.

As they walked back to the brig, Angela put her hand on his arm. "You were wonderful, Harry," she said warmly. "I know you'll defeat anything he can come up with. He's just no match for your cleverness."

Despite himself, Harry Kim's chest swelled and he carried his head just a little higher, convinced that Tuvok wouldn't know what hit him tomorrow.

Janeway tottered out of the court martial feeling as if she had been struck across the head. Harry's case had been devastating. Had she really been that incompetent? Had she honestly been more lenient with her senior staff than the rest of the crew? Had she really cheated the Starfleet personnel while trying to merge together this group of varied individuals into one solid group, working for a single goal?

At first, she had thought B'Elanna was the one taking the blame for Lt. James actions by the defense but now it seemed, Lt. Kim was trying to show that the captain had promoted an atmosphere of personal preference over performance, of self-indulgence over discipline. The worst part was, Janeway remembered most of the incidents offered in the court room. They had occurred during the first year while she had been trying to keep Voyager intact against the Kazon, the Vidiians and a dozen other things the Delta Quadrant was constantly throwing at her. Tuvok, of course, had dissected most of the testimony with unfailing logic and analytical precision, but it still felt as if her crew completely resented her.

She was reminded suddenly, that it was her decision, and hers alone, which had stranded them in the Delta Quadrant in the first place, and as always, that thought sent a sickening wave of guilt crashing over her.

She took a breath as she walked into her quarters, wondering how she had gotten there so quickly. Obviously, she had been so lost in thought, she hadn't even noticed getting on and off the turbolift. She went into the bedroom after patting Jake, and changed out of her uniform, pulling on a blue t-shirt and some black trousers. She replicated a weak soda and whiskey, and sat on the couch, Jake hopping up beside her and draping his head on her leg. She rested her hand on his back, stroking the reddish hair absently as she sipped at her drink, staring across the room blankly.

There was the muted hiss of the door, and she looked up to see Seven who paused just inside the entrance, regarding her with a concerned look. Jake's tail thumped as he saw his other mistress, but he didn't move, wanting to stay with the captain. Perhaps he sensed something was amiss.

"What is wrong?" Seven asked.

Janeway felt her lips twitch. "What makes you think something's wrong?" she asked dryly.

"Your expression," Seven responded promptly, moving over to the captain where she knelt before her, resting her hands on Janeway's knees. "The whiskey and soda. The outfit. You only wear that shirt and pants combination when you are depressed."

Despite herself, Janeway laughed. "I guess you do know me," she said, placing her fingertips lightly on Seven's cheek. She shook her head. "It was a rough day at the court martial," she explained. "Sometimes the perception of truth can make it seem like the real truth is getting lost."

"How is that possible?" Seven asked softly.

"I don't know," Janeway admitted. "It was an eye opening experience, however."

Seven considered that, taking a slow breath. "You told me yesterday that it was not my responsibility how the truth was perceived," she said. "That power belongs to the judges. If that is accurate, then you are not responsible either."

"As captain, I am always responsible," Janeway said softly.

"No," Seven said, gazing at her intently. "Not in this case. The court martial and its proceedings must be independent of you and your command. Otherwise, the process will fail."

Janeway started to respond, hesitated, then finally nodded. "I guess I can't argue with that," she said. She smiled faintly. "Thank you, Annika."

Seven's eyes warmed perceptibly. "I am glad I could help," she said softly.

They regarded each other for a few moments, Janeway completely captivated by the earnest face, and the pale blue eyes. Carefully, she leaned forward, closing the distance between them as she pressed her lips to Seven's. The kiss was a bit more passionate than she had intended, but to the captain's surprise and gratitude, Seven did not pull away, returning the passion with a bit of her own.

"I do still want you," Janeway said huskily after they had parted, by way of explanation, resting her forehead on Seven's. "I'm just able to hide it better some of the time."

"I know," Seven said softly. "You do not have to hide it, Kathryn. I know now that you will not insist on anything I am not ready for."

"I wouldn't," Janeway promised, pleased at the show of trust which hadn't been there recently. She profoundly regretted her previous actions, at how she had kept trying to seduce the young woman into intimacy, displaying irritation and impatience with Seven when she failed. It had taken a while before it became clear how frightened Seven was, and what was causing her fear. "May I kiss you again?" she asked humbly.

Seven smiled. "Please," she said.

Janeway covered the inviting mouth, concentrating totally on the way the full lips felt beneath hers, the silky taste of her partner, how wonderful it was to share this physical connection with her. Seven returned the kisses lovingly, and Janeway was careful not to press the advantage, knowing that now, more than any other time, she had to exercise patience and discipline. She was so close to a breakthrough, sensing it with every molecule of her being, knowing it even more when Seven's lips parted to allow Janeway's tongue to explore her mouth gently, tenderly.

The captain was dizzy when they finally parted for air. Honestly, she wondered, had anyone else ever affected her this way? She could not remember it if there was. She was aware of Seven searching her face, eyes wide, an expression of joy and ... hope? ... in her blond features. Janeway carefully put down her glass, afraid she would spill it because she was trembling so much.

"I think," she said softly. "It would be a good idea to make dinner."

Seven took a deep breath. "Yes," she said, her tone faintly regretful. "It was my turn last night, but you replaced me because I was upset. Would you like me to prepare it tonight?"

"That would be wonderful," Janeway said, feeling absurdly giddy. "Something light, not too spicy?"

"Agreed," Seven said. "I know just the thing." She hesitated, then leaned forward and kissed Janeway again before getting up.

Janeway watched her move across the room, then glanced down at Jake who had been observing all this with puppy interest, a vaguely indulgent expression in his eyes, though she suspected she could be imagining it. She grinned and ruffled his ears, hearing the solid thump of his tail on the cushions. She picked up her drink, finished it, then went over to the counter, perching on the stool as she watched Seven prepare a salad from replicated vegetables and mushrooms.

"Would you like some wine?" Seven asked, spotting the now empty glass.

"No," Janeway said. "I shouldn't have had that drink. My stomach was empty."

Seven frowned at her, and nudged over some mushrooms and a few cucumber slices from her cutting board. Grinning, Janeway crunched on those as she set the table, finishing it just in time for Seven to put the big bowl of salad down, along with some cold chicken and bread sticks. As Janeway sat down, she felt Seven's fingers brush over the back of her neck, and she picked up her fork, tingles running all the way through her. She wondered if she was blushing, and knew she should get this under control or the night would be a very difficult one to bear.

Show some of that Starfleet discipline, Katie, she warned herself sternly. You are a captain, after all.

After dinner and the obligatory play session with Jake, which Seven participated in this time, much to Janeway's pleased surprise and Jake's great gratification, the two women retired to the couch, sitting together as they sipped a white wine vintage which held a hint of raspberries. Janeway leaned against the warm body next to hers and wondered what it would take to bring Seven all the way back to her. Her eyes wandered idly over the room as she tried to remember a love poem she had read at the Academy, one that seemed fitting here.

Poetry? We're not actually taking Tuvok seriously, are we? her little voice asked in an aghast sort of way. Smiling secretly to herself, Janeway picked up the padd sitting on the coffee table in front of her, hoping that somewhere it contained something that could convey what she was feeling. There wasn't, but linking it to the ship's main computer gave her a vaster database in which to search.

She glanced up at Seven who was sipping at her drink quietly, looking over at Jake who was playing by himself now, face distant as the Borg's thoughts took her light years away. She seemed unaware of what the captain was doing, undoubtedly assuming it was work of some sort.

"Hey," Janeway said, nudging her lightly.

Seven's gaze turned to her, the pale eyes focusing immediately. She smiled briefly. "Yes?" she responded.

"What were you thinking about?" Janeway asked.

Seven shook her head minutely. "Many things," she confessed. "B'Elanna, Harry Kim, the trial, how it affects the ship." She paused. "How it has affected us."

Janeway sighed quietly. "It has been difficult," she admitted. "We'll make it, darling. Just have faith."

"I do," Seven responded, and looking into her eyes, Janeway finally had the sense the young woman truly meant it.

The padd beeped softly, and Janeway glanced at it, gratified to see the poem displayed there that she had set the search for, having remembered only one of the lines in it, which fortunately, had been enough to pinpoint the particular verse.

"I'd like to read you something," she said. "If I could."

Seven's expression sharpened with interest. "Of course," she said.

Janeway pulled away a little, straightening and drawing her leg up under her as she half turned toward Seven. She put her wineglass down on the coffee table, and took a deep breath, reading from the padd's screen.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways," she quoted softly, letting the verse flow from her as the love filled her eyes. She used her voice to caress and carry the words to Seven, wanting her to know this was no mere reciting, but words that she meant with every fibre of her being. "I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight for the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose smiles, tears, of all my life!---and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."

Seven regarded her intently when she was finished, her eyebrow raised slightly. Janeway waited for the inevitable question as to why she was reading this irrelevant passage to the Borg, and what the significance was for such illogical statements.

"That was very beautiful," Seven said softly. "Is that how you think of me?"

Startled, Janeway dropped her eyes, blushing. "I do," she admitted. "Sometimes I lack the words to tell you how I feel, Annika. This is the closest I've found which could. I know it was written by someone else, a Terran named Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but these words do speak for my heart."

Seven considered this for a long moment. "I think," she said finally. "That they would speak for mine as well."

Janeway stared at her, feeling something form then, almost tangibly visible, definitely real, drawing them together, binding them with a force which could not be denied. Janeway wasn't sure if she had been the one who moved, or if it had been Seven who had crossed that small space between them, but suddenly they were in each other's arms, kissing deeply and passionately, withholding nothing, wanting only to solidify and make permanent this fragile connection with a physical union. Loving hands moved freely, with a sort of familiarity over the captain, indicating a deep and aching desire, and Janeway knew that finally, the young woman had managed to put the last of her fears and doubts behind her. That once more, Seven believed utterly in Janeway, in their love, and their future, ready to be with her in every way. Tonight, they would be together, and they would make love theirs, and it would be wonderful and beautiful, exactly as it should be, and had been, and always would be.

"Bridge to Janeway."

Janeway wanted to weep. She wanted to scream and stomp her feet. She wanted to ram her head full tilt into the nearest bulkhead, because she could not imagine existing in a universe that would chose this moment to interrupt what was happening.

"Bridge to the captain, please respond."

Janeway touched her communicator.

"What is it?" she snarled, not trying to hide her fury.

"It's Lt. James," Tom Paris said. "She's escaped."

Seven followed Captain Janeway on the bridge, impressed by how furious the smaller woman was. The captain was practically throwing off sparks, and she did not actually walk but rather stalked to her chair like some sort of  predator. A particularly vicious, tail thrashing, teeth gnashing, aggressive and thoroughly dangerous predator.

Seven herself, had been somewhat shaken at the interruption, but only because Lt. James was on the loose. She worried that B'Elanna or that the ship could be in some sort of danger. As for the other, she was much less upset than Kathryn. Once she had made the decision that yes, she did indeed love the captain now as much now as she had before, there was a sensation of utter peace that settled within her, an absolute assurance that it would be all right, that they would be together. It was merely a matter of when.

Seven calmly took a post at the tactical station aft of the command chairs.

"Report," Janeway snapped. She shot a fiery look Tuvok's way, the Vulcan quirking an eyebrow but no more. He was made of much sterner stuff than the rest of the bridge crew who were trying to cringe and work at the same time, though Seven was sure they were unaware of the true inspiration of Janeway's ire.

"Lt. James drugged Mr. Kim and her security guards," he said.

"What?" Janeway said, glaring at him.

"She made a gaseous compound out of the dinner Neelix prepared for her," he told her with a certain reluctance.

"How the hell could she accomplish that?" Janeway yelped, staring at him in disbelief.

Tuvok looked uncomfortable. " She is a science officer, skilled in biometrics," he reminded her. "She was also in the biometrics lab yesterday, and apparently she was able to secrete certain small bits of equipment and biometric compounds about her person while her security detail was ... distracted.

"'Distracted'," Janeway echoed and Seven hoped she'd never hear that particular tone ever directed at her.

"Mr. Kim and I had a ... disagreement," Tuvok admitted. "The guards were more interested in that than their obviously docile prisoner. I intend to reprimand them ... assuming they live."

Janeway blinked. "Is there some question of that?" she said, voice suddenly concerned.

"The drug Lt. James concocted has an extremely toxic aspect to Humanoid physiology," he said. "The Doctor thinks he got to all of them in time, but it does seem to be more damaging to Humans. Both Mr. Kim and Ensign Johnson are in serious condition."

Janeway took a slow breath, and Seven could see her bring her anger and dismay under control, assuming a completely professional command mask, though the Borg could still sense the emotion simmering beneath the captain's suddenly cool exterior.

"What's being done?"

"I have security teams sweeping every deck," he said. "She is not wearing a comm badge so she can't be tracked by that, and the profusion of humans on the ship prohibits a species scan, but there is no place for her to hide for very long. Voyager is a fairly small ship."

Janeway shook her head. "What is she thinking?" she asked in bemusement. "Why would she attempt an escape, especially now? We're in deep space, no planet within transporter range, and no shuttle could outrun Voyager."

Tom Paris glanced over his shoulder. "One could," he noted.

Janeway stared at him, then glanced at Seven.

"The Mississippi," The Borg responded to the unasked question. "We have just completed installing the slip-stream drive for the next sequence of tests."

Tuvok shook his head. "The hanger deck is completely secure as are the transporter rooms," he said. "She could not get to the runabout."

"Where is Chakotay?" Seven asked, suddenly. "Is he assisting in the security sweeps?"

"He's with B'Elanna," Paris said, and to his credit, there was no trace of bitterness in his voice. "They're with the security teams searching the engineering sections."

Seven noted something on her board. "Captain, there is a transporter signal," she said.

Almost as quickly, Tuvok was reporting. "Ship's interior sensors have recorded a beam out from the engineering section to the hanger deck."

"Tuvok," Janeway urged.

"I am on my way," he said, heading for the turbo-lift.

"How did she bypass the security codes?" Tom said, almost to himself.

"I don't know," Janeway said. "But we'd better find out soon."

"Captain Janeway."

Janeway looked up as the unmistakable sound of Angela James's voice came over the communications system. She glanced at Susan Nicoletti who was manning Ops.

"She's accessed the Mississippi's communication array," the dark haired lieutenant said.

"On screen," Janeway said quietly, turning to the fore viewscreen.

A huge image of Angela James appeared, the wild emerald gaze centering on the captain, the woman smiling with unnatural gentleness. "Release the hanger doors," she suggested in a matter-of-fact voice, as if they were discussing the weather.

"I can't do that," Janeway said easily, matching her tone, but Seven could see the way the back of the captain's neck was tense, the shoulders stiff beneath the red band of uniform.

"Do it now, or else," James responded, voice lowering to a whisper.

"Or else what?" Janeway asked carefully.

James reached down, and hauled an unconscious Chakotay up into view. Blood stained his head and face from a gash slashed across his forehead. "He thought I was actually surrendering," she said, and the smile that crossed over her face was not entirely sane. "I had to bring him along since there wasn't enough poison left after I sprayed the Klingon bitch and the others."

Seven blanched and sent a emergency medical call to sickbay, instructing them which section they could find her friend and the downed security team. Then, she looked back at the screen, wondering what would cause the woman to think the way she did before deciding she be much better off never understanding it. They just had to come up with a way to stop her.

"This is all your fault, Janeway," James was saying. "If only you hadn't trapped us here in this miserable space. You're such a pathetic captain. Who else could misplace an entire quadrant?"

Janeway gave no indication she noticed. "Lt. James, I know you don't want to hurt Chakotay," she said.

"Wrong again," James hissed furiously. "Captain, I used his command codes to bypass the transporter lock. I've used it to release the Mississippi's helm to me. Unfortunately, it doesn't want to work on the hanger doors. Terminate the lock down and I'll leave, never bothering you again."

Janeway's face hardened. "I don't believe you," she said. "Chakotay would never have given you those codes no matter how much you threatened him."

"Oh, he didn't give them to me today," James said silkily. "It's amazing what you hear when you're lying in bed with a man whom you just fucked silly. I was there, Janeway, when he had to give his command codes to Hearthstone control while Voyager was getting her overhaul in the Confederacy. I never forget a string of code, Captain so you can imagine how glad I was to see that they weren't changed every six months as Starfleet protocols dictate." She grinned evilly. "I guess you forgot."

Seven could see Janeway's fingers twitch, then clench into fists, but the captain's voice did not change.

"I'm not going to release those doors," Janeway said, her voice solid with icy resolve. Seven knew her eyes would be a dark, thunderous grey. Over the channel in the background, they could hear security pounding on the doors of the runabout, the thin whine of a phaser trying to cut a way through the door mechanism. "Surrender while you still can. I don't want anyone to be hurt here."

"Unlock the doors," James said flatly. "Or I swear to God, I will activate the slipstream drive, right now."

Seven felt her breath catch. She didn't know exactly what would happen in that circumstance, but she had a pretty good idea. She remembered Janeway telling her of a time when she had taken a tour of duty on Utopia Planetia as all cadets did during their Academy days. A ship had been coming in just past Mars at impulse when somehow, one of its shuttles on its hanger deck had gone to warp. They had never found out why, mostly because there had been absolutely nothing left of either vessel, nor the two presently under construction in orbit about the red planet. Janeway's face had been white as she recounted the story to Seven, the captain's very first experience with death on a massive scale.

The quantum slipstream was different than the tradition warp drive, but Seven had no doubt that activating it within another vessel's warp bubble, would be as equally devastating.

"You'll die as well," Janeway said, obviously shaken.

"So I will," James said. "Do you think I care at this moment? Terminate lock down. You have ten seconds."

Janeway hesitated for two of those seconds. Then she touched her comm badge. "Tuvok, get your people clear of the hanger deck," she ordered. She nodded at Tom. "Disengage hanger lock down." She turned back to the screen. "Let us beam out, Chakotay," she pleaded.

James tilted her head, regarding her idly, as if the captain was a not particularly interesting sort of insect. "If I can't have him," she said. "I don't believe anyone else should, either."

The communication was cut and Tom's hands moved over his board. "Captain, hanger doors are opening," he reported. "The Mississippi is disembarking."

"Get a lock on them," Janeway snapped to Nicoletti.

"The runabout's shields are up," she reported, rather helplessly.

"The Mississippi is activating slipstream drive," Tom said, fear tinging his voice. "She's not allowing the proper clearance between the ships. I'm pulling us back."

Seven immediately moved over to ops as Nicoletti gave way to her, the lieutenant heading over to take the tactical station Tuvok had left. Seven tightened and strengthened the transporter beam, using every Borg technique she knew. "I can penetrate the shields," she said. "However, I can only transport one at a time."

She did not look at the captain, hands poised, waiting for the order. If she went for James, the runabout would have no one at the controls as it triggered the slipstream drive. Chakotay could regain consciousness and return from whereever the vessel ended up, but there was no way of knowing how badly he was hurt. It was also unknown what James had programmed in for navigational commands, or if the commander would be able to figure it out in order to retrace his steps.

Janeway did not hesitate this time. "Get Chakotay out of there," she ordered.

"Understood," Seven said, touching the controls. Skillfully, she nudged the transporter relays to full power, punching through the runabout's shields to capture the signal belonging to the first officer, the human male genetic matrix that identified Chakotay, using a full skeletal lock. Interference from the building slipstream conduit battered at the confinement beam, and with exquisite care, she drew the signal back to Voyager, depositing it in transporter room one's main buffer, where the officer there materialized the pattern on the dais.

"Transporter one reports they have him," she said as the ship was jolted.

"Captain, we're caught in the wake of Mississippi's slipstream," Tom yelled at the same time, hands flying over his console.

Janeway sat down in her chair just in time to avoid being flung across the bridge. Susan Nicoletti was not so lucky, crashing into the bulkhead, while Seven and Paris were barely able to hang onto their stations.

"Try to break us free," Janeway shouted as the ship creaked and groaned alarmingly.

Seven tried desperately to shore up Voyager's integrity field, knowing the equipment was not in place yet to withstand the gravimetric pressures the quantum drive placed on the ship. At the front of the bridge, Tom worked frantically, keying in commands to try to slew away from the wake of the runabout. On the viewscreen, they could all see the tunnel like space which had appeared when the drive was activated, sucking them in and pulling them along.

"I can't get free," Tom yelled. "There's not enough power with warp drive."

Seven glanced at Janeway, saw her swallow hard. "Ready phasers," the captain said with a voice suddenly devoid of inflection. "Target the runabout's shields in the same area you punched the transporter beam through. Fire at will."

Seven did not hesitate, accessing phaser control from the unmanned tactical station, channeling it through the ops console. "Firing," she reported. She glanced up to look at the screen, saw the twin beams of energy intersect at the fleeing runabout, punching through the weakened point of the shields, and causing the vessel to disintegrate with satisfying explosiveness. Then, the concussion wave hit.

Seven was flung completely over her console as the ship abruptly dropped not only out of the slipstream conduit, but out of warp altogether. She landed heavily on her back on the deck, the air exploding out of her lungs, and for several minutes, was occupied only with trying to get some of that air back into them. When she finally managed to roll over, she looked to where Janeway should be, but wasn't, finally discovering her crumpled beneath the helm where she had been thrown. Seven had no idea where Paris was, though she could hear him groaning somewhere forward of the navigation console.

She crawled over to Janeway, examining her with concern as the captain slowly stirred, moaning softly. The captain was cut about the head and face, crimson staining the deck beneath her, but she was conscious, struggling to get up.

"Captain," Seven said, reaching out a hand to help her.

Janeway shrugged it off once she was on her feet, staggering to her chair. "I need a report," she commanded, her voice a husky whip.

Seven took a breath, taking the helm since Paris had now stopped groaning, and was now lying unconscious on the deck. "The runabout has been destroyed," she reported. "We have traveled 147 light years in the last twenty seconds, and are now drifting near a class three nebula. Voyager has sustained heavy structural and systems damage. Sickbay reports a multitude of casualties."

She glanced back at the captain who was working her own board, ignoring the blood streaking her face and flowing onto her uniform.

"What a mess," Janeway said quietly. She looked up briefly, her gaze intersecting with Seven's. There was an instant of shared intimacy, of support offered and received, then Janeway's eyes dropped back to her monitor.

"Let's get it cleaned up," she instructed.

Janeway regarded the pale features of Lt. Kim lying in the biobed, his dark hair tousled, a single lock falling boyishly over his forehead. He, along with B'Elanna and several security guards, were still recovering from the toxic gas they had been dosed with, though the rest of Voyager's crew injured in the violent shaking the ship had received in the slipstream conduit had already been released. They, along with everyone else, had been working around the clock the past two weeks, trying to repair the damage the vessel had sustained.

"Do you have any idea what might have set her off?" the captain asked gently.

Harry shook his head, shadows in his eyes. "Maybe it was my fault," he said. "She asked me flat out if I thought we were winning the trial. I told her no, but if she would take the stand and tell her side, then maybe that would sway the judges to lessen the sentence." He paused, eyes haunted. "I guess she didn't think she would be convincing enough. Maybe I should have lied to her."

"Angela James showed a definite tendency to avoid problems whenever she could," Tuvok noted coolly. The Vulcan refused to show it of course, but Janeway knew he had been considerably shaken by the events of the recent past. "When faced with accepting any consequences for her actions, her immediate response was always to strike out, brutally, quickly, and with cleverness."

Harry dropped his eyes. "I guess I let you down, Captain," he said softly.

"Of course, you didn't," she said compassionately, placing a hand warmly on the young man's shoulder. "You took on a formidable duty, and performed it well. I am very pleased with your effort, even if I didn't necessarily like the outcome."

"In truth, Lt. Kim, you were an excellent defense counsel," Tuvok added, surprising the weakened and battered Harry Kim who looked at him with wide eyes. "If Lt. James had been a little more patient, it is entirely possible that you would have, if not actually absolved her of the crimes, at least mitigated the sentence. I would prefer not to face you again in such a situation."

For a few moments, the young man didn't seem to know what to say. "Thank you, Tuvok," he finally offered, blushing faintly. It was clear that the unexpected praise from the Vulcan profoundly astonished, yet thoroughly pleased him.

The Doctor suddenly appeared next to them. "If you two don't mind," he said sternly. "My patient needs his rest. Is your business is finished?"

"It is," Janeway said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I just wanted to be sure all my crew knew things are getting back to normal."

She offered Harry a final, comforting pat then turned for the door, Tuvok at her side. She paused before exiting as she saw B'Elanna. The Klingon was sitting up, arms crossed, staring sullenly across the room, appearing very isolated.

"B'Elanna," she asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Like hell, Captain," Torres responded crankily. "I'm bored. I want to be released."

"Sorry, Doctor's orders," Janeway said, not unsympathetically. She eyed the woman narrowly. "B'Elanna, I don't want this to happen again."

B'Elanna opened her mouth in outraged objection, then apparently thought better of it and firmed her jaw. "No, ma'am," she said. "I promise not to threaten anyone, anymore."

Janeway personally thought the young woman was more upset that the fugitive had gotten the drop on her, popping up from an access shaft ,and spraying the security team with her toxic gas. Chakotay would have gotten a face full as well, if he hadn't been bringing up the rear, delayed as he checked out a room before coming around the corner a minute later. Angela took care of him with a feigned gesture of surrender before firing the phaser she had palmed from B'Elanna's body. Then using his comm badge, she had used his command codes to transport them to the Mississippi and release its helm controls.

"Make sure you don't," Janeway said to B'Elanna, then put a hand on her shoulder. "I promise not to let you get away with anything ever again," she added in a gentler tone. "Get well soon. I need you to check all the repairs we've done the past two weeks."

"Yes, captain," Torres said, with little enthusiasm.

"When I see Seven, I'll tell her you were asking for her," the captain added.

B'Elanna blushed, but brightened. "I know she's busy," she said, "but, I'd really like to see her."

"I'm sure she'll be down as soon as she can," Janeway told her.

Janeway favored the engineer with a parting smile, then left sickbay. She glanced sideways at Tuvok who was walking silently beside her, aware there was still more damage control to do. "Tuvok," she said gently. "We all make mistakes. If you can forgive me all mine, surely you can forgive yourself one or two."

He raised an eyebrow, but did not answer, letting her know that he wasn't ready to let himself off the hook yet. She stifled a sigh. "There is one area where you were completely accurate," she tried again.

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" Indicating that he wasn't entirely sure what she was referring to.

She favored him with a smile. "Yes, I think Seven has finally managed to fall in love with me again. In fact, I'm positive of it," she said.

He glanced at her, his dark eyes warming perceptibly though he showed nothing beyond that. "That is encouraging news," he allowed. "How fortunate you have a grasp on the proper techniques for 'wooing' a Borg drone."

"Yes, it is," she agreed with a half grin. "It's just too bad I haven't seen her for more than a minute or two, lately."

Like all the crew, Janeway and Seven had been working at a tremendous pace, pulling double and triple shifts, catching sleep and meals on the fly, and never at the same time. Janeway didn't even know where her partner was at this moment, and truth be told, she was honestly too tired to find out. The visit to the crewmembers still in sickbay had been the last task she had set for herself, and she was anxious to get to her quarters where she could collapse in peace. Now that she was no longer required to be the strong, confident captain, she could feel the bone-deep weariness start to claw at her, dragging her down into exhaustion, the last of her personal resources suddenly evaporating like the last drops of gas in an old style combustion engine.

"Captain, perhaps you should take some time to rest," he suggested suddenly, and she realized that she had allowed the command mask to slip a little.

"I think that's a good idea," she agreed. She patted Tuvok briefly on the forearm. "Get some yourself."

She left him at a juncture of the corridors, and headed for her cabin. She was acutely aware of missing something when she entered, and it took a moment to realize what it was. Jake wasn't present. She glanced around, then remembered seeing him briefly a few days ago while passing by an access corridor.  He had been playing with the ship's only child, Naomi Wildman, which undoubtedly had been arranged by Seven; a logical course of action since both young creatures required a certain amount of supervision, as well as feedings at regular intervals. Putting them together where they could both be attended to by a single attendant, most likely Neelix in this case, was the most effective way to deal with the problem. Janeway hoped that retrieving Jake from Naomi would not be hard, especially since he had clearly loved romping with the child who was much better equipped to play with him on a full time basis than either a starship captain or an astrometrics officer.

She paused in the bedroom door, smiling faintly as she saw that the bed was already occupied. Seven of Nine was sprawled across it on her back, her lanky, six foot frame taking up far more space than Janeway thought she should be capable of. The Borg's brown mesh outfit was crumpled on the deck as if the young woman had barely been able to get it off before falling into bed.

Janeway made an abortive effort to pick it up, then instead, shrugged out of her own uniform, dropping it beside the outfit, crawling onto the bed and her partner without bothering to don any nightwear. She was pleased to find that Seven had not bothered either, and she draped herself over the soft, yielding torso with a sense of exhausted relief.

Seven mumbled something, gathering herself and the captain in, wrapping her arms around Janeway. The captain sighed softly.

"Annika?" she murmured.

"Yes, Kathryn?" came the blurred response.

"Are you asleep?"

"Yes, Kathryn."

Janeway closed her eyes, unable to resist the numbing drowsiness stealing over her though she tried briefly.

"Annika?"

"Yes, Kathryn?"

"Do you want to make love?"

"Yes, Kathryn."

Neither of them moved. Janeway's right index finger twitched briefly.

"Was it good for you too?" she mumbled.

"Yes, Kathryn."

The corner of Janeway's mouth quirked as she felt herself sink irrevocably into the wonderful warmth surrounding her, to the peace awaiting her in the soft darkness.

"Kathryn?"

Janeway  hauled herself out of that warm, dark place.

"Yes, Annika?"

"I love you."

Janeway rubbed her cheek against the smooth, silk-soft skin of the chest her head was resting on, happiness flooding every part of her. So she hadn't changed her mind, but then Seven wouldn't, would she?

"You are my heart, Annika," she whispered.

Seven tightened her hold lovingly.

"Good night, Kathryn."

"Good night, my love."

They slept, their universe finally made right once again.

The End